Page 44 of Best Friends for Never

She clears her throat. “Thank you, thank you. As I’m sure youallknow by now since I’ve talked about it nonstop since I was eighteen”—the crowd laughs lightly—“I love this theater. It was my home away from home as a kid and throughout my teen years. It welcomed me when I felt lost, when I was sad, when I was happy, and when I didn’t want to go home and listen to my mother sing Stevie Nicks off key.”

Everyone laughs again.

“Ten years ago, I was devastated when they shuttered the doors. This building meant more to me than anyone else I knew.” She glances back at me, catching my eyes and offering a small smile, one I don’t deserve. “Well, just about anyone.” She turns back to the crowd. “I’ve been lost without it, and I strongly believe this town has been lost without it, too, which is why I’ve annoyed you all for so long about resurrecting this old building. And now, thanks to an incredible donor who wishes to remain anonymous, we’re finally breaking ground and are on our way to making theater a staple in this town once more. To commemorate such an incredible day, I’m pleased to welcome the namesake of our new theater, Noel Carter.”

The applause this time is a little more enthusiastic, but still nothing compared with how they greeted Parker, and I’m not entirely surprised.

Parker turns toward me, and I try to catch her eyes as I make my way to the microphone, but they’re completely blank as she claps with no real excitement behind it.

She’s upset because I fucked up. Big-time.

Why? Why would I say that to her, today of all days? I’m such an asshole.

But I don’t have the time to make up for it now.

I step up to the podium as the applause dies down.

“Thanks, everyone.” I clear my throat, adjusting the microphone to my height. “Much like Parker, I spent my youth in this theater, and I can easily say that I wouldn’t be where I am today without it. It changed everything for me, and I want nothing more than for another kid in Emerald Grove to have the same opportunity I did. Thatwedid. I want them to have the chance to cry on that stage, to hear the roar of a crowd, and to find their passion, even if it isn’t acting.” I turn to Parker. “Maybe it’s painting or set design, which leads to bigger and better things, giving them the skills to create stunning, totally showstopping projects.” The barest hint of a smile tugs at her lips. “Or maybe it’s directing,” I say to the crowd now. “Whatever it is, I want them to find that same happiness I found here. I’m touched and completely honored to havethe theater named after me. Thank you for giving me a place to find myself and a home to return to whenever I need to remind myself of who I am.”

The gathered audience erupts into applause, my grandmother leading the pack as she shoots out of her chair and whistles loudly, just like she used to when I was a kid. It’s equally embarrassing and endearing, even now.

I look to my left at Parker, who I assume has been standing by just in case I screw up, but even she seems impressed.

Not bad,she mouths.

I shrug, sending her a wink as the crowd’s enthusiasm dies.

“All right,” she says stepping back up to the microphone. “Let’s get this theater started!”

Since he’s heading the construction part, Axel and the mayor lead us off the side of the stage to a roped-off spot.

We stand in front of more cameras than I ever anticipated for an event like this, and right in the middle is Leonard. There is no camera in his hand, just a tape recorder, and he has a pinched expression on his face.

Someone hands me a shovel, and we gather for a few photos before Parker motions for me to proceed.

She wants me to do this? Fuck that. This ishermoment. She’s the one who has worked so hard for this. I’m just here for this ceremony, then I’m leaving town.

I shake my head, stepping up to Parker. “No. You.”

Her eyes widen. “Me?”

“Yes. This is your project. It should be you doing this, not me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Noel. This—”

“Don’t make me say it again.” I lean closer. “This is your moment, not mine. Go shine, Peter.”

She looks like she wants to argue, and I just know I’m about two seconds from hearing some excuse as to why she shouldn’t be the one doing this.

“Par—”

“You know what? I will go shine,” she says, surprising the hell out of me by taking the shovel and brushing past me like I’m nothing.

I swear, I’ve never been prouder.

She steps up to the center, and then with the broadest grin I’ve ever seen from her, slams the shovel into the ground. The crowd explodes into cheers. But I’m not watching them. I’m watching her.

Parker’s shoulders relax for what seems like the first time in forever, and she blows out a long breath as she stands there, staring down at what she’s accomplished. Sure, there’s a lot of work ahead of her. But at this moment? At this moment, she just gets tobe.

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