Page 1 of I'll Keep Her Safe

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Poppy

Never have I ever been so disappointed by a salad. The leaves are wilted, the dressing is too oily, andwhyis there so much basil?

These people should be ashamed of themselves.

I push the plate away with a wrinkle of my nose, turning my attention to my laptop. Granted, salads have never been my area of expertise, but evenIcould do better than that.

Bringing up the draft of our new website, I tune out the hum of the cafe to focus. Even without the atrocious food, this isn’t a great place to work. It’s busy, which isn’t surprising given it’s 2 p.m. on a weekday, but at least I have a view over Broadway from my table in the window. And if I crane my neck, I can catch a glimpse of Columbus Circle. Manhattan always inspires me. It also helps that I’m surrounded by at least five other people working on their laptops as they sip their coffee. That’s New York for you.

I catch sight of my best friend Bailey through the glass and give her a wave. Today, we’re finalizing a few last minute details for our digital marketing business before it launches next week. My stomach gives a nervous ripple at the thought.

Though that could just be the salad.

“Hi,” I say, as Bailey slides into a chair next to me.

“Hey.” Her amber eyes scan the street through the window as she rakes a hand through her short, platinum-blond-dyed hair. “It’s so hot out. I need an iced coffee, like, now.” With a flick of her wrist, and not a single ounce of self-consciousness, she summons a waitress.

I snort a laugh, changing the font on the front page of our website. That’s Bailey—even at three years younger than me, she knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to make it happen. That’s how she scored her boyfriend of two years, Dean. She spotted him walking down Fifth Avenue in a crisp suit and told me, “I want him,” then walked right up and introduced herself. They went on a date that night. He could have been an asshole, or some kind of creep for all she knew, but somehow, Bailey found the one guy in Manhattan who is as down to earth as her. She moved into his apartment a month later, and they haven’t looked back.

The waitress scurries off, and Bailey rests her hands on the table, watching as I change the font back with a frown. I’ve been tweaking this website for nearly a month now, and it’s still not right.

Bailey motions to my plate of soggy leaves. “What’s wrong this time?”

I exhale, fiddling with the color of our logo. “Too much dressing, there’s no crunch, the kale isn’t fresh… I could go on.”

My friend snorts into her hand. It’s not the first time I’ve complained about the food in a cafe, and definitely won’t be the last.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t do this at home?” she asks, watching me lighten the shade of teal in our logo.

“We decided that we need a separation between home and work, remember? It’s the only way this will feel like a real job and not a hobby.”

“Right,” she murmurs. She’s quiet while I change our logo back to its original color, then says, “Poppy… we need to talk.”

“I know.” I grimace, nudging the picture of Bailey and I that sits at the center of our homepage a little to the right. “It’s not ready, and I said I’d have it done. But—”

“It’s not that.”

I move the image back, frustrated, and close the lid of my laptop with a sigh. She’s been unbelievably patient with me, and not only with the website.

The truth is, I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for Bailey. She’s been my rock over the past few years; the reason I graduated from business school last month, the reason we have the business we’re launching, and the great apartment we share. Well, the apartmentIshare with her and Dean.

But more than all of those things combined, she’s the reason I finally ended things with Kurt. She and Dean took me in, letting me move into their spare room. It was Dean’s workout space, but he graciously moved all his equipment into the living room without so much as a complaint. And since Dean earns three times more than Bailey and I combined, he’s been nice enough to cover the lion’s share of the rent. Without those two, I would probably still be in that tiny apartment in Queens with Kurt. And if not there… Well, suffice it to say, I wouldn’t be in a good place.

I shake off the thought of my ex and focus back on my friend. There’s a line of worry along her forehead, and my gut pinches.

“What’s going on?”

The waitress deposits Bailey’s iced coffee on the table in front of her, but Bailey doesn’t move. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

Unease prickles along my skin. Despite the July heat, I shiver. “About what?”

“Ugh.” She drops her head to where her hands rest on the table. “I got offered a job.”

“That’s it?” A relieved laugh escapes me. “Why would I be mad? We always knew we’d need jobs while we grew the business.”

“Yes, but…” She finally lifts her head to meet my gaze. “It’s in San Francisco.”

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