Page 127 of Friends with Benefits

“You love Evelyn.”

Theo’s too worn down to deny it. “She’s my best friend.”

“Lor was mine. And I’d choose her again and again, even if our story ended the same way.” Jacob pushes a hand through his curls, so similar to Theo’s own tendency to mess with his hair in frustration. “Because a love like that? It’s a goddamnprivilege. You don’t run from it.”

“Run?” His voice is strained. “Evelyn told me to go. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“You stay.”

“Dad.”

“You fight for your wife.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Why is he here? Theo stands and reaches for his jacket. This news could’ve been a call, a text, anemail, so why the fuck did he subject himself to this misogynistic bullshit in person? He can’t be here another moment. Can’t face the whisper of truth in his father’s words. It’s too much to be not just called out, but clocked by the person who has never understood him.

It isn’t until he’s at the door that Jacob speaks again. “You’re wasting so much time.”

“Really?” Laughter bubbles in his throat because if hedoesn’t laugh, he will scream. “What kind of parent tells their kid that their dream job is a waste of time?”

“Mine.”

One word, the rarestglimpseof vulnerability from Jacob Cohen, sucks all the air out of the room. Cuts off his laughter. “Dad—”

“I never said don’t follow your dreams…”

He hears the ellipsis in his father’s voice. “But?”

“But, Theo. Is she not a part of that dream?”

27

“Gen?”

Evie is in the passenger seat of Imogen’s Ford Maverick, a recent acquisition on her path to becoming a full-fledged (eco-friendly!) mountain lesbian. She was cueing an episode ofSarabeth & Jackfrom the comfort of her couch when Imogen broke into her apartment midafternoon, insisting she pack an overnight bag and request to take a personal day tomorrow. And what was the first thought that entered Evie’s brain?It’sSurvivorWednesday. Pathetic. She reached for the backpack on the top shelf of her closet the moment her phone buzzed with Sadie’s permission.Ok.Now they’ve been driving north on the 101 for over an hour. Imogen blasts a pop girlie playlist. Chappell Roan. Sabrina Carpenter. Fletcher. Bops her head and sings along off-key as she drives up the Southern California coastline until Evie cuts the music and demands an answer.

“Imogen. Where are we going?”

Her sister’s fingers drum on the wheel, eyes fixed forward on the road. “To the most magical place on Earth.”

But.

They’re drivingawayfrom Disneyland.

Oh.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Imogen.”

“Trust the process.”

Evie groans, then presses her cheek against the window. She should’ve asked follow-up questions. She didn’t. So, aside from flinging herself out of the truck à laLady Bird, there’s nothing she can do but accept her fate. An hour later, after leaving the coastline and weaving through the Santa Ynez Mountains, they arrive in a small mountain village that’s straight out of a Hans Christian Andersen book. Solvang. It’s impossible not to be charmed by the authentic Danish architecture, the windmills, the people who just…livehere? Naomi used to bring them, her two princesses, to this fairy-tale town for a fairy-tale day. Imogen loved it so much, she begged Pep and Mo to take them back every summer. She still makes this annual pilgrimage. It’s a step away from real life, a lo-fi excursion, a certified angst antidote.

Evie should’veLady Bird–ed herself.

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