Page 62 of The Holy Grail
PAIGE: You and Malcom are cordially invited to dinner this Sunday night.
PAIGE: It’s non-negotiable.
JULES: That’s your birthday.
PAIGE: I know.
JULES: Shouldn’t you and David have special plans for it? I passed the birthday torch to him—against my better judgement—so he better not be shirking his duties already.
PAIGE: He’s not shirking his duties. Having you and Malcom over for dinner is how I want to spend my birthday.
PAIGE: So … non-negotiable.
Jules re-read the texts, eyebrows rising in amusement; her friend was becoming quite ballsy as of late.
“What’s so funny?” Malcom asked.
Jules glanced over at him, seated next to her at his kitchen island. They had gotten into the habit of talking about anything and everything over a glass of wine while eating whatever dinner he’d prepared. She found it both comforting and appealing—she wasn’t used to having someone other than a best friend care about how her day was or what she was thinking about.
Speaking of friends, she absolutely wasn’t going to think about Evan.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Paige invited us over for dinner on Sunday night, and it’s apparently non-negotiable.”
Malcom glanced up, chewing a bite of beef stroganoff thoughtfully. “Hmm.”
Jules took a drink of her wine, trying to read his expression. “You seem less than thrilled.”
“That’s not it. I just wasn’t expecting to reach this milestone so soon.”
“What milestone?”
“Meeting your friends.”
Every time she learned something new about dating and relationships, she realized how little she knew. “Is it too soon for you?”
“No. Is it too soon foryou?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ve never done this before, so …” she trailed off for a moment. “I assume you’ve done this, though? Meet friends?”
“A few times, yes, and it’s usually kind of a big deal.”
“Are you nervous about it?”
“A little. Their opinions will matter.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” she assured him. “You’ve met Paige already, remember, and you thought she was a sweetheart. Plus, she liked you, and that hasn’t changed.”
“What about David?”
“What about him?”
“What’s he like? I remember you saying that night at Kyoto how you thought he might’ve been fucking around with Paige, and if he had been you’d have done something to make him … sterile.”
She blinked at him while taking a bite of her own stroganoff, which was off the charts amazing.
“I have a pretty good memory,” he said.
“So do I, but apparently not as good as yours, because I don’t remember saying that. Although it does sound like something Iwouldsay, so you’re probably right.”
