Page 42 of All Your Dreams

Jax looks down at the tiny hand still clutching onto him and his expression is filled with pure, unfiltered affection. “Maybe I can live with that.”

Tilly suddenly lets out a dramatic little sigh and Jax freezes like he’s handling an active grenade. Eli bursts out laughing beside me.

“Relax, she’s not going to explode, J,” I tell him.

“You don’t know that,” he argues, eyes still glued to her. “Babies seem unpredictable as hell.”

Eli shakes his head. “Look at you. Five minutes ago you were talking about sperm pets. Now you’re cradling her like a Disney princess who found an injured bird.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jax mumbles automatically, but there’s no heat behind the words.

Then he glances at me briefly. “You okay there, Little Poet Boy?”

The nickname hits harder than usual tonight. Maybe because it drags me back to being seventeen and terrified and sitting between these idiots on the roof of our foster home while they listened to me read terrible poetry out loud like it mattered.

I swallow past the sudden knot in my throat and nod slowly. “Yeah, getting there.”

13

PEYTON

Ipause on the sidewalk, phone in hand, and double-check the address Rose sent me. A biker yells for me to get out of the fucking way. Oh New York, how much I love you. It’s in moments like these I realize I’m no longer in San Diego. The city is loud and crowded, a little rude even. But it’s a part of her charm.

A smile tugs at my lips as I spot the sign for the wine bar hanging above the entrance. I slip inside, leaving the noise of the street behind.

The place Rose picked is exactly what I expected. Bookshelves line one wall, some of the books are real and others decorative. A chalkboard menu with specials written in looping handwriting covers the wall over the bar. I study the options, considering if I want to go with bubbly or something else tonight. I’m not a big drinker and haven’t had much alcohol since college.

My friend sits at the round table near the back in a pale pink sundress and a cardigan, her red curly hair framing her freckled face. “Peyton!” she squeals, shooting up from her chair so fast her cardigan slips off her shoulders. Before I can properly brace myself, she’s pulling me into one of those full-body hugs that feel like all the good in the world wrapped in one.

“I was starting to think Ollie was keeping you all to himself,” Rose jokes as she pulls back, hands still gripping my arms while she looks me over with wide brown eyes. “And you’re even prettier now than last Christmas. Rude.”

“Barely,” I tease, setting my bag down before hugging her again. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Right back at you! Soph should be here any minute.”

As if summoned, Soph appears at our table, all radiant energy and confidence, wearing a bright red lip and black boots with a miniskirt. Her short curly hair is a bit lighter in color than the last time I saw her and she has new ink on her arms.

“There she is,” Soph announces, pulling me into a hug. “The woman of the hour.”

“I don’t think I qualify for that title,” I say with a laugh.

Soph plops into her chair. “Any woman who survives a cross-country move, an annulment and becomes a baby whisperer deserves it.”

Rose hides a smile behind her glass. “Soph.”

“What? I’m supportive, aggressively so.” She glances at me. “I love the new hair, by the way.”

I smooth a hand over my silver blonde strands. Truth be told, the old honey blonde had been his favorite. Nathan used to call it California gold as if I was some kind of rare mineral he’d discovered and polished. I kept my hair that way our entire relationship. Dyeing it last month felt reckless at the time. Petty, even. Like I was trying to prove something. But when I looked in the mirror afterward, I didn’t see the woman who’d tried so hard to be agreeable. I saw someone who chose herself, not someone else’s favorite shade.

A server comes by and we order drinks—more wine for Rose, a cocktail with floral notes for Soph. My fingers hover over the menu, overwhelmed by the choices, before I order the same thing Soph did. Normally, I would've played it safe. Tonight, trying something new feels like the right choice.

We’re a few sips in when Soph leans back and grins. “Okay. Before Haisley gets here, I need context.”

“Context for what?” I ask warily.

“Everything, but mostly your current vibe.”

“My vibe?”