“You can see me anytime,” I say, and when he flinches, I want to pull the words back. They imply that though I’ll be around, his mom might not be. While that might be true, I don’t want to be the one to remind Jake of it.
I step forward and wrap my arms around him, nestling my head into his chest and hugging him tightly.
“Whoa, what’s this for?” he says.
I’m not the most physically affectionate of friends, but we all need a hug sometimes. “It’ll be okay, Jake.”
He strokes my hair and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I know,” he whispers.
He’s so warm and solid. This week has been an emotional rollercoaster—first with my ex sending me an invitation for his new wife’s baby shower and then a nasty week at work, all topped off with my thirtieth birthday, a date I wouldn’t mind if it weren’t a reminder of my ticking biological clock.
I close my eyes for a moment and realize that in my attempts to offer comfort to Jake, I’ve been comforted by him. That’s probably the perfect metaphor for our relationship. He’s always giving. I’m always taking. I hate that.
I release him, and when I step back, he searches my face. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“My problems aren’t problems in the scheme of things.”
He shakes his head. “Everyone’s problems are problems. They might not be the same as mine, but they still matter. Seriously, are you okay?”
I shrug. “Considering our morning started with a conversation about your sperm and my childless womb, I’ve been better.”
He grimaces. “Well, for what it’s worth, at least you can still surprise me.”
I don’t want to think about that too much. What seemed like a good idea after too many drinks is so obviously ridiculous and reckless now that I’m sober. Thank the sweet Lord he didn’t hand over the goods last night.
“Do you want your birthday present now?”
I frown at him. “You already gave me my present. Remember when I was stranded on 96 and you paid to have my car towed?”
“That’s a shitty gift,” he says, reaching into his back pocket.
I fold my arms. “Jake, we agreed.”
“This one’s for me too, okay? So it hardly counts.” He hands me an envelope.
I take it reluctantly—because I may be on the winning side of this friendship, but at least I have the courtesy to feel guilty about it—and open it. The card has a man in a speedo on the front dancing with a margarita. I unfold the paper tucked in the card and gasp. “Jacob Jackson, you did not!”
He grins at me and arches a brow. “I can give them to someone else if you really don’t want them.”
I clutch the tickets to my chest. “Don’t you dare! It’s Hamilton! I wanted to go so badly!” I really didn’t need to spend the money to go to the musical in Chicago, but I’ve been dying to see it, so I’ve practically had to sit on my hands to resist the splurge. I screech and do a little dance before throwing my arms around him in our second hug of the morning. “You are the best friend ever.”
“I know,” he says as I release him. “But those tickets aren’t free. You have to take me as your plus one.”
“Ellie won’t like it, but she knows she has to share me.”
He chuckles. “I hope the date works. I peeked at the calendar on your phone to make sure you didn’t have anything scheduled.”
“I’d cancel anything else for this anyway.” I scan the print-off for the date and my breath leaves me in a rush when I see the venue. “Jake, these are for the Hamilton on Broadway.”
“Is that a problem?”
“In New York City.” I tear my eyes off the tickets to look at him.
“That’s where Broadway is, last I checked.”
I blink, mentally calculating how much I’ll need for the plane ticket and hotel. Maybe I could save some money if I drive, and I don’t need to stay anywhere fancy. I nod. “I’ll make it work,” I whisper, because come on. This is bucket-list stuff. “I work two jobs. I deserve this, right?”
“You absolutely do,” Jake says. “But if you’re worried about money, don’t. Everything’s covered.”