19.95.

I blink at the number on my laptop screen for a minute, then blow out a breath of air and hit refresh again.

You have one new order totaling $19.95.

The back end of Penchant’s website doesn’t lie, no matter how many times I click refresh. It’s real. My very first order.

Yes! It’s about fucking time.

I push back my chair in the middle of the guesthouse kitchen and dance, a peppy combination of moves I haven’t busted out since middle school and that probably shouldn’t see the light of day. But, whatever. I’m happy.

Last night I finally pulled the trigger, clicking Accept to make my Amazon listing go live, and then again to launch my lube on Penchant’s website. It felt sort of anticlimactic to watch the screen go from showing nothing to something. This morning, though, one of the bloggers I’d sent a review bottle to finally posted her review and linked to Penchant on Instagram. I wasted no time shouting that shit to the rafters.

Somehow I’ve managed to get three thousand followers on Instagram, which is peanuts, I know. Still, it’s enough that people are asking about the lube, and when I was able to share the blogger’s review, I’d gotten three hundred likes on my post. And now, this.

You have one new order totaling $19.95.

I clutch my phone to my chest and squeal.

Finally.

It seems as if I’ve been working toward this forever, but all I can think is that it’s a good sign for the official launch party at the end of the week. Surely if I can sell lube to a stranger in Minnesota, I can sell lube in person to a room full of people who actually want to learn about it.

Oh, hi, I’m Delilah Overbrook and I’m the owner of a personal lubricant company. Want to know all about sex and lube and pleasure? I can tell you a few things.

My fingers itch to share the news. I type out a message to Jackson before I realize what I’m doing. I still haven’t done more than exchange text messages with him since we set up times where I could come pack bottles. Jackson would want to know about my first sale. Or, ours, I guess. But the idea of reaching out to him feels like a punch to the heart. I turn on some music and send the note to Abigail instead.

Instead of texting back, she calls. “Nice work, babe. By the way, I’m running about ten minutes behind.” I can hear thumping in the background, shrieks of laughter. “Nico, shoes, now.” Another raucous giggle.

“Ten minutes behind for what?” The second I ask I remember today’s date: the Fourth of July.

“Fireworks. We’re driving.”

I’d made this date with Abigail and Nico a few weeks ago, when July seemed a lifetime away. How had everything sneaked up on me? How had we spiraled into summer and ice-cream cones and bare feet? The idea of going out in public makes me almost break out in hives.

“I might need to take a rain check.”

I can practically hear Abby’s eye-roll. “There’s no such thing as a rain check for the Fourth of July. That would be a whole freaking year.” I make a noncommittal sound and Abigail pulls out the big guns. “Do you want to be the one to tell your godson that you’re not coming?”

I grumble because when it comes to Nico, I don’t want to deny him anything. “I just have a ton of work to do.” Gotta keep that momentum going and get more orders.

“And are you actually going to get any done tonight?”

If sitting by my laptop waiting for orders to come through counts, then maybe. I glance around the room and see the piles of things that have slowly unpacked themselves from my boxes. On top of everything, I need to repack and get ready for my move to Boston. But tonight I can’t stomach the idea of doing any bit of it.

“No,” I admit.

“Okay. Then we’ll be there in ten.” Abigail shifts the phone away from her ear and in the seconds before she hangs up I hear her call one last time, “Nico. Shoes!”

Guess I better be ready to go when she arrives. I throw on a red T-shirt and cutoff shorts and hope it’s patriotic enough to pass muster. Then I grab my plaid blanket and my purse and head out to wait for Abby.

I pause just outside my back door. Normally I wouldn’t have a problem waiting on my dad’s porch for Abby to arrive. It’s easier to spot a car on the road and there are chairs to wait in. But I hear voices coming from inside my dad’s house and the idea of facing him now, with everything falling apart, makes my stomach clench. I’m a selfish asshole who lied about how I planned to use his money and I’m on the outs with my supposed business partner. I’m winning all the contests.

I slip another envelope of cash under my dad’s front door, then hover in the shadows by the guesthouse to update Penchant’s social media sites. Happy Fourth of July from Penchant. Hope you get fireworks in and out of bed. Yack.

The crunch of gravel from the road interrupts me and I climb into the front seat of Abby’s car. “Hi.” I dislodge a toy dragon and hand it back to Nico, then pick up a romance novel and start to toss it in the back seat.

“Actually that’s for you,” Abby says.

I slide my seat belt on before I take a look.

“The Wizard’s Magic Wand.” I wrinkle my nose. “Really? Isn’t it too soon?”

“No, babe. When you read about Damien and his magical—” She breaks off, looking at Nico in the rearview mirror. “His magical wand, you’ll feel better about life.”

My face must give something away because Abby looks at me in horror. “If you say anything about Jackson having a magic wand, I’m going to leave you on the side of the road. I don’t care how good it was, it’s Jackson and I don’t want to hear about it.”

I don’t want to talk about it, either. Except that I miss it. And it’s my own damn fault for cutting things off. Or for starting them in the first place. I sigh loud enough that Abby reaches over and grabs my hand.

“A good book is the best way to get over heartbreak.” She squeezes tight before letting me go. “That and a bottle of wine.” Wine. Dammit. The wine I’d had with Jackson had been my first glass since the infamous incident with Matthew. I think this means I need to go off the stuff for good.

“Ugh,” I mutter. “I’m not heartbroken. Jackson and I were just casual.”

“The heart doesn’t believe in arbitrary labels.” She’s right, I know. But what I feel right now is a little pain now compared to a bigger loss later. This is me, bowing out before I bleed. Because with Jackson, one cut can bleed me dry. My sense of self-preservation is the only thing I have to cling to right now.

“Okay, O Wise One.” I look over my shoulder at Nico and wink. “Now take us to the fireworks, woman.” Nico giggles in the back seat. “Let’s see some things explode.”