“I’ve gotta take this.” I kiss Cami’s cheek and excuse myself. “Hello.”

“Hey, Palazzo,” my old Navy buddy Ringo says. “Sorry, I know it’s Sunday, but my day is jammed tomorrow, so I thought I’d get a head start.”

“No worries. What’s up?”

“I spoke with Lucas last week, and he mentioned that you might be interested in a flight instructor position.”

I take a deep breath and shove my hand through my hair. “I can’t fly.” My voice is flat, and the rage and sense of loss boils up the way it always does when I think about the fact that I’ll never pilot another plane.

“Not in the air,” he clarifies. “I’d like you to teach in the classroom, and oversee the program up there for me. You’d be the boss, which you’re good at.”

I frown. “You want me to stand in a classroom and bore the fuck out of people? If anything, I should be in the air.”

“But you can’t be,” Ringo says softly. “You got a shitty deal, man. I’m just thankful that you’re okay. And I could seriously use you. I’m expanding the private flight school from San Diego up to Portland. You wouldn’t have to travel at all.”

“That’s awesome, Ringo, but classroom work?”

“Sleep on it. Think it over and call me back this week. I’m not in a huge hurry for an answer, but the only answer I’ll accept is yes. You’d be excellent at keeping everything in order, and you’re a good speaker. You’re not going to bore the shit out of anyone.” I hear him sigh. “How are you, man?”

“Better,” I admit. “Physically, pretty much all healed up. I’ve been working for my dad and keeping busy. I have a girlfriend.”

“So you’re settling down.”

I stare blindly as a kid picks his nose in his stroller, his mom hurrying down the sidewalk. Am I settling down?

I guess I am.

“I suppose you could put it like that.”

“Perfect. Call me this week.”

And with that, he’s gone. The thought of working in a classroom doesn’t get my blood flowing, but I like that I wouldn’t be a peon. I’d be running the show, and God knows I have plenty of experience running shows.

Come to think of it, teaching people who are excited about flying doesn’t sound like a bad gig.

I’ll think about it later, but the truth is, I just can’t see myself working in construction forever. I like it fine, but it doesn’t excite me.

Everything about flying excites me.

I make my way back through the restaurant and am almost to the table when I hear Kat say, “This period is killing me. Like, instead of it raining men, it’s raining red.”

“That’s so gross,” Cami says, but she’s laughing as she takes a bite of her bacon. She glances up and sees me. “Hey, babe. Your food’s here.”

“Good. I’m hungry.”

“I’m telling you,” Kat continues without missing a beat. “I’m gonna have to invest in an industrial-sized box of tampons or something.”

“Oh my God! Do you remember when we went to that party our senior year with Cami?” Mia says, pointing to Addie.

“Aw, poor Cami,” Addie says, hiding a giggle behind her hand. “She wore white pants.”

“And didn’t expect Mother Nature to show up that night,” Cami adds, shaking her head. “It was so mortifying.”

“You recovered,” Riley says. “You’re wearing white pants today.”

“Do you know how long it took me to wear white pants again?” Cami demands. “I didn’t wear them until just a couple of years ago, and now with this reminder, I’m rethinking it all over again.”

“I hear you,” Kat says, nodding. “It’s like Subway.”

“Subway?” Mia asks with a frown.

“Yep, I ate at Subway and got food poisoning when I was like twelve, and I’ve been afraid to eat there ever since. Whenever I drive past there, my butt clenches.”

The girls all erupt in laughter, and I can’t help but join them.

“I’m so glad that my gastrointestinal issues make you laugh,” Kat says, her shoulders straight. She eats her eggs. “It was horrific.”

“I can imagine,” Mia replies, and frowns at her eggs. “Like these eggs. I ordered them over medium, and the yolks are runny. If these are over medium, I’m Selena Gomez.”

“You always order the most difficult thing in the world to cook,” Riley accuses her. “And I think you do it on purpose.”

“Of course I do,” Mia replies with a sniff. “What if that twit applies for a job with me? I need to know if they can actually cook. And if you know what you’re doing, it’s not the hardest thing in the world to cook. You just have to pay attention and not fuck it up.”

“Are you going to send them back?” Cami asks.

“No. I actually like the yolks runny.” Mia grins and takes a bite of one of them. “But now I know that the idiot in the kitchen doesn’t know how to cook eggs.”

“We don’t even have eggs on our menu,” Cami reminds her.

“That doesn’t matter,” Mia says. “If they can’t cook eggs the way I ask, how can they be expected to cook a steak the correct way?”

“Whatever you say,” Riley says, and rolls her eyes at me. “Has she always been this difficult?”

“She’s always been demanding. Mia knows what she wants, and she gets it. It’s as simple as that.”