Wram 335

Chapter 335 

Madison 

+25 BONUS 

“I used to paint,” I said finally. “Watercolors, mostly. Landscapes. I haven’t done it in years. No time.” 

“There’s always time for what matters,” Mia said simply. 

Her words hit me harder than intended. What did matter to me? Beyond work, beyond my arrangement with Alexander, beyond my responsibilities? 

“Food’s here!” Devon called, saving me from further introspection. 

We feasted on fish tacos and fresh lemonade, arguing good–naturedly about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (it absolutely doesn’t) and if cereal was technically a soup (Nathaniel made a surprisingly compelling case that it was). 

After eating, we decided to walk along the shore. The sand was warm between my toes, and the water occasionally lapped at my ankles. I let the others walk ahead, hanging back to absorb the moment. 

The sun had begun its descent, casting golden light across the water. Families were packing up, couples strolled hand in hand, and seagulls swooped overhead. The simple magic of a Sunday at the beach. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Hazel said, dropping back to walk beside me. 

“Just thinking how nice this is,” I replied. “Thanks for dragging me out here.” 

“Anytime,” she bumped her shoulder against mine. “You know what else would be nice? If you actually told me what’s going on with you and Alexander.” 

I nearly stumbled. “Nothing’s going on. We’re fine.” 

“Uh–huh,” she said skeptically. “That’s why you nearly choked when I showed you those photos.” 

“Can we not talk about work? Or Alexander? Just for today?” 

Hazel studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied dryly. 

We rejoined the group, and I threw myself into the conversation, determined to stay present. When Devon suggested a sunset swim, I was the first to race into the waves, laughing as the cold water splashed around me. 

“She’s alive!” Hazel called, diving in after me. 

The ocean was perfect, cool against my sun–warmed skin and buoyant enough to float effortlessly. I let the waves carry me, staring up at the darkening sky. 

“This is living,” Mia said, floating nearby. 

“It really is,” I agreed. 

When we finally emerged, wrapping ourselves in towels against the evening breeze, I felt renewed. My skin 

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tingled from sun and salt, my hair was a hopeless mess of tangles, and I couldn’t remember feeling so content 

in months. 

“Beach barbecue at my place next weekend,” Ariana announced as we packed up. “Madison, you’re officially invited, and I won’t take no for an answer.” 

“I’ll check my calendar,” I started automatically. 

“Wrong answer,” Hazel interrupted. “She means yes, she’d love to come.” 

I laughed. “Yes, I’d love to come.” 

“Progress!” Nathaniel cheered. “The workaholic agrees to further socialization.” 

“Don’t push it,” I warned, but I was smiling. 

The drive back to the city was quieter. Everyone was tired in the best possible way. Mia played softer music, and Hazel dozed against the window. I watched the landscape change, city lights gradually replacing coastal views. 

“Thanks for today,” I said to Mia as we approached Hazel’s building. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.” 

“We all need a reset sometimes,” she replied, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “You should join us more often.” 

“I’d like that,” I said, surprised to find I meant it. 

We said our goodbyes in front of Hazel’s building, exchanging phone numbers and promises to meet again. As the others drove off, Hazel linked her arm through mine. 

“Nightcap at my place?” she suggested. “We can order pizza and you can tell me what’s really going on with you. 

11 

I hesitated. “I should probably get home. Check on my mom.” 

“Call her,” Hazel countered. “I haven’t had proper Madison time in forever.” 

I pulled out my phone to text Mom, who responded immediately with a thumbs–up emoji. 

“Okay,” I conceded. “But no interrogation about Alexander.” 

Hazel tapped her chin dramatically, pretending to consider my condition. “I’ll think about it.” 

“I’m serious, Hazel. One question about him and I’m out the door.” I crossed my arms, trying to look stern despite my beach–rumpled appearance. 

“Alright, alright!” She raised her hands in surrender. “No questions about your mysteriously sexy boss who may or may not be seeing his ex again.” When I glared at her, she quickly added, “That wasn’t a question! Just a statement of facts.” 

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.” 

“But lovable,” she grinned. “How about we grab some pizza instead of ordering in? I need to walk off all those 

fish tacos.” 

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“Can’t we just order delivery like normal people? My hair is full of sand, and I probably smell like seaweed.” 

“There’s this new place two blocks over that everyone’s raving about. Wood–fired oven, imported Italian ingredients…” She wiggled her eyebrows enticingly. “Plus, the fresh air will do you good. Clear your head of all those non–Alexander–related thoughts you’re definitely not having.” 

I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “Fine. But I’m not changing out of these clothes.” 

“Like anyone cares. This is New York.” She looped her arm through mine. “Besides, you look hot in that cover- up. Maybe we’ll find you a nice pizza guy to rebound with.” 

“I’m not rebounding because I’m not breaking up with anyone,” I insisted as we headed down the sidewalk.” And I’m not looking for a pizza guy or any guy.” 

“Pizza girl then? I don’t judge.” 

I laughed despite myself. “You’re the worst.” 

The early evening air was pleasant, the city shifting into its nighttime rhythm. Street lights flickered on, restaurants filled with dinner crowds, and couples strolled hand–in–hand. A normal Sunday evening. When was the last time I’d experienced one of those? 

“So,” Hazel began innocently, “how’s your mom doing?” 

“Much better,” I replied, grateful for the safe topic. 

“That’s fantastic!” 

We finally arrived at the vibrant pizza place known as “Napoli’s.” The smell of garlic and baking bread wafted out the open door, making my stomach growl despite the tacos we’d eaten earlier. 

“Told you it would be worth the walk,” Hazel said smugly. 

Inside, the restaurant was packed, with just a small counter for ordering takeout. The walls were covered with vintage Italian posters, and a massive wood–fired oven dominated the back wall. 

“What looks good?” I asked, scanning the chalkboard menu. 

“You pick. I trust your judgment.” 

I approached the counter where a bearded man greeted us. “What can I get you ladies?” 

“One large Margherita and one large…” I glanced at the specialty options. “What’s the ‘Inferno‘?” 

“Spicy soppressata, calabrian chilies, hot honey. Not for the faint of heart.” He mimed wiping sweat from his 

brow. 

“Perfect. We’ll take that too.” 

“To stay or to go?” 

I looked at Hazel, who shrugged. “To go.” 

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He nodded, scribbling our order. “Twenty minutes.” 

Hazel checked her watch. “Plenty of time for a quick drink at the bar while we wait?” 

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The bar area had exactly two empty stools. We claimed them, and Hazel immediately ordered a bottle of 

prosecco. 

“We’re celebrating,” she told the bartender. 

“We are?” I asked once he’d moved away. 

“Yes. We’re celebrating Madison Harper remembering how to have fun.” She clinked her glass against mine when the bartender returned with our drinks. “To beach days and not working on Sundays.”