Nancy:Planning on it.
Harry:Me and Virginia will be there.
Polly:Me! Oh, and I’m bringing a new friend.
Rosa:A romantic friend?
Polly:Oh, heavens no.
Polly:I like to keep my romance to my books.
Don:Amen.
Polly:Have you read Allegra Winters’s latest romance yet?
Don:Yes, the day it came out.
Winnie:Same! I love a fake-romance trope.
Don:It’s not my favorite, but I like it better than the secret baby trope.
Polly:That one is the worst.
Rosa:Don’t spoil it! I haven’t read it yet.
Nancy:Hey, not to be rude, but could you take your message to a separate thread so my phone doesn’t keep going off?
Winnie’s heart, which had warmed with each incoming message, turned cold when she got to Nancy’s. They talked about Allegra Winters’s books all the time, but they’d never been asked to start a separate text thread before. Was everyone annoyed at them, all this time?
Winnie:Sorry. Yes, we can do that.
Don:Are we matchmaking tonight?
Walt:We should keep the night about Logan and Julia.
Rosa:But weddings are the perfect time for a little romance!
Polly:Walt has a point.
Polly:But so does Rosa.
Nancy:Any updates Winnie? Are Eliana and Asher making any progress, or do we need to call it and move on to someone else? Harry’s up next.
Harry:Maybe we need to take a break and regroup.
Walt:That’s not a bad idea, Harry.
Panic crawled up her chest. They couldn’t move on yet. They hadn’t given this relationship enough of their time and effort.
She waited for someone to call Harry and Walt out, tell them what a terrible idea it was to take a break. But the line remained quiet.
She set her phone down and wound the hot curler through her hair. Maybe things would never be back to normal. Maybe the entire Secret Seven would disband, and Horace would be off with Smitty, and Winnie would be entirely alone.
Well, if no one was going to help her, she’d do it herself. She didn’t need them anyway. After all this time, she’d learned what worked and what didn’t. She’d convinced Eliana to bring Asher to the wedding, so that was something.
She twisted the curling iron into a chunk of her hair as Horace got dressed behind her. He looked so handsome in his pressed white shirt and gray suit he’d gotten just for this wedding. She’d made him a bowtie too—and Smitty as well, though she’d done that one somewhat reluctantly.
“I have a question,” Horace said pensively. He stood beside her at the mirror to comb his hair. “About a conversation I had with Elly a few days ago.”
