Ellenor lifts her glass. “Well. Here’s to poor life choices.”
We raise our glasses.
“To Whitstable,” I offer. “And oysters.”
“Yuck,” Ellenor says.
“To good company,” Brandon adds.
“And Quidditch.”
“And Quidditch,” we all laugh, taking a drink.
“And here’s to turning thirty,” Ellenor adds, taking another swig.
I frown. “Your birthday’s not until April.”
“Thank God for that.” She drains her glass a little too fast.
Brandon and I exchange a glance. I think he noticed it too—the hint of bitterness beneath her bravado.
After dinner, we’ve barely risen from our seats when I pull Ellenor into a tight hug.
“Whoa,” she murmurs, giving me the Slytherin-style cold pat on my back.
I don’t let go, and she soon relents, melting against me with a proper hug.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. You?”
I hear her swallow before she replies. “Yeah.”
As she pulls back, I catch the flicker in her eyes—a shadow that tells mewe’re remembering the same thing.
“Elle…” I begin.
“Right,” she says briskly, clapping her hands once, all business. “I promised Mum I’d film you.” She points at Sean. “You. You’re tall. Come with us to Lily’s gig. You can hold the camera.”
I don’t bother hiding my smile. Ellenor is several inches shorter than I am—almost comically short beside Sean’s bulk.
Sean shrugs. “I can come. These fuckers are overstaffed anyway.”
“I don’t know what kind of crowd you’re expecting,” I tell Ellenor, “but I’ve booked a table near the stage, so camera angles shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Oh. Well, then.” Ellenor turns to Sean, who’s pulling on a jacket. “Offer rescinded.”
“Hold on there, love,” he says. “You can’t rescind the offer. The offer’s been made.” He steps outside and holds the door open for her, and a startled Ellenor gapes before following.
Brandon and I share a grin and trail after them.
Outside, the air is bright and cool. Brandon offers to carry my guitar, but I insist on carrying it myself—not out of stubbornness, but because I’m attuned to it now. I loop my arm through Ellenor’s, and the four of us walk towards the lights of the town centre—and the stage waiting for me.
It’s funny how I almost forget to be nervous.
I wait for panic to come flooding in, but strangely, it doesn’t—not during the walk to the café, and not even once as I’ve climbed the stage and the bright lights hit me.
Okay, I’m alittlepanicky. Especially when Willoughby vastly embellishes as he introduces me as ‘one of Australia’s top talents’. But then I lock eyes with Brandon and smile.
