Behind her is a guy with dark hair, square-rimmed glasses, and a warm smile. His slightly-pudgy frame is squeezed into a blue cashmere sweater and chinos. He hugs Alex when she stands, then turns to me. “You must be Harriet!” He leans over and pulls me into a hug, before sliding into the booth. “I’m Geoff. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Cat Porter,” the girl says, hugging me as well. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say, touched by the welcome.
“Geoff is my boss at the bookstore,” Alex explains. “And Cat used to be my roommate. Though it won’t be CatPorterfor long!” She gestures to the ring on Cat’s left hand. “Soon it will be Cat Ellis.”
Cat glances down at the ring with a smile.
“Congratulations,” I say. “What’s your fiance’s name?”
“Myles.” When she looks back up at me, I can tell she’s trying to temper her grin. “He used to be a bartender here.”
“Yeah, and you kept him in the friend zone even after he declared his love for you,” Geoff says with a chuckle.
“Whatever.” Cat pushes to her feet. “I’ll get us drinks.” She heads off to the bar and Geoff turns to Alex.
“How’s the writing going?”
“It’s good,” she says, sipping her wine. “I took today off to go shopping with Harri.”
I twist to face her. “Do you have a lot of work to do?”
“Yeah, I still have about a quarter of my manuscript left to write. My editor is expecting it a couple of weeks after the wedding, so—”
“Your editor?” I interrupt. “I thought you were self-published?”
“I am, but I still work with an editor. And this one cost a small fortune, but it will be worth it. I’m lucky she could fit me in because she’s always booked.”
I frown, concerned. “If you have work to do, I understand. You don’t have to spend time—”
“Harri,” she says, placing a hand on my arm. “You flew all the way over here! I’m enjoying hanging out with you. I will have to work at some stage, but I can fit it all in.” She smiles, then rises from the booth. “I need to go to the ladies’ room. Back in a sec.”
Geoff fixes his attention on me. “She’s so happy to have you here. Ever since you decided to come, she’s been talking about it nonstop.”
Guilt weaves through me. Now that I’m here, spending time with my sister, I can’t believe I wasn’t going to come. “I’m glad I’m here too,” I say. “I’ve missed her. And I’ve never been a maid of honor before.”
Geoff chuckles. “I’m sure she’ll have a lot of wedding tasks for you.”
Actually, there’s an idea. If I help her get some of the wedding stuff sorted so she can focus on work, that might make up for me being such a crappy sister in the first place.
“Great,” I say, and the guilt dissipates slightly.
“Have you met Michael yet?” Geoff asks as Alex returns to the table.
“No,” Alex answers for me. “He’s had loads of meetings because he’s pitching a new book, but we’ll have dinner tomorrow.”
I smile. “Sounds good.”
“Okay, a toast,” Cat says as she settles back into her seat. She raises her glass. “To Harriet, for coming all the way to New York and meeting Alex’s fabulous friends.”
I laugh as we all clink glasses, thinking back to the last time I was out drinking, with Steph’s friends. I didn’t feel nearly as welcome as I do here, and it’s only been five minutes. I replay that night in the pub—and the conversation that started this whole thing—and curiosity gets the better of me. “I have a question,” I say tentatively. They all lean forward with interest, so I continue. “What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever done?”
“Ooh, that’s a fun question!” Alex says. I wait for another raunchy story, but she surprises me. “I think it was moving here after Travis dumped me.”
Admittedly, when Alex first announced she was moving to New York less than twenty-four hours after Travis ended things, I was shocked and pretty sure she’d come back home with her tail between her legs. But she created a life for herself over here; she built a writing career, which she’s always wanted, and she met a lovely man, which, well… ditto. I admire how she went out and made her dreams a reality, regardless of what anyone else thought.
I think of my own dream—of that napkin stuffed into my bag with all my board game cafe ideas—but push the thought away. It’s not the same thing.
