“Yeah,” I murmur. “I know.”
“I just got off the phone with her. This time it was, ‘I’d hate to see you make a big mistake.’”
I grimace. “Shit. That sucks.” Silence stretches between us and she sniffles. It’s hard being a million miles away.
“Sorry. I just needed to talk to someone who understands what a nightmare Mum can be. Do you think you could have a word with her?”
“Absolutely,” I say. It’s the least I can do.
“Thanks.” She sighs again. “I wish you were coming to the wedding. We’ll miss you, but I know you’re busy.”
The guilt that’s been gnawing at me for the past few months carves a hole through my chest. Alex has been so understanding since I gave my bullshit excuses about why I couldn’t come, but after everything Steph and her friends just said, I’m suddenly questioning that knee-jerk reaction. I never for one second considered that I actuallycouldgo all the way to New York; I’d ruled it out as too far and too scary. Unlike Alex, who jumped on the first flight she could after breaking up with a guy. The thought of doing something like that makes me feel nauseous.
We’ve always been different. Alex is three years older than me and we’ve never been especially close. She likes to go out, meet guys, go shopping—do all those “girly” things which I’m mostly indifferent to. The one thing we do have in common is our love of reading, but whereas I love fantasy and sci-fi, she loves romance. While I don’t mind the odd romance novel—and I’ve read hers out of curiosity—I don’t get what all the fuss is about. Not just the novels; the whole lot of it.
That’s another difference between Alex and I: she’s always dated, always been looking to meet “the one.” I’ve seen her lose her head over a guy a hundred times and I’ve never once felt like that with a bloke. I’ve never been in love, never felt completely overcome by needing to have someone, and—as sad as it might be to admit this—the men in real life have never quite measured up to the men in the books I love.
Maybe I’m missing the horny gene, or something. Alex certainly got it. Her romance novel is so steamy I can’t bring myself to tell her I’ve read it.
“Anyway, I’ll let you go,” she says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. What are you reading tonight?”
I blink, focusing back on her words. “What am I reading?”
“Yeah. You’re usually halfway through some epic fantasy novel when I call at this time.”
She prefers to read about adventures, not have them.
Steph’s words run through my mind and my heart sinks. It’s not just Steph and her friends who think I’m dull; even Alex believes I can’t possibly be anywhere other than at home, doing something unremarkable. For the first time, when I think about heading home for the evening, I’m not comforted in the same way I usually am. I find myself wanting to prove them all wrong, wanting to show them that Icando something spontaneous.
“I’ll come to the wedding.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even stop to think.
“What? Are you serious?”
My pulse ticks up a notch. “I… yes.”
“Oh my God!” Alex shrieks so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Harriet! I’m so happy! I can’t believe it!”
I force myself to take a deep breath and stop my clammy hands from trembling. A strange sense of nervous excitement ripples through me, and it takes me a second to realize that I kind ofwantto go; to throw caution to the wind for once and do something crazy.
Ha!I want to yell at everyone in the bar.Look who’s outrageous now!
“When can you come?” Alex asks in a rush. “I’d love it if you could come soon, then we’d have a couple of weeks to go sightseeing and explore the city! I’ll send you some ticket options.”
The wordssightseeingandexploremake my stomach tilt. “Okay, but—”
“Will you be my maid of honor, then?”
In spite of my nerves, I smile, touched that she still wants me to do that after everything. “Of course.”
“Harri, you have no idea how much this means to me.” My heart squeezes at the joy in her voice. “New York is amazing. We’re going to have so much fun.”
I take another deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. “We are,” I say, but I’m not entirely sure if I believe it.
2
What the hell was I thinking?
I roll over, flipping my pillow to the cool side and pressing my cheek to the soft cotton, but it doesn’t help me relax enough to sleep.Whydid I say I’d fly to New York? It was all fine and good when I was standing in that dark parking lot, still feeling the sting of Steph and her friends’ words, but now I’m wound tighter than the bun I wear on top of my head.
