“His email?”
“No.”
“Socials?”
I winced. “No.”
Elena stared at me as if I’d just told her I’d lost a winning lottery ticket.
“Eva,” she said carefully, “how exactly do you plan on becoming a billionaire’s wife if you can’t even text him?”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling like it might offer divine intervention.
I was still mentally kicking myself when Elena’s voice dropped into that dangerous, syrupy calm she used right before violence.
“So,” she said slowly, “explain to me why you didn't get his number.”
I stared very hard at the condensation sliding down my glass, hoping for a distraction—maybe even wishing it could swallow me whole. “I don't know. I didn't think about it.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. I felt it without looking. Years of sisterhood trained me well.
“You didn't think about it,” she repeated flatly.
“I was having a great time,” I tried. “My brain short-circuited. It happens.”
Her hand shot out and pinched my arm.
“Ow—Ellie!” I yelped, jerking away and finally looking at her.
“That,” she said sweetly, “was for fumbling the bag.”
“I didn’t fumble anything!”
“You talked to a beautiful man,” she hissed, leaning closer, “who was clearly interested, clearly single, yet still you walked away without his number.”
My cheeks burned. “I thought I’d see him again.”
“And how,” she demanded, “exactly were you planning to contact him? Smoke signals? Telepathy? Carrier pigeon?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
She leaned back in her chair, exasperated. “Unbelievable. You finally meet someone who makes you smile like that, then you let him disappear into the wild of the dating world.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself when a voice—deep, calm, and entirely too familiar—cut cleanly through our bickering.
“I can assure you,” he said, “that won’t be an issue anymore.”
Both of us froze.
Slowly, almost afraid to confirm what my heart was already screaming, I turned.
He really was here.
Close enough that I could see the faint crease between his brows, the quiet confidence in the way he held himself. His coat was unbuttoned, his presence calm and grounding in a way that made the rest of the room feel suddenly too loud, too crowded.
Elena’s head whipped toward me. “This is the guy, right?”
I nodded, mortified. “Yes.”
