"It feels like mine again," she admitted. She took a sip of her wine, the liquid warming her chest. She looked down at her glass, her heart beginning to beat a little faster.
"Julian?"
"Yeah?" He turned his head, his cheek brushing against her hair.
"There is a major architectural industry gala in three weeks. It's a huge deal for my firm. The partners will be there. All my clients will be there."
She paused, swallowing hard. The last time she had attended a work gala of this scale was the night her life ended. It was the night she came home early because Harrison had faked a migraine, only to find him with Emily on the couch. Going back to a formal event like that, entering a ballroom filled with her colleagues again, was a psychological hurdle.
"I used to go with my ex-husband," Sarah continued, forcing the words out into the cool night air. She sat up slightly,turning to look him in the eye. "I don't want to go alone this year. And I definitely don't want to be looking at the empty seat next to me. I want you there. If you’re willing to put on a tuxedo and listen to three hours of speeches about concrete mixtures."
Julian didn't hesitate. He didn't check his calendar or make a joke to deflect the weight of the invitation..
He reached out, taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it on the small table next to them. Then, he took both of her hands in his.
"Sarah," he said softly, his hazel eyes completely serious. "I would be honored to put on a tuxedo and listen to three hours of concrete speeches with you. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
A wave of relief washed over Sarah, so profound it almost knocked the wind out of her. She let out a shaky laugh, squeezing his hands tightly.
"You say that now," she whispered, a tear of gratitude pricking her eye. "Wait until the keynote speaker starts talking about the thermal mass of brutalist facades."
Julian brought her hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"I'll survive," he promised. "As long as I get to sit next to the most brilliant architect in the room."
Chapter Two
Sarah
The phone was buzzing violently against the marble countertop. Sarah, balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of material samples, almost let it go to voicemail. Then she saw the caller ID.
Lily.
Sarah dropped the fabric swatches and snatched the phone. Lily had been one of her closest friends since college, but for the last three years, she had been living in London, working as an art director for a major publishing house. Between the time zones and Sarah’s marital implosion, their calls had become tragically infrequent.
"Tell me you're in the same time zone," Sarah answered, grinning.
"I am currently sitting in the middle of my living room, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes," Lily's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding exhausted but desperate. "And I need to see you. Today. Tonight. Whenever. Just tell me you have time for me."
It was Friday, the eve of the architecture gala. Her day was supposed to be dedicated to wrapping up a client presentation and dealing with a mild, manageable amount of anxiety. She still hadn't even bought a dress yet, dreading the idea of navigating the high-end boutiques alone.
"I can clear my afternoon," Sarah said, making a split-second decision. "In fact, you’re doing me a favor. Tomorrow night is the architecture gala, and I am completely dress-less. Meet me downtown in an hour?"
"You're a lifesaver. See you in an hour," Lily said, her voice sounding a fraction too tight, a fraction too relieved.
***
An hour later, Sarah was standing outside the glass doors of Lennox, a luxury boutique, when a cab pulled up. Lily stepped out, wearing a ribbed knit midi dress in alabaster white and dark sunglasses.
"Lily!" Sarah called out.
Lily ripped the sunglasses off and practically ran across the pavement. They collided in a bone-crushing hug right there on the sidewalk. Sarah squeezed her tight, burying her face in her friend's shoulder, overwhelmed by the sudden comfort of a familiar presence. When they finally pulled back, Sarah kept her hands on Lily's arms, looking her up and down.
"Look at you," Sarah beamed. "London looks good on you. But you look exhausted."
"Jet lag," Lily deflected with a wave of her hand, looping her arm through Sarah's. "Now, let's go find you a dress that will make your ex-husband choke if he ever sees a picture of it."
They navigated the plush, carpeted aisles of the boutique, and at first, it was just like old times. They fell back into their familiar rhythm, armed with inside jokes about the neon-pink bridesmaid dresses they had been forced to wear at a mutual friend's wedding five years ago.
