He flinches. “Tell me how that will go.”
It will go great. It’s free publicity. We’re friends. Friends help each other, right? I am so in knots over her.
SEVEN
LILLY
Kat burststhrough the store’s back door. “Oh my god, my phone won’t stop chiming. It’s blowing up with notifications!”
“You’re back,” I squeal, finishing quickly adding the ingredients to the juicer, and we clash in a big hug. “Show me the ring. Tell me everything.”
“It can wait.”
What can be more important?She must read my confusion because she shows me our Instagram page pinging incessantly with notifications as we get one like and follower after the other and various emails with new inquiries.
What’s happening here?
She clicks on Ian’s Instagram page, and I see a pic of him in his training gear, looking mouthwatering.No, don’t go there. We’re friends.
“His post went viral!”
I cup my mouth in utter disbelief. “Holy shit.”
Gratitude floods me. I am aware of how much these guys make from advertising. Why would he do that for free?
Her eyes shine. “This will be huge for us.”
I nod, incapable of forming words.
“Ian is your freaking angel. I swear,” she says dreamily.
Emotions overwhelm me. I’m at a loss for words.
“I’m in the office for the rest of the day. But tonight, we’re going to celebrate.” She shows me her engagement ring that sparkles with a round center diamond and tiny ones surrounding the platinum band.
Outside the shop, it’s madness. A queue lines the sidewalk for several blocks. We can barely handle all the customers. By the end of the day, I am beat but so freaking ecstatic.
Side by side, we walk into our usual bar and order a round of cocktails.
Kat sips from her straw and waggles her brows at me. “So, how will you thank him?”
I fidget with my fingers in my lap. “We decided to be friends.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Ugh, you’re no fun.”
I place my elbow on the bar, my cheek resting in my palm. “I don’t even have his phone number.”
“You’re neighbors and as you’re not offering yourself as a gift to him, maybe think of something else.”
I exhale deeply, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I just can’t ask for his number.”
“Why? What sort of friends are you if you don’t have each other’s numbers?” She looks at me, gobsmacked.
I quickly change the topic, not wanting to face the improbability of us. “Now, tell me how Theo proposed.”
A dreamy expression softens her face as she recounts how her fiancé went down on one knee and asked her on the same bridge where they made up.
Taking a small sip from the fruity cocktail, I smile, fully riveted as I listen to her story, enjoying spending time with my best friend.
