“I’d prefer that too.” Tarryn waited while Sophie pushed papers aside to clear a space, then sat, her nachos in front of her. She lifted her glass of water. “Here’s to a successful festival.”
“Yes, it went well. Thank you so much for all your help, Tarryn. I couldn’t have done it without you. You were great.”
“I think we turned out to be a good team.”
“We did—our rocky start smoothed out well. And thank you, too, for stepping up for the fake wedding. I know it’s the last thing you wanted to do—”
“You don’t say!” Tarryn smirked. “I thought I hid it well.”
“As well disguised as a lioness in a cat café.”
“Maybe I could open an alpaca café in Quandong.” Tarryn dug a corn chip into the pile of beans and followed up with a pass through the sour cream. “Ally and Elly could make my fortune.”
“Elly, maybe. I’m not sure Ally would play along.”
“She’d learn. Eventually. We all can learn whatever we put our minds to, can’t we?”
Sophie’s smile flattened, and she stared into her glass of water.
What had she said? Tarryn couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t compliments and banter, but Sophie definitely looked less at ease than she had a moment ago. “Okay, I guess alpaca café is off the list of career choices. Maybe I could learn to make nachos as good as these instead. Now that would be a sure-fire money spinner.”
“It would.” Sophie ate a corn chip. “This pulled pork is amazing. Like they slow roasted it for hours rather than buying it ready made from a supermarket freezer.”
“I don’t know I’d go that far.” Tarryn paused. “Why are we talking about nachos?”
“What do you want to talk about?” The purr was back in Sophie’s voice. “We can talk about anything now we’re married.” She tilted her head. “Are you Tarryn Lane or am I Sophie Harris?”
“How about Harris-Lane?”
“It sounds like a street in inner Sydney,” Sophie shot back. “How about Lane-Harris?”
“I don’t know how same-sex couples sort it out. Do they toss a coin? Is it alphabetical order? The person who proposed gets to go first?”
“If your last name started with A, I’d change my name in a shot,” Sophie said. “I always wanted an alliterative name.”
What was she missing in the wine-and-tequila fog? “Don’t you mean started with S?”
The pinkness crept up Sophie’s neck and she glanced down to one side. “Uh, yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking there.”
Tarryn smiled; she was very adorable when flustered, even if right now, Tarryn didn’t understand why. “We could make up a name.”
“Harrane.”
“Larris.” Tarryn shook her head. “If someone had said to me even a month ago I’d be spending Saturday night trying to think of a married name for myself and my fake bride, I’d have laughed them all the way back to the tequila bottle. It’s right up there with little girls playing dress up as brides.”
“This is a bit surreal. I played brides when I was a kid. I married my best friend countless times when I was five. Then we played house,” Sophie said.
“Did you practice kissing too?”
“We were five. Of course we did. Usually in Robyn’s treehouse.”
It all sounded so simple and happy. A treehouse, a best friend, practice kisses. There was probably a puppy.
“Robyn’s puppy always wanted to join us, and we made her be our bridesmaid,” Sophie continued. “We hoisted her up to the treehouse in a shopping basket on a rope.”
Well, there it was. It was official—the most wholesome thing she’d heard all day.
“What did you do with your best friend?” Sophie asked.
