Ignoring both types of outbursts, I finish out the happily ever after for Axel and Rosamund, and hint at the beautiful secretary who’s been pining for Wilfred all along, in the hopes that maybe it will appease Kathleen enough that I don’t get another sixteen-paragraph email from her on the subject.
When we finish up the official round of critiques, various members of the group come up to congratulate me and tell me how much they like the changes. “Thank God you switched the love interest back to Axel,” Deb tells me conspiratorially. “Wilfred was such a drip. Don’t tell Kathleen I said so.”
“I won’t,” I promise, for both our sakes.
Deb leans in toward me. “I couldn’t help but notice that Axel bears a striking resemblance to your gentleman friend. He’s very handsome, though I gotta say, I never pictured you with such a bad boy.”
I catch Thad’s gaze across the room, where he’s talking to Nina and a sulky Matilda. For a brief moment, we just smile at each other, and in that moment, I feel the weight of everything we’ve been through, the promise of everything to come, a pleasant premonition.
“He’s not so bad,” I tell her with a knowing smile. And I’m not so good, either.
I’d say we fit each other just about right.
Epilogue
Helen
After the reading, Matilda, Nina, and I go out for drinks, as is our tradition, only this time, I invite Thad to come along.
“Are you sure?” he asks me quietly. “I don’t want to interfere with friend time.”
I can see why he might be hesitant, considering that Matilda has literally not stopped glaring at him all night, but Nina is actually the one who insisted on it, and it’s so rare for her to assert herself on anything that I feel like I have to capitulate. “It’s fine,” I reassure him. “Don’t worry—I don’t think Matilda will actually poison your drink, even if she might strongly consider it…”
Normally we go to the wine bar down the street from the library, so I’m surprised when Nina insists that we try out a pub a few blocks over instead. I assume that she must be trying to help Thad feel more comfortable, though it does little to ingratiate him any further with Matilda.
“An Irish pub?” she scoffs as we enter the place. “If I wanted a stranger to get blackout drunk and puke on my shoes, I’d ride the L after last call.”
Seeming to sense the brewing mutiny, Thad offers to buy the first round and elbows his way through the crowd up to the bar while we ex-nuns find a table. The atmosphere in this place is definitely a bit more raucous than the wine bar, and I’m frankly surprised that Nina was brave enough to set foot in here, much less suggest it. “Where did you hear about this place?” I shout-ask her over the live band.
“A friend recommended it,” Nina says vaguely, not quite meeting our eyes as she says it.
Glancing over, I see that Thad has made some headway at the bar, though there’s still quite a line. He might be a while.
When I look back, Matilda has turned her glare to me. “Is he going to stick around this time?” she asks me flatly.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, and can’t help but add, “But only because of how welcoming you’ve been.”
I don’t really blame her though, truly. Matilda is just looking out for me, in her own prickly, aggressive way. It’s how she shows that she loves me. And I know that Thad will prove her wrong, whatever else she might think.
Before Matilda can get out the retort I can see she has planned, a tall, dark-haired, handsome man approaches the table, his gaze on Nina. “Excuse me.” Even raising his voice to be heard over the band, it’s clear he has a faint Irish accent.
Already primed to be grouchy, Matilda openly rolls her eyes at this familiar interruption. “Not interested, buddy. Move it along.”
He frowns at her in surprise before looking back to Nina. “Sorry—Antonina, right? I thought we said nine.”
As Matilda and I both turn to Nina with matching expressions of astonishment, she blushes but sticks out her hand to the man. “Yes, sorry. I’m Antonina. You must be Grady.” Darting a quick side-eye at the two of us, she continues on boldly, “It’s been a busy night and I haven’t had a chance to tell my friends about you yet.”
Matilda groans, burying her face in her hands. “Not you, too, Nina!”
Ignoring her theatrical outburst, I extend my hand to the man. Grady, apparently. I also have no idea what’s going on, but if Nina wants to invite a date along to our group hangout, I don’t want to be the reason he’s scared off. “Hi! I’m Helen, and our rude friend is Matilda.” I say it with no spite in my tone, hoping to convey to him that he shouldn’t take her too seriously, since we don’t.
“Grady Kelley,” the man returns, shaking my outstretched hand with obvious relief. He’s really a handsome man, I notice, with his strong jaw and dark eyes, though he looks a bit older than what I would have chosen for Nina, closer to his forties than her own twenty-four years. I guess age is only a number, though.
I turn to Nina, hoping she’ll offer some explanation. “Did the two of you meet online?” I prompt her.
“No. Deandra gave him my number.”
“Deandra?” I echo, taking a moment to piece together the not-so-common name. Unless I’m mistaken, she must be referring to Deandra Wilcox, the ex-nun who used to organize the meetings for former sisters where Nina, Matilda, and I first met. But why would Deandra give this man Nina’s number…?
