“I’m making them a large, I hope that’s okay,” I say, pouring the wine into our glasses.
“Fine by me.” His cheeks are flushed. “It’s been a day.”
“You can say that again. I can’t believe they pushed our picnic piece back, too. Do you think they’ll still publish it?”
“I reckon so. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I respond glumly, clinking my glass against his.
“Why do you look so upset?” he asks, concerned.
“Oh, I just really want to have an article published so I can show my parents.”
He smiles. “They’d be really proud, huh?”
“Ha!” I say, throwing him off guard. “It’s complicated,” I hurry to explain. “Anyway, sorry, we said we wouldn’t talk about work, didn’t we? Let’s focus on something else.”
There’s an eruption of guffaws and laughter from the fancily clad group on the other side of the pub. I nod toward them.
“Where do you think they’re going?” I ask him. “Maybe we could make friends and try to wrangle an invite.”
“No, thanks,” Ryan says, glancing at them. “I’m not a fan of black tie.”
“What? I love it! It’s so fun dressing up for posh events!”
“They’re the worst kind of events,” Ryan groans. “You have to stand there in an uncomfortable suit and make small talk and worst of all,dance.”
“All of that sounds great!” I laugh.
“Yeah, for people like you, who find those situations easy. For me, they’re excruciating,” he admits shyly, shrugging. “I feel so out of place, like I don’t belong and everyone knows it.”
Has he looked in the mirror? Does he not know howbeautifulhe is? If he wanted to, he’d have people falling over themselves to dance with him. Bet he looks good in a tux, too.
I haven’t drunk enough wine to say any of that to him, though.
“I’d rather just go to the pub with a friend,” he concludes.
“Like right now?”
He smiles. “Like right now.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, then. But for the record, black-tie events would be absolutely fine if you threw yourself into them. It’s about attitude. You’ve got to forget what everyone else thinks, believe you belong, and shimmy about.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I will never have that confidence. You have this amazing aura about you, Harper, like you can just walk into any room and be completely comfortable. You can talk to anyone.”
“So can you.”
“We both know that’s not true,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “I’ve never been… brave in that way. I’m so self-conscious.”
“Everyone feels that way.”
He smiles at me. “My brother used to say that to try to make me feel better, too.”
“You have a brother?”
He nods, a sadness shrouding his eyes as he turns the stem of his wine glass round and round. “Yeah. Adam. He died when we were younger. He had leukemia.”
My heart sinks. “Ryan, I’m so sorry.”
