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“You know,” Ava declares, as if reading my mind. “You could meet someone this weekend. How amazing would that be? A proper little meet cute.”
“Or,” Lottie interjects, reaching for her glass, “this could be the weekend you accidentally marry a charming stranger who buys all your books and whisks you off to live in his mansion. There’s going to be celebrities there, right? It could happen, that’s all I’m saying.”
I shoot them both a death stare over the rim of my glass. “I regret coming here already.”
Lottie laughs so hard a sharp spray of Pinot Grigio erupts out of her nose. I snort, tossing a cushion at them, catching Ava in the side of the face, making me laugh too.
“There will be no romance this weekend thank you children. I’m going to sit behind my table, aggressively avoid eye contact, and sell, like, three books to people who feel sorry for me.”
“Rude.” Lottie chuckles. “You’ll sell at least five.”
“Six if you smile,” Ava adds, cracking up again.
Grabbing some popcorn, I throw a handful in their direction. “You two are the worst.”
“Yet, we’re happily married,” Ava says, waggling her eyebrows. “You deserve that happiness too babes, besides we really want to be bridesmaids and Noelle would be the cutest flower girl.”
“She really would,” I agree. I adore her, but not enough to get married. “I just… Don’t see that in my future, the single life is for me, really.”
“Hell, yeah girl,” Lottie hollers, between mouthfuls of popcorn. “You don’t need no man.”
Ava kicks her gently. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am honest, I’m just also on Bri’s side.” She shrugs. “I am the Nile, the river, the bridge…. Whatever that saying is? I am reason, and I need more wine,” she announces between giggles, reaching for the bottle to top us up again.
“Honestly, though I’m more worried about the convention itself. There are going to be so many people. And noise. And… Small talk.” A shudder rips through me. “And I have to sell things. Like, talk to strangers and convince them I’m worthy of their money.”
Ava’s expression softens. “Hey. Your book is amazing. You don’t have to convince anyone of anything.”
“It will sell itself, that blurb is… Chef’s kiss. And your cover is literally gold, that book will fly off the shelves, you’ll see," Lottie adds gently.
I shrug. “What if it doesn’t? What if I just sit there all weekend and spiral?”
Ava reaches over clinking her glass gently against mine. “Then you text us, and we send you increasingly unhelpful encouragement.”
“Like, have you tried being more charming?” Lottie snorts.
“Or, simply sell more things,” Ava adds unhelpfully.
“You’re both fired as my support system.”
“Too late,” Ava says. “No refunds.”
“I just want to get through it without melting down or hiding in a bathroom for an hour.”
“Ok, plan. What do you need?” Lottie asks.
“Not to go,” I blurt. “Failing that, snacks. And a script for talking to people so I don’t panic and say something weird.”
“You never say anything weird, do you?” Ava replies.
One eyebrow raises.
“Ok, ok you say things interestingly.”
Lottie grabs her phone off the table. “We’ll write you a script,” she says, typing fiercely. “Something like; Hi! I’m Bri, these are my romance books that feature Fae and Dragons having lots of sex. Let me know if you have any questions.”
“Oh my god, I can’t say that. The Fae and Dragons absolutely do not have sex together, it’s not that… It is not that.” I squeal, clutching a cushion to my chest. "There's absolutely no dragon sex, it's romantasy... vampire and witch, sure. Werewolf and fae, absolutely. But dragons are familiars, not love interests."
