Epilogue One Year Later
Freddie asked Anne to marry him on a Thursday.
It wasn’t something he planned to do. In fact, as he stood in the back room of Planet Rose, surrounded by a crowd of friends and barely recognized acquaintances, each waiting to take the small stage to sing karaoke, it didn’t even enter his mind.
All he could think about was how Will was beside him, still trying to maintain a conversation over the din of the room.
By the time Cricket and James climbed onto the stage and began singing “I Got You Babe” at the top of their lungs, he was practically yelling in Freddie’s ear.
“What?” Freddie replied, leaning closer to his friend as the song reached its chorus.
“I said we might take off after the girls’ next song,” his friend repeated loudly.
Freddie frowned. “It’s only eleven.”
“And?” Will asked.
George appeared from the crowd then, just as Cricket and James wailed “BABE!” in unison.
Freddie was almost surprised to see him return so quickly.
When he had excused himself a few minutes ago to refresh his drink, he barely made it two feet before he was pulled into a conversation with Birdie Carrington, who needed his help to convince a slightly tipsy Bianca Russell to move back to New York, and enlist Birdie as her Realtor.
Freddie knew that was only the beginning.
The party was filled with longtime friends, all of whom George would stop and say hello to, ask about their families and jobs, make them feel seen and listened to before worrying about himself.
The fact that he had managed to return to them already, drink in hand, was something akin to a miracle.
Freddie didn’t point that out, though. Instead, as soon as George stopped at his side, he motioned to Will. “He says he’s leaving.”
George turned to Will, giving him the same frown that Freddie had just a few moments before. “It’s only eleven.”
Will looked mildly annoyed. “Why are you both obsessed with the time?”
“Because it’s a New Year’s Eve party, Will,” Freddie said, clapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder, like he was breaking some difficult news. “Those typically run until midnight.”
Will’s expression remained flat. “And have you tried getting a car after midnight in New York on New Year’s?”
George chuckled. “Touché.”
The room broke into applause as James and Cricket finished their song with a flourish. They bowed and stumbled off the stage, Cricket into Glen’s arms and James into Ellis’s lap, just as the DJ’s voice came through the speakers overhead.
“All right, next up we have Anne, Emma, and Lizzy,” he announced.
Another cheer rose as three heads popped up from the long zebra-print upholstered bench across the room and the women made their way to the stage.
Emma led the charge, her long dark hair swaying along the back of her pink fitted satin jacket.
Behind her, Lizzy marched in time to the music, her oversized New Order T-shirt hanging off one shoulder and her red hair pulled over one shoulder.
And then Anne appeared, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and lips wide with a smile as she adjusted the very chic—and very expensive—oversized blazer Emma let her borrow for the night.
Even under the spotlights, Freddie could see how her blue eyes scanned the room until they found him. Then her smile broadened.
It had been a year since Eufloria’s grand opening.
Twelve months since they had both finally grown up and admitted everything they had been feeling over the eight years that preceded it.
And yet, when she looked at him like that, he still felt his heart struggle to operate, tripping and catching like a motor caught in the wrong gear.
No matter how much time had passed, he still felt like that eighteen-year-old freshman who had spotted her sitting alone at the Half Pint, reading a book about the history of mathematics, and known his life was about to change forever.
“ ‘FREE BIRD’!” Sophie screamed from a few feet away, her arm thrown around Bev’s shoulder.
The two had gotten surprisingly close over the past year, especially after Bev revealed that she used to do all the floral bouquets for Andy Warhol’s Factory.
She started working part-time during the Valentine’s Day rush last year, and now that Sophie and Anne were busy opening a second Eufloria location uptown, Bev was practically managing the original location on her own.
Anne laughed as she looked across the room. “Right. Before we get to our song, I just wanted to say thank you for coming out tonight and celebrating New Year’s with us.”
Another cheer rose up from the crowd, and Freddie’s heart swelled so much his chest hurt.
A year ago, he had thought he was done throwing parties.
It wasn’t that he disliked them, only that the motivation behind them was moot.
But just a couple of weeks after the Eufloria party last year, Freddie had taken Anne to a Christmas party hosted by George and his girlfriend, Emma.
Apparently, Emma’s family threw one every December, and when they pulled up to the imposing townhouse on East Eighty-Third Street, it looked warm and festive, yet also utterly intimidating.
But then the front door had swung open and Emma was there alongside Will’s girlfriend, Lizzy.
They had swarmed around Anne and ushered her inside before he even had a chance to introduce them.
The three women had been inseparable ever since.
That’s how, during a late-night karaoke session at this very bar back in May, the idea for this party was born.
Tradition dictated that Emma Woodhouse throw a Christmas party uptown but New Year’s Eve was fair game, so after a few songs at Planet Rose—and half a vodka and soda for Anne—the plan was hatched.
A New Year’s Eve party with all their closest friends, right there at that downtown bar.
George had agreed, and Will, too, but only because he was sure all the alcohol meant the three women would forget the idea by morning.
Freddie wasn’t so certain. Sure enough, just a few weeks later, Anne had invited Lizzy and Emma to a text thread about organizing the event, complete with links to the appropriate spreadsheets.
“For those of you that have known me for a while, I’ve never been one for big parties,” Anne said. “But right now, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”
Lizzy let out an unbridled “Wahoo!” and the crowd laughed.
“The New Year is a time for new beginnings. And I’m a big fan of those,” Anne continued, a smile still teasing her lips as her eyes found Freddie’s again. “So Happy New Year’s, everybody. Thanks for spending it with us.”
Another cheer, but this one was from the whole group, punctuated by smiles and hugs and raised glasses all directed at the incredible woman standing before them.
Freddie raised his glass to Anne, too, not even trying to curb the look of adoration on his face.
Back in college, he had been known as the ringmaster behind some of the most legendary soirees in NYU history.
But he hadn’t thrown those parties just because he enjoyed them.
It was also an attempt at coaxing Anne out of her shell, so the world could see what he saw.
In the end, he didn’t need to worry about that.
She didn’t know how to follow someone into a party.
That didn’t mean she didn’t know how to lead them.
The music kicked in then, a tinny, instrumental version of “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’,” and Emma stepped forward. She looked more tipsy than her cohorts as she leaned into the microphone, gripping it tightly with both hands and squinting against the spotlights.
“Where is my boyfriend?” she said, her voice loud and muffled.
George smiled as he yelled out, “Over here.”
Emma’s gaze darted over. Then she pointed at him. “Knightley. This one’s for you.”
Knightley chuckled as the three women started singing, each at a completely different pitch.
“Did I miss something?” Will asked.
George shook his head, still smiling. “I asked her to marry me again and she said no.”
Freddie laughed. George had asked Emma to marry him a dozen times since they finally admitted they loved each other three years ago.
And even though she had officially moved in with him over the summer, she was still adamant about never walking down the aisle.
Freddie never really understood why, though, and last summer, while the six of them were out in the Hamptons staying at Will’s house in Montauk, he made the mistake of asking Emma.
He ended up spending the next hour listening to her pontificate on how people’s antiquated notions of marriage were detrimental to the advancement of women in the twenty-first century.
“Why do you keep asking her?” he asked.
George sighed. “Is it weird if I say foreplay?”
“Yes,” Will murmured, taking a sip of his beer.
George smiled again. “All right. Maybe it’s just a way of letting her know that I don’t care either way.
I know she doesn’t want to, and I’m all right with that.
But if she changes her mind, the offer is there, too.
” He took a sip of his drink and nodded to the stage, where the three women had abandoned the lyrics in a fit of laughter.
“This isn’t Regency England. They don’t need us to survive.
They’ll flourish either way. So then, it’s really up to them if they want it. ”
Freddie turned to Will. “What about you and Lizzy?”
Will looked at him as if this was a stupid question.
George chuckled. “So what are you waiting for?”
“We’re not in a rush,” Will said, his gaze drifting back to the stage. His expression softened a bit when his eyes met Lizzy’s. “Besides, her older sister is getting married soon, so she doesn’t want to take any attention away from that.”
George nodded again, then turned to Freddie. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What are you waiting for?”