Chapter 49 Loose Ends #2
“We’re in a relationship.”
Sebastian set down his mug with the kind of precision that suggested he was trying not to smile. “Are we?”
“Don’t make me throw something at you.”
“I’m just saying, it’s nice to hear you say it.” His smile was soft, genuine. “Yes. Let’s tell them.”
Harper felt a wave of relief. “Really?”
“Really. I’m tired of pretending you’re just my very attractive houseguest who happens to be extremely opinionated about my kitchen organization.”
“Your kitchen organization is a crime against humanity.”
“See? Opinionated.”
They decided on a dinner party. Nothing dramatic. Just their usual group, good wine, and what Sebastian insisted on calling a “soft launch” until Harper threatened to soft launch him off the balcony.
“Casual,” Harper said, making a list. “We’ll just… be ourselves. Hold hands maybe. See if anyone notices.”
“Harper, darling, Alexander notices when I get a haircut from a different barber. He’s going to notice.”
“Good point. Maybe we ease into it?”
They spent an embarrassing amount of time planning their reveal strategy, like a military operation conducted entirely through text messages and Post-it notes.
The night of the dinner, Harper changed clothes three times.
“It’s just dinner with our friends,” Sebastian said, watching her debate between two nearly identical navy dresses.
“Our friends who think we still cordially despise each other.”
“Do we not?”
She threw a pillow at him.
By seven-thirty, the flat was filled with familiar voices and the scent of the takeaway Sebastian had ordered from three different restaurants (“I’m hedging my bets”).
Alexander and Emilia arrived first, Alexander carrying wine and Emilia carrying what appeared to be homemade cookies.
“I still stress-bake,” she explained to Harper. “It drives the palace kitchens crazy but I’m the queen, who’s going to stop me?”
Jules came with champagne and gossip about a mutual acquaintance’s spectacular divorce. Ethan arrived precisely on time with flowers and complaints about traffic.
They settled into easy conversation, the same comfortable dynamic they’d developed over months of group dinners and wedding planning.
Except now Harper was hyperaware of every casual touch.
The way Sebastian’s hand was on her shoulder as he poured wine, her fingers brushing his when she passed him a plate.
“So,” Harper said during a lull in conversation, her hand finding Sebastian’s on the table. “We have something to tell you.”
The room went quiet.
Sebastian squeezed her fingers. “Harper and I are—”
“Finally admitting you’re together?” Jules interrupted, wine glass raised. “Thank god. The pretense was getting exhausting.”
Harper blinked. “What?”
Ethan pulled out his phone. “We literally have a group chat called ‘Harper and Sebastian Are Obviously Dating.’ Want to see the texts?”
“You have what now?” Sebastian demanded.
Alexander was grinning. “It’s been obvious for a while. Months, really”
“Months?” Harper’s voice climbed an octave.
Emilia counted on her fingers. “Let’s see. There was the wedding, when you two kept sneaking glances at each other during the reception. Then the way Sebastian talked about you when you weren’t around—”
“How did I talk about her?”
“Like she’d invented fire,” Alexander said dryly.
Jules leaned forward, clearly enjoying herself. “And Harper, darling, you started wearing colours. Actual colours. I knew something was up when you showed up to lunch in that blue dress.”
“What’s wrong with blue?” Harper protested.
“Nothing. But you’d worn black to every social event before that. Then suddenly you’re in blue and you’re… glowing.”
“I was not glowing.”
“You were definitely glowing,” Ethan confirmed. “Also, Sebastian, you actually seemed happy again.”
Sebastian ran his free hand through his hair. “How long have you all known?”
“Known known, or suspected?” Alexander asked.
“Either.”
“Suspected? The wedding,” Jules said. “Known for sure? About three weeks ago when Ethan saw you two at that bookshop downtown. You were holding hands and Sebastian was carrying Harper’s books like some kind of Victorian gentleman.”
Ethan nodded enthusiastically. “You kissed her forehead when you thought no one was looking. It was disgustingly sweet.”
Harper covered her face with her free hand. “Oh my god.”
“The European summer was the final nail in the coffin,” Alexander added. “Two weeks of Sebastian being uncharacteristically quiet about his vacation plans, Harper’s social media going dark, and both of you returning with matching tans? Please.”
The room erupted in laughter. Harper looked around at their friends, these people who’d apparently been watching their relationship unfold with the dedication of documentary filmmakers and wanted to laugh as well.
“So,” she said slowly, “you’re all happy about this?”
“Harper, we’ve been rooting for you two since before you figured it out yourselves. You’re perfect for each other. It’s nauseating.” Ethan scoffed.
“Speak for yourself,” Jules said. “I think it’s rather sweet. Enemies to lovers is such a classic trope.”
“We were never enemies,” Sebastian protested.
“You once told me you’d rather be trapped in a room with a honey badger than deal with her again,” Alexander laughed.
“I was joking!”
“And Harper once wrote that piece calling you ‘an aristocratic peacock with delusions of relevance,’” Emilia added helpfully.
Harper winced. “I was having a bad week.”
“See?” Jules gestured with her wine glass. “Classic enemies to lovers.”
Sebastian squeezed Harper’s hand. “Well. This went differently than expected.”
“Better or worse?” Harper asked.
“Better,” he said without hesitation. “Definitely better.”
Ethan raised his glass. “To Harper and Sebastian, for finally admitting what the rest of us figured out months ago.”
“To not having to pretend we don’t see you making heart eyes at each other,” Jules added.
“To the end of the world’s most obvious secret relationship,” Alexander concluded.
They clinked glasses, and Harper felt the last bit of tension she’d been carrying for months simply… dissolve.
Later, after everyone had gone home and they were cleaning up the detritus of dinner, Sebastian wrapped his arms around Harper from behind as she loaded the dishwasher.
“That was terrifying,” he murmured against her hair.
“That was perfect,” Harper corrected, leaning back against him.
“No more hiding?”
“No more hiding,” she agreed. “Though apparently we were terrible at it anyway.”
Sebastian laughed. “Next time, we’re just leading with the truth.”
“Next time?”
“Next relationship milestone we need to announce. Moving in officially, maybe. Getting engaged.” He paused. “Not that I’m suggesting anything. Just… hypothetically.”
Harper turned in his arms, studying his face. “Hypothetically?”
“Very hypothetically.”
She kissed him, slow and certain. “I love you, you ridiculous man.”
“I love you too,” he said against her lips. “Even if you do reorganize my spice cabinet without permission.”
“Your spice cabinet was chaos.”
“It was organized by colour.”
“That’s not how spices work, Sebastian.”
And there, in his kitchen, their kitchen arguing about spice organization while the dishwasher hummed and the city sparkled beyond the windows, Harper realized she’d finally found the ending to her story.
Not the dramatic one she’d once imagined, full of grand gestures and sweeping declarations.
Just this: real, messy, ordinary love. The kind that survived friends who noticed everything, summers in foreign countries, and the daily negotiation of whose turn it was to make coffee.
The kind worth fighting for.