Chapter Sixteen
PAUL BUNION STRIKES AGAIN
Kate
Cole’s been pacing the hallway for the past ten minutes, fussing with his bow tie like it personally offended him.
“You know, it’s supposed to go under the collar,” I say, setting out wine glasses on the coffee table.
He groans, stopping in front of the mirror again. “This tux is a torture device.”
I glance up—and yeah, he looks good. Too good. The black tux fits perfectly, crisp white shirt, polished shoes. His hair’s still damp from the shower, pushed back in that way that always makes him look older, sharper. Like a man who’s about to break hearts and pretend he doesn’t notice.
“You look very handsome,” I tell him, softening. “Now stop fidgeting.”
He turns, smirking. “You sure you don’t want to come to this thing with me? We could trade—I’ll do book club, you come to the gala.”
“As tempting as that is,” I say, crossing my arms, “I’ll take wine and gossip over a room full of people I don’t know, thank you very much.”
He chuckles, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch just as the doorbell rings.
“That’ll be Margot and Helen,” I say, moving toward the door.
Cole gives me a mock look of panic. “Should I run now?”
I laugh. “Too late.”
I open the door and Margot breezes in first, wrapped in a colorful shawl, eyes immediately locking on Cole.
“Holy hell,” she says, fanning herself. “If I was twenty years younger, I’d jump your son.”
“Margot!” I gasp.
“Please,” Helen deadpans, following behind her, “you’re still considering it.”
Margot winks. “Just keeping my options open.”
Cole’s ears go red as he grabs his keys, grinning despite himself. “Nice seeing you both. I’m heading out before this gets worse.”
“Have fun,” I call, shooing him toward the door.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Margot yells after him.
“Which leaves him a lot of options,” Helen adds.
The door clicks shut and the house feels instantly lighter—full of laughter and the familiar chaos only these two can bring.
Margot flops onto the couch, kicking off her shoes. “Alright, pour me something strong. We’ve got books to pretend to discuss.”
Helen settles in beside her, already pulling out her copy. “I actually read it this time.”
I smile, heading for the kitchen. “Me too.”
Margot grins. “Well then, let’s ruin it with wine and bad advice.”
And just like that, book club begins.
Margot takes a generous sip of her wine, legs already tucked under her like she’s moved in for the night. “So, what did we think of the book? Personally, I think it was a little too heavy on the metaphors and not heavy enough on the shirtless scenes.”
Helen raises an eyebrow. “You mean the emotional rollercoaster disguised as literature?”
“Exactly. A tasteful abs moment wouldn’t have killed anyone.”
I laugh, curling into my chair. “I actually liked it. The writing was really beautiful.”
Margot waves a hand. “Sure, sure. But no one fell into bed screaming, and honestly, that’s just unrealistic.”
Helen smirks, but she’s already toeing off her shoes to get more comfortable. “I give it three stars. One of them’s just for the dog.”
Margot points. “Now that, I agree with. More dogs, less emotional repression.”
We all take a sip, pretending like we’re about to dig deeper—but then Helen shifts, rubbing her foot absently, and Margot groans.
“Oh no. Don’t do it.”
“What?” Helen blinks, all innocence.
“Don’t start with Paul Bunion again.”
I nearly spit out my wine. “Paul?”
Margot nods, deadly serious. “Her bunion. It’s got its own personality at this point.”
Helen shrugs, deadpan. “It’s a medical condition. I’m not going to apologize.”
“You’ve made us apologize to it,” Margot shoots back.
“One time,” Helen mutters.
“You made me toast it with champagne on your birthday,” Margot says, eyes wide.
“Because it’s part of me,” Helen replies, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her wine.
We dissolve into laughter that shakes our shoulders and makes it impossible to stop. I wipe my eyes, still giggling. “Okay, okay. No more about Paul.”
Margot grins, leaning forward. “Fine. We’ll switch topics.”
Her eyes gleam, and I know exactly what’s coming before she even opens her mouth.
“So… tell us about this Jack.”
I freeze, mid-sip. “What?”
Helen perks up, instantly alert. “Oh yes. Let’s. We need the full update.”
Margot’s already practically vibrating. “You’ve been holding out on us. We need details.” She rubs her hands together, more than ready for some juicy gossip.
I set my glass down, feeling my cheeks heat. “There’s nothing to tell. We’ve just… been talking.”
“Texting,” Helen corrects, arching a brow.
“Every day,” Margot adds, sing-song.
I groan, sinking lower in my chair. “It’s new. But it’s… exciting. He’s—” I stop, fumbling for words.
Helen leans in, softer now. “He’s what?”
“He’s kind,” I say, almost surprised by it myself. “And steady. Like, really steady. I didn’t expect that.”
Margot grins like she’s won something. “You like him.”
“I do,” I admit, heart thudding.
“Have you seen him since your date?” Helen asks.
“Not yet.” I shrug. “We’ve both been busy, but talking to him has been nice. The getting to know you stuff. It’s just easy, you know?”
Margot beams. “I knew it. I knew you needed to get out there more. Get laid, ideally.”
Helen laughs. “Margot.”
“What? I’m happy for her.”
I cover my face, laughing despite myself. “You two are impossible.”
Margot raises her glass. “To Jack. And to new things.”
Helen clinks hers against mine. “And to never hearing about Paul again.”
We all laugh, the wine making me warm, and the night just starting.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe, just maybe, something good is starting too.