Seven
Ari sat cross-legged in the centre of the vast hotel bed, phone in hand, jaw tight with frustration. The room was lovely—exactly the kind of place she liked, with crisp white sheets and a tasteful, modern touch—but she wasn’t enjoying any of it.
She was too busy staring at her messages, waiting for someone to save her. She’d been watching rejections roll in all day, and now she was in the dregs of her contacts.
Last-minute favour, but a fun one. Fancy coming to a wedding with me? She asked Sophie, who was not a good friend, nor one she liked that much, but generally always available.
When’s the wedding?
Saturday.
Oh, babes. That’s in two days.
Yes, she was aware.
She flipped to another thread.
Elliot. Be my wedding date?
Wish I could, but I’m in New York until next week. Bad timing, sorry.
Bad timing. That was one way to put it.
Ari sighed, rubbing her temple while scrolling through her contacts. There was no one else. No one she trusted to pull this off anyway. She needed someone who could walk in there like they belonged but also wouldn’t ask why Ari kept disappearing.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming message.
I hope you’re not stressing your lack of date. Get some sleep. It’ll all work out.
Ari blinked at the words. Nancy knew she was stressed out and was being sweet. She wasn’t paid to be sweet. It was just from the goodness of her heart.
Ari smiled and reread the message.
It’ll all work out.
The lightbulb went off. Ari’s stomach flipped.
She needed someone to accompany her to the wedding, someone with a cool head and a comforting presence. And she already had her.
If she could talk her into it.