Twenty-Three
Nancy woke slowly, the hazy weight of sleep still clinging to her limbs. The room was dim, only the faintest hint of morning light creeping in through the heavy curtains. For a moment, she didn’t register anything unusual. Just the luxurious softness of the bed, the quiet stillness of the room.
And then she felt it.
A warm weight draped over her waist. The soft, steady breath against the back of her neck. The unmistakable press of another body close to hers.
Nancy froze.
Ari.
Somehow, at some point in the night, they had shifted. Nancy was on her side, and Ari had ended up half-curled around her, one arm slung loosely over her waist, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. The warmth of Ari’s body seeped through the fabric of their sleepwear, her breath sending the smallest shiver down Nancy’s spine.
She should move. She knew she should move.
Ari stirred slightly, nuzzling into the pillow. Then, her breathing changed. Her body tightened. Nancy didn’t need to turn to know Ari was now fully awake.
A long, charged silence stretched between them.
‘Well,’ Ari said.
Nancy cleared her throat, determined to keep her tone neutral. ‘Yes. Well.’
Another beat of silence. Then, Ari shifted enough to pull her arm back, just enough to give them both space. They rolled away from each other.
‘Sorry,’ Ari said. ‘I didn’t realise…’
‘It’s fine,’ Nancy said, trying not to sound as intensely nervous as she felt.
Before either of them could say more, a sharp knock rattled the door.
‘Ari!’ Paris’s voice was urgent, muffled through the heavy wood. ‘Are you awake? I need you! It’s a disaster!’
Nancy exhaled, half in relief, half in irritation. Ari groaned into her pillow. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’
The knocking persisted. ‘Ari! Open up! I need your help!’
Ari threw the covers off and sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair. ‘Give me one minute, Paris!’ she called, voice hoarse from sleep.
Nancy sat up as well, still trying to process everything. She could feel the lingering warmth where Ari had been pressed against her. But before she could fully untangle that thought, Ari was already rolling out of bed and stumbling toward the door.
As soon as she opened it, a silk-robed Paris practically fell inside, a whirlwind of barely contained panic.
‘It’s a disaster,’ Paris repeated, breathless. ‘Last night was jazz and tonight is supposed to be a DJ, to create the perfect balance of class and cool for the event. But the DJ quit. He just sent a text saying he’s not coming. His mother died. I know he can’t help that, but he really shouldn’t have let us book him if there was a chance of it.’ Paris shook her head without any self-consciousness.
Nancy raised an eyebrow. ‘And this requires Ari because…?’
Paris turned to her as if just realising she was there, then waved a hand dismissively. ‘Because she’s Ari! She knows people, and if anyone can pull a miracle out of thin air, it’s her!’
Ari groaned but was already reaching for her phone. ‘Alright, alright. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll find you a replacement.’
Paris clutched her hands together as though Ari had just promised to save her life. ‘You’re the best. I owe you forever.’
Ari sighed dramatically, shooting Nancy a look that was half exasperation, half apology. She started pulling on a pair of Saint Laurent jeans. ‘Well. Looks like my morning’s going to be fun.’
Nancy, still sitting in the bed they had shared, just shook her head. ‘You don’t have to do it.’
Ari turned away from Nancy and swapped her bed T-shirt for an oversized Ganni wool jumper with bold stripes. Nancy realised that for a split-second, she was looking at Ari’s nearly naked back and quickly turned away.
Ari turned, dressed and unaware of the brief panic she’d caused in Nancy, already scrolling through her contacts, muttering about which DJs owed her a favour. Then she was out the door.
Left alone in the room, Nancy finally allowed herself to breathe. She glanced at the empty space beside her, the warmth still lingering.
She flopped back onto the pillows with a quiet, muffled groan.
This weekend was going to kill her.
***
Nancy watched from the doorway of the great hall, arms folded, as Ari worked the room like a general orchestrating a battle. She had three different conversations going—one by text, one on the phone, and one in person with a frantic wedding planner who was clearly on the verge of tears. Ari, meanwhile, was calm, collected, and surprisingly competent. Nancy didn’t get it.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she finally asked, cutting through the chaos. Ari barely glanced up from her phone.
‘Because I can.’
Nancy frowned. ‘That’s not a reason. You don’t even like her. Why are you helping her?’
Ari sighed, finally looking at her. ‘That’s why. If I act like I hate her, it’ll be obvious why I came. It’s better if I play along so she doesn’t suspect why I’m really here.’
Nancy tilted her head. ‘And why are you really here?’ she asked, wondering if the answer might be different in the light of day.
Ari smirked, but there was something measured in it. ‘To get my jewellery back, of course.’
‘Still doing that, then?’ Nancy checked.
‘Did you think I’d changed my mind?’
Nancy had suspected as much, but hearing Ari admit it was something of a relief.
Wait, a relief?
Nancy shook off the thought, focusing instead on Ari, who had already gone back to her messages. ‘You’re putting a lot of effort into this,’ Nancy said.
‘It’s called strategy, Nancy. If Paris thinks I’m just over everything and I have no qualms with her, she won’t see me coming. Just for once, she’ll be a step behind me.’
Nancy studied her, suspicious. Ari was good at covering, but something about the way she was throwing herself into helping Paris didn’t sit right. ‘You sure that’s all this is?’
Ari scoffed. ‘What else would it be?’
Nancy hesitated. She didn’t want to say it, but it was clawing at the edges of her mind. ‘You don’t still have feelings for her, do you?’
Ari rolled her eyes. ‘Please never say that again. I will be sick.’
Nancy wanted to believe her. But that flicker of hesitation, however brief, lodged itself in her thoughts. And worse than that—worse than the idea that Ari might not be as over Paris as she claimed—was the way Nancy’s stomach twisted at the thought.
Nancy was jealous.
She exhaled sharply, irritated at herself. Ari was her boss. Her chaos to manage. That was it. So why did the idea of Ari still caring about Paris make her feel like she’d just swallowed a shit smoothie?
Nancy straightened. ‘Right. Well, don’t let your strategy get in the way of actually getting your stuff back.’
Ari grinned. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
Nancy turned toward the door, needing a second to clear her head. ‘I’ll grab us coffee. You look like you’re going to need it.’
Ari beamed. ‘You always know what I need.’
Nancy just shook her head, already walking away before Ari could see the flicker of frustration still lingering on her face.