Chapter Twenty-Four
The evening sky is a faint pink color, and the air is warm and dry.
We couldn’t have hoped for better weather, but I barely have time to take it in as I make my way back to Nush’s salon.
The blinds are closed, but the door is unlocked when I try it and I let myself in, spying Gemma’s purse where she left it on the counter.
“Gem?” I head toward the back, taking in the scattered makeup and curling tongs before knocking on the bathroom door. A thin strip of light is visible underneath. “Gemma?”
“I’m peeing,” she calls.
“You’re late.”
“Doesn’t stop me from peeing.”
I roll my eyes, moving away to give her some privacy. But when a few more minutes pass and she still hasn’t come out, I start to get antsy.
“Are you doing more than peeing?”
“Don’t ask me that!”
“It’s only me out here,” I remind her. “You can tell me. Girl code.”
“I’m fine.”
“Then come out, will you? You’re giving me stress hives.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she huffs, but I finally hear some movement and, a second later, the door flies open.
My mood instantly changes.
“You look so beautiful,” I coo, but she just pushes past me to the makeup chair.
She really does look stunning. She chose the blue dress, the one that Nush likes, and black strappy heels that I definitely wouldn’t be able to pull off, but she walks in like she wears them every day.
Her jewelry is gold and understated and whatever she’s done to her skin has made it shimmer with each step.
“What’s with the face?” I ask, as she starts to pack away the lipsticks and brushes that clutter the table. “Are you nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
“It’s okay to be nervous.”
“But I’m not.” She zips up the makeup bag. “I’ve decided not to do it.”
“Do what?”
The skirt of her dress balloons around her when she sits, and she smacks it back down as she reaches for her heels, undoing the straps with quick, jerky movements. “Tonight,” she explains. “I’m not going to do tonight. I’m not meeting my match.”
“Very funny,” I say. “But we’ve got to go. You’re late and I have, like, three tasks to do. Maybe four.”
“I’m not going, Katie.”
“Again, so funny. Chop chop.”
She removes her shoes and stands, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “I’m not going,” she repeats, and I hesitate.
“You have to go,” I say slowly. “Your match is waiting. You can’t stand him up.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. Believe me, I do.”
“Gemma—”
“It’s not like he’s going to want me anyway,” she mutters, and my mouth drops open.
“Ex cuse me?”
“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. It’s insulting.”
“I’m not pretending. What are you even talking about it?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I’m way too old for something like this.”
“You’re forty- two .”
“Exactly!” she exclaims. “Forty-two. Not twenty-two. Not thirty-two. Not any of the fun ages. And I can barely fit into this stupid dress, and I’ve made a mess of my hair and—”
“Gemma! Chill!”
She shuts up as I take her by the shoulders, holding her steady as she starts to hyperventilate.
It freaks me out seeing her like this. She’s not the freakout one. Nush and I are the freakout ones. Gemma is the sarcastic one. The tough one. She’s had to be for Noah.
“Where’s this coming from?” I ask, and she pulls out of my grip, smoothing down the front of her dress before doing it again. And again and again and again until I bat her hands away. “Stop it. Sit down.”
“Just go back to the—”
“Sit. Down,” I say, and she pauses at the warning in my tone.
She takes a seat, watching me warily, but I don’t care.
I’ve never heard Gemma speak about herself like this.
Not once. And screw her if she thinks I’m just going to let her do so now.
“I’m only going to ask one more time,” I say. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She scowls, unable to hold eye contact. “It was a mistake signing up for this. I don’t know what I was thinking putting that form in. All this talk of romance and soulmates and finding the one…I just got caught up in it.”
“We all did,” I say. “And that’s okay. But this sounds like something else, and it feels like it’s from out of nowhere.”
“It’s not from out of nowhere, it’s from experience.
From a lot of experience.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead for precisely one second before seeming to remember she has a faceful of makeup on.
“I went on lots of dates after Darren left,” she says.
“And I didn’t lie about Noah. I was upfront that I was a single parent and that’s what they were getting.
And for the most part, no one had a problem with it.
No one but me. Because it was always in the back of my mind.
What if I let myself fall for someone and he and Noah didn’t get along?
Or what if they did get along, and it didn’t work out between us?
I don’t want to put him through something like that again.
I don’t want him to get attached to someone who’s just going to disappoint him.
Noah has to come first, Katie. He will always come first.”
“I get that,” I say. “You know I do. But that doesn’t mean you have to put yourself last. Not every time. And definitely not tonight.”
But she’s not listening to me. “Darren called,” she says, and I tense, getting that instant reaction I always get when I hear his name.
“The day after Noah’s birthday. He rang up with some half-ass excuse and Noah refused to talk to him.
It’s the first time he’s ever said no to his dad.
Darren was furious. You should have heard him, Katie.
He said I’ve been poisoning his own son against him. ”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“You lie for that man every single day.”
“I know! I know I do. But the whole thing threw me. Maybe I’ve been slipping lately. Or maybe Noah’s getting to the age when he’s picking up on that stuff.”
“So what if he is? He’s not an idiot, Gemma.”
“I know he’s not, but I never wanted him to think he couldn’t have a relationship with him. He deserves to have a dad.”
“Agreed, but just not that one.”
“Then who? Who’s to say if I’ll ever find someone for both of us?”
“You can’t keep thinking like that,” I groan. “If you do, you’re going to shut down every opportunity before you even recognize it. And it’s not like you’re marrying the guy tonight. If you don’t like the guy, you can always swap. That’s what Nush is doing.”
She snorts, staring down at her lap. “I don’t even know his name.”
“Well, I can call Bridget and see,” I say. “But he’s only a five-minute walk away.”
“Ten in these heels,” she mutters.
“Beauty is pain. And you look beautiful tonight, Gem.”
“My highlighter cost thirty quid, I better look beautiful.” She swallows, indecision playing over her features.
“One drink,” I say. “One drink. One dance. See what happens. That’s all you’ve got to do tonight.”
She sighs, fiddling with her bracelet. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I repeat to make sure there is no confusion here. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Fanfreakingtastic.” I pull her to her feet, trying not to show how relieved I am. “Now put your damn shoes on.”
Despite my subtle rushing, it’s another fifteen minutes before we’re out the door.
She insists on fixing her makeup and her hair even though there is nothing to fix because my friend is a flawless annoying angel, and I’m at a loss as to how anyone could think differently.
By the time we’re walking down to Kelly’s, we are past fashionably late.
We are dramatically late. Horribly late.
And I admit to hurrying her up a little bit, ignoring her grumbles about her toes pinching when I see everyone else has gone inside.
Everyone that is but Bridget who’s still manning the reception desk and is obviously waiting for us. She visibly exhales when we round the bend and points to the one other person left waiting by the doors.
Over there , she mouths, as if it isn’t obvious, and though she tenses beside me, I pull Gemma along before she can run away again.
“Just be your usual charming self,” I say. “Remember, there’s no pressure here. Have a drink, get to know the guy and then maybe you can— oh, for feck’s sake. Adam!”
I huff in annoyance as Adam steps out of the doorway. He’s changed his clothes, swapping his usual uniform for a handsome black suit that I know for a fact the man must have rented because the man only has, like, three outfits. He scrubs up well, though. I’ll give him that.
“I hope you’re happy,” I say, dropping Gemma’s hand as I go to the desk.
Bridget shuffles beside me as I flip through the clipboard, looking for the name of Gemma’s match.
If he’s pulled a runner after my great, you can do this speech, I’m going to be furious.
“I had to leave Granny on bar duty, so God knows what’s going on in there.
Everyone will get a triple measure of gin and it will be all your fault. ”
Adam doesn’t answer, too busy staring at Gemma, who hasn’t moved from where I left her. She seems frozen to the spot, staring at the man like she’s never seen him before.
“What?” he asks, when she doesn’t say anything. “You don’t like the tux?”
She shakes her head and then, as if realizing what she’s doing, starts to nod. Great. She’s officially going back into panic mode.
“Where’s her match?” I ask Bridget, keeping my voice low. “Is he inside?”
“What?”
“Gemma’s match. You said he signed in.”
“He did.”
“Then where is he?”
Bridget just stares at me. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” she says eventually. “You know I’m bad at jokes.”
“What are you—”
She jabs a finger at the list, right under Gemma’s name, before sliding it across to…
Shit.
“You’re kidding me,” I say, glaring at Adam’s name. “I’m going to kill Granny. I’m actually going to do it this time. It’s not like we had a shortage of sign-ups.”
“Sssh,” Bridget says, nodding toward the other two.
“You knew it was me?” Gemma asks.
“I looked at the list,” Adam admits. “I assumed you did as well. Thought you were going to leave me hanging.”
“Yeah, well. I’m still considering it.” She smooths out her dress again, a move I’m beginning to realize is a nervous tic. “This is weird, right?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says. “We can pretend we’re two strangers, just like everyone else.”
“We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve known you my whole life?” She shakes her head. “Don’t you want a real match?” she asks eventually, and he huffs like she said something funny.
“Come on, Gem. It’s you.” And then, so quietly I almost miss it, “It’s always been you.”
I watch in confusion as he holds out his hand, closing the distance between them. Gemma doesn’t do anything at first and then slowly, like he might snatch it away, she takes it in hers.
“Look at us,” he says. “We’re already good at it.”
That gets a smile from her, though it’s more of her usual smirk, and at the sight of it, Adam grins so wide it’s all I can do not to stare at him. Who is this man and what did he do with my grumpy boss?
Bridget watches the whole thing with barely disguised glee. “I knew it.”
“What do you mean, you knew it?” I whisper.
“They like each other.”
“No, they don’t. I mean, they do, but not like that. They fight like cats and dogs half the time they’re together. They’re not going to last five minutes.”
“Oh, honey.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, patting my shoulder as Adam leads Gemma inside the pub. “Nothing at all.”