Chapter 24 Nyah
NYAH
Igot waylaid three separate times by hotel colleagues on my way to the restaurant and ended up five minutes late instead of the two minutes early I had planned.
Normally, punctuality mattered to me, but today my focus was scattered, my nerves stretched thin.
By the time I reached the dining room, my pulse was already racing.
Inside, I spotted Harper. Wow. He looks exactly the same. He was seated at the table by the window—my usual table. Francois had undoubtedly arranged it the moment he saw the reservation come through.
Harper was as polished as ever, clean-shaven and dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, his shoes gleaming as if they had been buffed moments before. Seeing him like that—so familiar, so unchanged—made my heart beat faster despite my efforts to stay calm.
I tried to walk toward him casually, but my legs betrayed me, wobbling slightly beneath me. I shouldn’t have worn these heels today.
He stood as soon as he saw me, his tall frame rising easily, and for a moment we just looked at each other.
Seconds stretched, thick with memory, before we stepped forward and embraced.
The scent of Bleu de Chanel—the cologne, the one I had bought for him years ago—wrapped around me instantly.
It was strange how a smell could pull the past so sharply into the present.
Still the perfect gentleman, he pulled out my chair.
A glass of Cabernet Sauvignon was already waiting for me, along with a Johnnie Walker Blue on the rocks for him.
I took a sip of the wine almost immediately.
God knew I needed it. As I leaned back, I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders.
“So…” I began.
“I’m getting married.”
The words hit me harder than anything Alex had said earlier that day.
My jaw might actually have dropped open.
For a moment, it felt as though the entire restaurant had frozen around us, sound dimming, movement blurring at the edges.
I had come prepared to deflect, to defend, to politely but firmly prove that I had moved on. I had not been prepared for this.
“Her name is Daria,” Harper continued, watching me closely. “She moved to New York six months after I did. We worked a few cases together, fell in love…” He shrugged, almost sheepish. “I proposed three months ago, and we’re getting married in Bodega in November.”
The words hung in the air between us. Something inside my chest constricted, but I forced myself to keep my expression calm. I had known this moment might come one day—I just hadn’t thought I’d hear it from him like this.
“Congratulations,” I finally managed, my voice thin but firm enough. “I wish you both all the happiness in the world. You deserve it.”
The ease with which he had found the one weak point in my I’m okay armour left me completely unstrung. I lifted my glass again and took another sip, fighting the sudden, overwhelming urge to be alone.
“Nyah, I’d love for you to be there,” he said, sliding a bone-coloured envelope across the table. My name was written on the front in elegant calligraphy. “It’s a plus-two invitation. There’ll be other kids there, so we didn’t want you to have to choose between Lucas and your current partner.”
Partner? Oh boy! Harper had really outdone himself.
How would it look if I showed up with just Lucas?
First Jeremy, then this. It felt like bad news was lining up, one hit after another.
My stomach clenched as unresolved feelings stirred despite my best efforts.
We had broken up two years ago, and it had been my decision, but seeing him again had cracked something open that I hadn’t realized was still there.
“Nyah? Are you okay?”
I closed my mouth, realizing I had been staring. How long had I been sitting there like that?
Then, for the first time that day, chance intervened.
Harper stood and waved to someone across the restaurant, distracted.
The pause gave me exactly what I needed. I gathered myself, clarity settling in.
The truth would set me free.
No, I wasn’t seeing anyone. No, I hadn’t dated anyone since Harper and I separated. And no, I wasn’t dwelling on it. I was single. Blissfully so. And I was okay with that.
I turned to follow Harper’s gaze and saw a tall blonde woman approaching, wearing a red skirt suit and matching pumps. She squeezed past the table behind me just as Harper stepped out to greet her.
“Sweetheart, hi,” he said warmly, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her lips. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour.”
Oh, perfect! I crumbled inwardly as realization dug in. I was now officially the third wheel.
“The conference broke early for lunch,” she said, dabbing at the corner of Harper’s mouth where lipstick had smudged. Then she turned to me and smiled genuinely. “You must be Nyah. It’s lovely to finally meet you. Harper has told me such wonderful things.”
What a polite thing to say. “It’s lovely to meet you as well,” I replied. “Daria, I presume.”
“I’m so sorry,” Harper said, pulling out a chair for her. “Where are my manners? Nyah Rodriguez, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Daria Scott.”
We exchanged nods, and I thanked her for the wedding invitation.
Harper signalled the waiter and ordered her a Perfect Ten—the same cocktail he had always ordered for me when we were together. He winked at me. “Apparently, the two of you have the same taste in cocktails.”
Daria gestured to the empty place setting across from her. “Will your partner be joining us, Nyah?”
There it is. Time for the truth. “To be honest—”
“Honey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Caleb’s voice came from behind me.
I spun around, my hand flying instinctively to the base of my neck as I saw him weaving toward the table along the same path Daria had taken moments earlier. What is he doing here?
“I wasn’t sure I’d make it in time,” Caleb said smoothly, kissing my cheek and giving me a quick conspiratorial wink the others couldn’t see. “I was busy doing a favour for a friend.” He smiled at Harper and Daria. “So sorry I’m late.” He extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ca—”
“You’re Caleb Evans,” Daria blurted.
“Oh dear,” Caleb laughed as he moved into the empty seat. “Those Twitter photos are still trending, are they?”
“Not Twitter,” she said, laughing. “Your father was in Forbes last year. That family piece about passing the torch.”
“Ahh. You might be confusing me with my brother Simon.”
“I don’t think so,” Daria replied. “He inherited his father’s looks, unfortunately.”
“Caleb,” I cut in quickly, “this is Daria Scott… Harper’s fiancée.”
“Which means,” Caleb said smoothly, “process of elimination—you must be the famous Harper.” Their handshake was finally completed. Turning back to Daria, he added, “Fiancée… congratulations. Let me order a drink, and we can toast the happy couple.”
He ordered a Macallan 18 on the rocks.
“I’ve been trying to get a face-to-face with your brother,” Daria said. “I’d love to talk about representing your firm for legal matters in the States.”
Now it clicked. The flirtation wasn’t personal. It was business.
“We have a great in-house legal department,” Caleb replied easily.
“Multi-jurisdictional, hand-picked by my father. Simon would be disinherited if he outsourced.” He raised his glass with a grin.
“Which would be excellent news for me… unless Dad found out I introduced you. Better play it safe.” Then he lifted his glass again, this time with intent.
“Enough business. Let’s toast to the happy couple. ”
We raised our glasses.
“To Harper and Daria,” Caleb said. “To the wings of love. May they never lose a feather, but soar up to the sky above and last forever. Cheers.”
The glasses clinked.
That was beautiful, I thought, startled by how sincere it sounded. For a moment, I completely forgot about the dread I’d felt earlier over having to explain myself.
After we placed our orders, Caleb asked the most logical question, his tone casual but engaged. “So, how did you guys meet?”
Harper barely had time to open his mouth before Daria launched into the story.
She spoke animatedly, detailing every moment with enthusiasm.
I tuned her out as politely as I could, nodding occasionally and offering small smiles when appropriate.
At one point, Harper caught my eye across the table.
There was unmistakable discomfort there.
He looked trapped by her florid narration, which she paused only briefly to replace her empty Perfect Ten.
The story finally wrapped up when the appetizers were set in front of us.
“And what about you two?” Daria asked brightly. “How did you meet?”
I nearly choked on a carrot. The earlier dread rushed back, twice as powerful. Could I lie convincingly? Could I fabricate something on the spot and make it sound real?
Caleb placed his hand over mine. “Sweetheart, do you want to tell the story, or should I?”
He has something up his sleeve. “No, honey,” I said, surprised by how easily the word slipped out, how natural it felt on my tongue. “You do it so much better.”
Caleb’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
“Well,” he began, “it’s not exactly Disney material.
I was a spoiled brat with a silver spoon stuck firmly in my ass.
My father gave me an ultimatum—learn to manage the hotel where she worked, or else.
” He took a sip of his drink. “On my first day, I undermined her, went over her head, implied she was a gold digger—”
“That was the end of the first week, honey, not the first day—”
“—so it was—”
“—and you left out the part where you propositioned me.”
“Well, I had forgotten until you reminded me—”
“—then he fired me,” I finished, shrugging as I lifted my wine.
“I tried to fire her,” Caleb said calmly. “But she wouldn’t let me.”
“So we had to make up instead.”