Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Present Day
As the last note leaves my lips, I know the room heaves a collective sigh of relief.
Despite my aspirations to be New Zealand’s answer to Lady Gaga, I know I’m not what anyone would call a great singer. Or even a good singer. At best, I’m passable. Although judging by the looks on my friends’ faces when I get back to our table, I didn’t quite reach the lofty heights of “passable” tonight.
Just another one of my failings.
“Great job, babe,” Darcy says with a pat on my back as I sit down at our table.
“Oh, yeah. Great job. You were super good, tonight, Soph,” Erin echoes.
I look from one grinning, over-eager face to the other. Erin and Darcy are the best friends a girl could have, but when it comes to me, honesty is not exactly their strong point right now.
I press my lips together as laughter begins to bubble up inside me. It’s no use. In seconds, I’m doubled over, and after a beat, my friends join in.
“Oh, my gosh. I was terrible up there,” I manage between giggles.
I know neither Darcy nor Erin will come out and actually say it. Since the day Andrew dumped me at Bailey’s wedding and went off with the next girl, they’ve been walking on tiny, precious eggshells around me. Apparently, I’ve never looked better, I’m the best barista in the Southern Hemisphere, and the world has been starved of my musical prowess for far too long.
None of that is true, of course, especially the musical prowess thing.
“You weren’t terrible, Soph.” Erin shakes her head as she wipes the tears of laughter from under her eyes. “You got the melody right. Well, some of the time, anyway.”
“And you looked super cute in that new dress up there,” Darcy adds and she and Erin both nod. “Only, maybe next time, babe, why don’t you not choose a Kelly Clarkson song?”
“It’s my anthem. Kelly’s my soul sister,” I protest. “I love ‘Stronger!’”
“Honey, it doesn’t love you,” Darcy says in a rare moment of honesty, winning a slap on the arm from Erin. “Ouch!”
Erin glares at Darcy. “This is for fun, and it’s good therapy for Soph.”
I let out a puff of air. “You girls are great. I sucked. I know it, you know it, everyone here knows it. Watch this.” I lean back in my chair and tap a guy on the shoulder behind me. “Excuse me, sir. Did you like the way I sang that song a minute ago?”
His eyes dart from me to my friends and back again. “Uh, I don’t know what to say.”
“Be honest. I sucked, right?”
He chortles. “Howler monkeys have nothing on you. I mean, that top note? Ouch! And then in the chorus when you tried to hold—”
I’ve heard more than enough, I cut him off. “Yes, okay. I got it. Thank you.” Some people don’t know how to sugar-coat things, do they? I turn back to my friends. “See?”
“A howler monkey? He could have been nicer about it,” Erin complains.
“You chose that song because you’re feeling stronger, right?” Darcy asks hopefully. “It’s time you got over that jerk, Soph. Andrew Foster is not worth your time.”
“Totally,” Erin agrees. “The way he dumped you at that wedding and then hooked up with that girl? Jerk.”
“Scum.”
“A-hole.”
It’s like watching a game of tennis between these two, the ball being insults to label my ex.
“I know.” I let out a puff of air and slump my shoulders. “I heard they’re still dating, him and the red-dress wedding hook-up girl.” I try to keep the bitterness from my voice. Fail. “I mean, who wears a scarlet red dress with a plunging neckline to a wedding? So inappropriate.”
“Babe, we’ve been talking, and we think it’s time you moved on,” Darcy says as Erin nods. “I mean, look around you. There are cute men everywhere.” She gestures around the room.
I follow where she’s pointing to a table of middle-aged men. Their hair is thinning, their beer bellies are pressed up against the table, and at least one of them looks old enough to be my dad. “Those guys? I may be dateless, but I’m not desperate. Not yet, anyway.”
“I don’t mean them, specifically. I just mean there are lots of guys out there, that’s all.” Darcy has that stern look on her face, the one I bet she uses to get things done in her job as personal assistant to a local celebrity. “You’re twenty-five. Enough with the moping. It’s time to get out and get amongst it.”
I shake my head. “The problem is, I think I suck at choosing who to date.”
“No, you don’t,” Erin protests.
“Yes, I do. Need I remind you of Andrew?”
“She’s right. She does.” Darcy presses her lips together as she nods. “And I’m not just talking about Andrew Foster. Remember that guy you dated last year? What was his name? The one with the tropical fish your cat ate.”
“Kyle Butler.” The way he dumped me over that darn fish still stings. Talk about an overreaction. “In her defense, Freckles is a born hunter. She can’t help it. It’s her instinct. And anyway, I really didn’t think he’d notice.”
“I don’t get what your cat was doing at his apartment in the first place,” Erin says.
“I brought her to keep me company when I went to feed his stupid fish. He was out of town, and I was only trying to help him out.”
Darcy snaps her fingers. “Focus, girls. Look at that guy over there.” She points at a guy in a navy shirt and jeans, leaning against the bar. “He’s really cute. Just your type, Soph.”
I size him up. He’s probably about our age, maybe a few years older. He’s good looking, that’s for sure, but with his blond hair and fair skin, he could almost be related to me.
“How do I know he’s not a jerk? How do I know he won’t dump me at a wedding, or freak out over some fish? Which, by the way, wasn’t even that nice to look at. Why Freckles chose that one to kill and not one of the other more beautiful ones, I just don’t know.”
“She’s right, Darcy,” Erin says. “We’re all single. We’ve all had our fair share of bad dates and bad relationships. All we want is to date nice, decent guys, right?” Darcy and I both nod. “This isn’t just about Sophie. It’s about all of us.”
Darcy’s shoulders slump. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
“See? It’s a hopeless situation,” I say. “We may as well agree to stay single the rest of our lives. It’s a whole lot easier. And it’d cost a lot less in replacement fish.”
“How much was it?” asks Erin.
“$350.”
“What?” Erin does her best impersonation of fish eyes. “$350 for a fish you don’t even eat?”
“Freckles did,” Darcy says with a sardonic smile. “So, what are we going to do about it?”
I push my eyebrows together. “The dead fish?”
Darcy shakes her head. “No, not the dead fish. What are we going to do about the fact we keep on dating the wrong guys?”
A seed of an idea begins to grow in my mind. “My bosses agreed to a dating pact.”
Darcy sucks her cocktail up through a straw and asks, “What sort of dating pact?”
“They called it the ‘Last First Date Pact.’ Basically, they agreed that the next guy they each dated would be The One,” I explain.
Darcy’s eyes get huge. “Geez Louise! The pressure! Can you imagine?”
“So, if you go on a date with a guy, whether you like him or not, you’re stuck with him. Like, forever ?” Erin asks.
“Yup. Although they did vet the guys first.”
“That sounds like its own special kind of crazy, right there,” Darcy says.
“I hear you. It sounds insane. But let me tell you something that might change your mind. Of the four friends who went in on the pact, three are married, and the other one is so loved-up with her guy, it makes me feel like breaking something every time they’re in the café together. Well, since Andrewgate, anyway.”
Erin’s eyebrows ping up to meet her hairline. “Are you saying the pact worked out for every single one of them?”
I nod. “Mm-hm.”
Erin puts her hands in the air. “Okay. You got me.”
“Me too. How does it work?” Darcy asks.
“I don’t know, exactly. All I know is they agreed that they weren’t going to date anyone who didn’t have the potential to be their H.E.A.” I lift my cocktail to my lips and take a sip.
“H.E.A.?” Darcy questions.
“Happily Ever After, babe,” Erin explains. “You should read romance novels rather than those thrillers you like so much. Most of them end with a wonderful, satisfying H.E.A.”
“Sounds too predictable to me,” Darcy scoffs.
“They are predictable, but no one cares. Because they’re wonderful.” Erin grins, her hand on her heart.
“Maybe the three of us could agree to some sort of pact?” I suggest.
Darcy pushes her long dark hair behind her ear. “It seems super serious to me.”
“Yeah, and super scary,” Erin adds. “I’m not even sure I want to get married yet. I just want to date nice guys. Ones that won’t steal my shoes.”
Darcy laughs. “OMG, I totally forgot that happened to you!”
“What do you think he did with them?” I ask. “He couldn’t have worn them. You’ve got feet the size of a seven-year-old.”
“Hey! I may be short, but I’m perfectly formed,” Erin protests. “At least that’s what Dad always tells me. And I do not want to think about what Mark did with my shoes.” She shivers. “What a creep.”
“Guys with weird shoe fetishes aside, I’m with you, girl. I’m not in the marriage space either, not like my sisters. Boring ,” Darcy says. “Dating is fun. But I would love to date some nice guys for a change.”
“That’s called an H.F.N., Darce: Happy For Now,” Erin explains helpfully.
“Where do you get all these acronyms, Erin?” Darcy asks.
“I told you, romance novels. Although I much prefer an H.E.A. to an H.F.N.”
Darcy puts her head in her hands. “Stop hurting my brain, Erin.”
I try the expression out. “Happy For Now. I like the sound of that. Nothing too serious, nothing too permanent. Just . . . happy for now.”
Erin nods. “Exactly.”
Darcy looks back up at us. “Happy is good, and the ‘for now’ part sounds a whole lot less scary than ‘forever,’ that’s for sure.”
I tap my chin as I formulate an idea. “Girls? How about we make a pact that we’re only going to date the good guys. No more jerks, no more creeps with weird shoe fetishes,” I raise my eyebrows at Erin, “no weirdos obsessed with sea life, and definitely no more jerks who dump us at weddings.”
A flicker of a smile spreads across Darcy’s face. “The No More Bad Dates Pact.”
Erin nods, Darcy’s smile catching. “The No More Bad Dates Pact. I like it. OMG, we could hashtag it! It’ll become a thing, like Jimmy Fallon’s worst first dates from a while back. It could be so fun!”
“I’m not interested in trending. I’m interested in dating non-jerks, and having some fun,” I say.
“We could do both?” Erin suggests with a hopeful look on her gorgeous face. “#NoMoreBadDates.”
“Of course we can!” Darcy’s excitement matching mine.
I beam at both my friends. “Hashtag or no hashtag, we’re agreed. We’re going to date nice guys, guys we want to be with, guys who actually deserve us.”
“Yes!” they both reply with gusto.
I raise my glass, and my friends follow suit. “To the No More Bad Dates Pact. May it bring us all our H.F.N.s.”
As we clink glasses, I feel a rush of optimism for the first time since that fateful day with Andrew. The No More Bad Dates Pact sounds like exactly what I need. I cannot wait to start.