Harper’s eyebrows jump like they’re on springs.
“Ohhh. It’sColt.You…kinda stopped talking about him.”
“Don’t,” I mutter, covering my eyes with my hand.
She grins behind her glass.
“Can I confess something?”
“Of course.”
“We kind of…have been hooking up.
Harper’s jaw drops. “Girl. You didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
And that’s the part that gnaws at me.
“It’s not like we’re anythingserious.”
“You never had ‘the talk’?”
I shake my head.
“It’s not like I have the right to feel…whatever this is. Jealous? No, that’s too simple a term for what I’m feeling.” I stare at the condensation on my glass. “Maybe he’s just busy.”
“Maybe,” Harper says softly, watching me. “Or maybe something else is going on.”
She tries to lighten the mood.
“So! Cabo! Wedding week is almost here. And you—” she gestures to me — “look absolutely insane. Like, please. I’m mad at your body right now. You’re absolutely snatched.”
Despite everything, I laugh.
“I know. I actually fit into that old bikini again. The red one.”
“Shut. Up. That thing could stop traffic.”
“It almost did once,” I say, smiling.
Then the smile fades.
And Harper catches it instantly.
“Okay,” she says, turning serious. “What’s that?”
I toy with my napkin.
“I really wish I could bring a plus one to this wedding.”
Harper’s expression turns more examining, and interested.
She’s too perceptive.
“A plus one,” she echoes. “Would that plus one have a name, by chance? Maybe starts with C and ends in T?”
“Stop,” I mutter.
