“That’s amazing. I’m sorry it’s on the same date but, hey, you’ll probably be having more fun than if you were sitting through my dad’s speech,” Francesca says, rolling her eyes. “He’s not the best at public speaking. He has a habit of rambling.”
“Sorry,” Daniel says, his forehead furrowed. “I’m confused.”
“What’s confusing you?” I ask, pretending not to notice Francesca giving him a sharp nudge in the ribs with her elbow. He, too, pretends not to notice.
“You don’t go skydiving.” He snorts.
“It doesn’t have to be a hobby.” I laugh, a little taken aback by his accusatory tone. “I thought I’d give it a try.”
“For charity or something?”
“No. For me.”
He blinks at me.
“We’d better get to this birthday party,” Francesca jumps in, smiling apologetically. “We’re already late. But it was really nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I reply sincerely. “Bye, Daniel.”
“Right, yeah,” Daniel says, puzzled. “Better go.”
“Byeeee,” Cara says, wiggling her fingers at them.
Francesca leads Daniel away toward the stairs, and when they disappear from sight, I feel like I can finally breathe again.
Cara waits a few moments before speaking. “You OK?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” I reach forward and pick up my glass, downing what’s left. “Francesca seems nice. I like her.”
“Yeah. Yet again, he’s punching. He’s also an arsehole to ask you why you weren’t going to the wedding. Strange of him to invite you in the first place, but even stranger to bump into youand grill you about the RSVP.” She takes a deep breath. “Can I say something?”
“Of course.”
“What you were saying earlier,” she says, glancing back at the stairs, “about you being comfortable in someone’s shadow, rather than in the spotlight? Wasn’t that always how it was with Daniel?”
“What do you mean?”
“He has to be the center of attention, doesn’t he? And when you were together, you were always standing behind him.”
“Was I?”
“Yes. Yes, you were,” she says pensively, like a great sleuth. “He never let you into the spotlight. He kept it all for himself.” She leans back in her seat, watching me. “And look at you now.”
“Single and drinking too much with my cousin?”
“Communicating with swans and throwing yourself out of a plane instead of going to his wedding.”
“I haven’t actually booked to go skydiving,” I admit. “It was a silly idea I had.”
“Maybe itwasjust an idea, but now I think you’ll do it,” she says matter-of-factly. “I can feel it.”
I smile at her. “Maybe.”
“I hate to say it, but this Miranda Priestly bride of yours isn’t a complete idiot. She may have gone about it in a weird way,” she says, taking a sip of wine, “but she pushed you right into your spotlight, whether you wanted it or not.”
Please leave a voicemail after the tone.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
