She then holds up my crochet hook like a tiny weapon. “Also, Harper. If you try to evade this conversation, I will poke you.”
“Violence,” Margot mutters. “Always her first instinct.”
“Excuse you. It’s called proactive sistering.”
Margot points her pen at me. “Harper. Start talking.”
I take a deep breath.
“It was the tequila,” I begin.
“Obviously,” Amelia says immediately.
“And like we talked about before, we kept running into each other. On the plane. At the club?—”
“The one from my bachelorette party,” Amelia cuts in, practically glowing. “The one I picked because it had a fog machine and a disco ball the size of a Prius.”
“Yes,” I say, deadpan. “That club.”
Amelia presses a hand to her chest. “I did that.”
“It’s not your fault?—”
“It’s totally my fault. I’m like a romantic fairy godmother. I waved my wand of bad decisions and POOF—Harper marries a billionaire.”
Margot lifts her wine glass. “Amelia, if you claim responsibility for this, I’m going to start charging you for therapy.”
Amelia gasps. “As the bride-to-be, I am immune from consequences.”
Margot’s gaze slides to her. “Declan should run.”
Amelia beams. “He can’t. He proposed.”
I rub my temples. “Can I please continue my humiliation?”
Margot nods once. “Proceed.”
“When you guys left the bar, we—“ I exhale, my memory scraping over that night. “I don’t know—we just wanted to stay. Talk.”
Amelia makes a tiny squeal and immediately shoves it down her throat. “Sorry. Sorry. Continue.”
“Like I said, we just talked. A lot.”
Margot’s eyes narrow.
“And he was actually interesting to talk to,” I add carefully, because the words still feel impossible. “It was?—”
“Sexy?” Margot offers.
“No.” Of course I mean yes. “He was kinda…nice. Which is horrifying, because I have only ever experienced him as a very expensive ice sculpture since then.”
Amelia leans forward. “Did you kiss?”
“Amelia,” Margot snaps.
“What? It’s a relevant question. Also I’m getting married in two months, so I’m basically a romance expert now.” Amelia turns to me with bright, relentless focus. “Did. You. Kiss?”
I bury my face in my hands because of course this is the part my memory kept.
