I head for the door, pausing, before I exit.
“Tell her that my wife and I are RSVP’ing for Sunday dinner.”
9
BABUSHKA KNOWS BEST
HARPER
Two days later, it’s Sunday evening, and I'm standing outside a building in Brighton Beach, clutching a bottle of wine I panic-bought at a bodega three blocks away, wondering how in God’s name I ended up here.
Here being in front of a luxury fortress disguised as a prewar residence.
But to be honest? I know exactly how.
It's been two days since the Coffee Incident.
Two days since I dumped an entire cup of muddy brown onto Victor Kade's expensive suit. Two days since he looked at me with those steel-gray eyes and I could have sworn—absolutely sworn—that he was thinking about kissing me.
And I've spent the last forty-eight hours trying to convince myself I imagined it. That the look in his eyes was just irritation about his ruined suit. That the way his thumb pressed against my hip bone was just reflexive steadying, nothing more.
That I'm reading into things because I’m thirty-seven, recently divorced, and my life is a disaster held together with expired cooking wine and denial.
But my body won't believe it.
So, I’ve decided to make my mind at least behave.
Which is why I arrive thirteen minutes earlier than I’m supposed to be at his grandmother’s for dinner.
Doesn’t help that the evening weather is something out of a romance novel.
October in Brooklyn has that perfect autumnal quality, the air smelling of woodsmoke and ocean spray, the streetlights just starting to flicker on, as the last golden light fades into what is quickly becoming a beautiful night—a night that may be on the cusp of spiraling as my phone buzzes and I check it with my free hand.
AMELIA: Are you there yet???
AMELIA: Have you met the grandmother???
AMELIA: Is she scary or sweet or scary-sweet????
AMELIA: Declan says to tell you "good luck" but he said it in that ominous way like you're going into battle
MARGOT: Harper. Breathe. You're going to be fine.
MARGOT: Also if Victor is weird, text me and I'll call with a fake emergency.
MARGOT: I have three prepared: food poisoning, flooded apartment, and "Amelia got arrested for public yarn bombing."
AMELIA: HEY that was ONE TIME and it was ART
I'm typing a response when another notification pops up. Email this time.
FROM: Vanessa Chu - FoodFirst Network
SUBJECT: Following Up - Meeting Request
Harper,
Hope you're doing well! Saw the news about your Vegas wedding (congrats?? lol). Listen, our offer still stands. I know StreamEats is your new home, but if you're interested in discussing creative control and a bigger platform, I'd love to set up a meeting in a few weeks. We're building something special here, and you'd be perfect for it.
