Page 106 of Hopelessly Wild


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“Even the dried flower arrangement on the wall with ribbons and balloons looks every bit as masculine as it does feminine and perfect for your dad,” Yasmine says as she continues to peruse the room.

My father’s hearty laughter breaks through our conversation, even from the far corner of the restaurant where he stands in a circle with his mates. “It’s going to be a big night for him. I don’t think Mum will see much of him after tonight.” I tell my friends about his plans for a celebratory week with his mates. “More than likely, it will take another week for him to recover, and I don’t think we’ll see much of him in the office. He’ll probably work from home,” I joke since the office building is part of our home. “Walking three levels of stairs might be a bit much for him.”

“Why is Ethan with them?” Amy asks. “Surely, he’s not staying with the men the entire week?”

I shake my head. Ethan’s youth stands out among them yet equally distinguished with his dark hair slicked back and Gatsby-like. “I really don’t know.”

“Has he hit on you yet?” Amy’s brows pull tight as though she expects me to admit to it.

“No. He’s been supportive while I’m working. He takes Rose for strolls in the stroller and holds her as he reads through emails while I’m caught up in meetings with Dana.”

Amy makes a humph sound. “I still don’t trust him.”

“He’s trying… we’re friends. That’s all.”

“Are you defending him?” she asks in a higher voice.

“I’m giving him a chance at being nice. Being supportive as a friend. And he hasn’t tried to get me between the sheets.”

“Anyway,” Yasmine says. “There’s a glass of champagne with my name on it.” She takes one from the tray as the server walks by.

We all do the same.

“Cheers,” we say in unison and clink the crystal.

“To forever friends,” Yasmine chimes.

We all turn and agree, watching my father belly laugh and almost spill his glass of beer.

Cleo’s dark spiral curls bounce as she rushes away, leaving Amy, Yasmine, and me alone.

“This is the first time since Rio that we’re dressed in ballgowns and drinking champagne.” Yasmine looks up to the starry lights dotting the ceiling, and the memory of the night I first spoke to Samuel has me smiling.

“Please take me back,” Amy says. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Over a year.” Yasmine makes a sad face.

“The white gown I wore to the ball at the Copacabana Palace Hotel will never be repeated until Rose is at school,” I say and run my finger over the navy material of my long, snug-fitting dress. I wouldn’t be wearing a strapless dress a month ago with the feeding bra limiting my daily attire. Unfortunately, my breast milk didn’t last, and Rose has settled on baby formula. I’m not sure what I’d have done if we were in the jungle. Eight weeks old and no breast milk… would other mothers feed her? Filled with guilt, I wondered what Samuel would say, yet I blamed it on the stress of worrying constantly about him. At least tonight, I can have a few drinks and not wear a bra.

“Hi, ladies.” Ava, Cleo’s friend and part-owner of Lombardi’s, joins our group. Her long brown hair is swept off her face and pinned in curls around her crown. A long black gown hugs her petite figure.

“Hi,” we all say in unison.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you,” I say and smile.

“Right. I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you,” I say proudly.

“Jardine and I are trying for another baby, though I’m not keen for those sleepless nights again.”

I laugh. “Yeah, some nights are tougher than others.” I admire Ava as she is two years younger than us, and running a business with children must be tough. And her husband is a famous cricket player.

“How is Jardine?” I ask. Cleo supported Ava through their messy breakup after she had their first child, and now that she has her happily ever after, it gives me some hope.

“Good. He’s in Sydney playing in the World Cup finals.”

“So, he’s away a lot?”

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