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“Nick,” Mulberry mumbled as the waiter set fresh drinks in front of them.
“Does he have a last name? How long have you been dating?”
“Since I came back here for the thing with the fashion company.”
“Nine months?” Emma shot out of her seat, and her raised voice caused people in the restaurant to turn and look at them.
“Emma!” Mulberry pulled her friend back into her seat.
“Sorry. But how could you keep this quiet?”
“Like I said, I wanted to wait until I felt sure. Plus, we hadn’t really been talking, not as much. I don’t know. I felt like maybe you wouldn’t want to know.”
“Mulberry, I’m sorry,” Emma slung an arm across her shoulder. “I should have stayed in touch better. But you were so….”
“Messed-up?”
“Depressed. I thought maybe you didn’t want me around. I was trying to take my cues from you. Some psychologist I’m going to make.”
Mulberry sighed. She hated lying to her friend and using what happened to her to season the lie, but she couldn’t get out of it.
“No, I could have called too.”
Emma waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Where is Nick?”
“I was going to text him after I told you,” Mulberry said.
“You’re leaving this guy waiting? Text him already!”
Mulberry giggled as Emma peered at her screen.
Time to join us for dinner, she texted. Mulberry flipped her phone face down on the table, wishing this whole thing was over.
“Does he like to party?”
“Ha! No, he’s kind of old and nerdy.”
“Whose old and nerdy, love?” Nick’s breath brushed across her neck as he slid into the chair beside her. “Nick Laurent. You must be Emma Piece.”
She wished the floor would open her up and swallow her.
With his curly mop of hair slicked back, and his contacts in, he looked like a model in a well-cut-grey pair of pants, with a matching blazer and a barely-there checkered shirt.
Nick cleaned up really well.
“I am! Nice to meet you, finally! I can’t believe you guys have been keeping it a secret!” Emma grinned. “What did Mulberry say about me?”
“All good,” Nick said. “Have you two ordered?”
“No, we waited for you,” Mulberry stammered.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Should I order your favourite then?”
“Yes, fine.” Mulberry’s cheeks were burning hot.
Nick ran a finger down the menu, and the waiter approached.
“Does everyone know what they want?” Her eyes widened as Nick looked up, but she didn’t say anything. This was the kind of place that celebrities ate at. Mulberry was glad no one had asked for a selfie yet.
