Page 13 of You Had Me at Merlot

“Roommates?” the woman said, her eyes lighting up. She sidled up to Jamie. “You’ll have to tell me all of Laurel’s little faults around the house. Does she remember to turn the dishwasher on at the end of the evening?”

Jamie was pretty sure that Laurel was unaware how a dishwasher even worked, nor how to wash a dish by hand, but this was not the moment to be petty. “I’ll never tell,” Jamie said, to a laugh from Laurel.

Laurel leaned in toward her date. “I think we can arrange for you to find out all those details personally.” She squeezed her date around the waist, making her laugh in a high-pitched tone. “Now leave little Jamie alone.”

Little Jamie. Jamie nodded, absorbing the passive-aggressive slight. “We were together, though,” she said.

The sweetheart, who’d still not been introduced by name, raised an eyebrow.

“Not just roommates. Laurel’s my ex. We were together for two years.” Jamie had no idea why she needed to make that information known but did. Something about claiming her identity, her truth. She needed to be recognized as someone who had once mattered to Laurel, in the midst of the insults.

“Oh?” the woman said. “That’s very cool. So glad you’re friends now. Très mature of you both.”

“Isn’t it great?” Laurel said, placing a hand on her hip and narrowing her gaze. “We were just too different to make it work. Jamie’s a barista in Chelsea.”

She was also a successful small-business owner who’d won awards and garnered major television and print attention for her bar. However, Jamie didn’t correct the statement because barista was also a great gig. She was every bit as proud of interacting with her customers and making drinks as her other accomplishments. The part that botheredher was Laurel didn’t seem to think so. “That’s true. If you’re ever near Sixteenth Street, swing in for a drink and bag of hot doughnuts. I’ll make them myself.”

“Oh. So kind. We don’t go downtown much.” Laurel added a wince. “It’s just become so…well,you know.”

“Got it. No downtown.” And that would be all she planned on listening to. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to…” She gestured absently across the room to a woman taking in the view from the gorgeous windows. She made a beeline for her, and at the last minute eased her progress, imagining Laurel and her date had shifted their focus. The skyline in its clarity snagged her attention, however.

“Sparkling rosé?” a server asked, offering a selection from her tray. Both Jamie and the woman at the window turned.

“I don’t think I can say no,” Jamie said, selecting a long-stemmed glass from the group. After that interaction, she deserved a pink treat.

The woman also reached. “Don’t mind if I do, too. Cheers.”

She raised her glass to the woman’s, remembered her manners, and met her gaze on the clink.Hold up. Her brain stuttered and started again. Her stomach went tight and fluttery. “It’s you. Oh my God. You’re Bambi’s Mother.”

The woman blinked. “I’m not. But I do know you. Trying to place where.” She wore a beautiful red dress that fell to midthigh, making her look like a celebrity. Her hair was gently curled and pinned. She was breathtaking. Jamie’s heart thudded in happy discovery.

Her actual name hit. “Leighton. You’re Leighton. And I’m Jamie.”

The most beautiful smile blossomed on Leighton’s face. “Yes! You’re Jamie from Bordeauxnuts. Hi.” She blinked several times as if trying to orient herself to Jamie in the wild. “Wow. You look…stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“That dress.”

She looked down, warmed. “It’s new.” A pause as they stared at each other happily. “Probably like running into your teacher at the movie theater.”

“No. I’m just used to you in—”

“A T-shirt and apron rather than a cocktail dress and heels?”

Leighton opened her mouth and closed it. “When I said stunning, I meant it.”

“Oh.” A pause. Jamie twirled her hair in an exaggerated fashion. “Sweet of you.”

Leighton laughed, which was a fantastic sound. Quiet and melodic. “Not that you’re not equally stunning in cotton.”

“Bless you.” She looked around. “What are you doing here?”

“Why did you think I was Bambi’s mother? I don’t have children.”

They’d asked their questions at the same time and smiled to acknowledge the overlap. “I’ll go first,” Leighton said. “Jeremy is one of the first friends I made when I moved to the city years ago. We were neighbors who grabbed dinner a few times.”

“It seems our friends are getting engaged.”

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