Page 113 of The Perfect Mistake

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” he says, but his frown remains intact. I can almost hear what he’s thinking, and the instinct to reach out and grab his hand is strong.

She just wants you to return to the world of the living, I want to say. To talk to people and actually enjoy yourself.

But I don’t. Connie sweeps me away instead, away from her tall and silent big brother. She introduces me to a group of her friends, all dressed in finery with drinks in their hands. I recognize a few as those from her college days, but most are new, friends of Gabriel. Connie tells everyone I’m one of her best friends.

It makes me feel nice, what she’s trying to do.

We grab a refill from the bar after a particularly long conversation with one of the groups.

“Okay,” I whisper to her, “this merging of friends project seems to be going well.”

Her eyes sparkle. “You think?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. Gabriel always used to host these poker nights, and I thought we’d continue the tradition together.”

“Just elevate it a bit?” I nod toward the kitchen. “An ice sculpture?”

“Okay, that was my idea,” she admits. “I wanted a bit of decadence.”

That makes me smile. Connie would never half-ass something. I’m not sure she knows how. “Well, there’s plenty of it here. But this is a great idea. People look like they’re getting along.”

“They do, don’t they? I figured, our families will never be comfortable being in the same room… so we better ensure at least all of our friends are.”

I put a hand on her shoulder and make my voice mock-serious. “Just so you’re aware, I hold no institutional grudges against Gabriel or his friends.”

She laughs. “I know you don’t. You’re my most uncomplicated friend, and I love you for it.”

“Only for that?”

“No, you’re also my yoga accountability partner.”

“Right, right.” I clink my glass to hers and ignore the pang of guilt in my stomach. My most uncomplicated friend.

If only.

I lean against the kitchen counter and look out at the party. Her husband Gabriel is sitting at one of the poker tables. He’s grinning, holding a couple of cards close to his chest.

“Gabriel is playing?”

“Yup. We made a bet tonight, and he’s very motivated to win.”

“A bet?”

“Yes.” She smiles at me and shrugs a little, and I realize what she means.

“Oh. A bet.”

“Yeah, exactly. I won’t be too unhappy if he wins, either, let’s just put it that way.”

I nudge her shoulder with mine. “I’m not saying I’m jealous, but I’m also not not saying it.”

“I know what you mean. But you have more free time now, right? To date? Compared to when you were at the ballet company.”

“Yeah, some. But I don’t even know where to start. The dating apps feel kind of depressing.”

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