Page 48 of How to Write a Rom-Com

Elle squeals with excitement. “I am so happy for you, Lucy. So many good things are coming your way, I can feel it.”

“Is my aura visible through FaceTime?” I ask jokingly.

“Don’t mock me, but yes, it most definitely is.” She sticks her tongue out at me and flips her perfectly curled hair back over her head.

“Now shut up and help me pick an outfit for this stupid toddler party I’ve been invited to.”

*

When I step into Nora’s backyard, the sheer scale of the celebration stops me in my tacks. Dozens of pink and white balloons cascade along the fencing, while and a grand tent dominates the patio. Oh, and there’s a bouncy castle.

“Lucy!” I try to wipe the shocked look off my face when I see Nora coming toward me. She’s wearing a pink maxi dress with wedge heels that she can barely walk in. I suddenly feel underdressed in my jean shorts and floral tank top. But then again, this isn’t a freaking wedding. And someone should definitely tell Nora that.

“So glad you made it!” Nora says, throwing her arms around me. I’m caught off guard and momentarily just stand there with my hands limp at my sides. When my body finally gets the memo that, apparently, we’re doing the hugging acquaintances thing, I awkwardly pat her back.

“Happy to be here,” I say, relieved when she finally pulls away. “This is for Cammy,” I add, handing her the gift I managed to pick up yesterday.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to do that,” she says with a modest smile.

“Where is the little birthday girl?” I ask, scanning the crowd for her.

“She’s napping,” Nora smiles, shrugging.

“Oh,” I say with a small chuckle, thinking about Emma’s first birthday party onFriends. Elle would get the reference if she was here.

“Well, go get yourself something to eat. Liam’s made quite a spread,” Nora says, waving to greet another guest. My head perks up at the mention of Liam’s name. I turn my attention to the buffet table where I spot him. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t own anything besides jeans and T-shirts because the only other thing I’ve seen him in is his bathing suit. Not that either option looks bad on him, or that anything ever could.

“Hey you,” I say, walking up beside him. I resist the urge to place my hand on him, my mind flicking back to the way I felt with my legs wrapped around his waist. I’m not really sure how to approach things with him today. I’m going for casual; we definitely didn’t have a life-changing make-out session twenty-four hours ago vibe. I think it will go well.

“Hey,” he says, smiling. “This setup is crazy right?’ he asks, gesturing to our surroundings with tongs.

“Insane.” I raise my eyebrows. When I look around, I notice Liam’s other half is missing. “Where’s Blue?”

“He’s at home. I didn’t want him scaring any of the little kiddies,” he says, unpacking Tupperware from his many boxes.

“He is the complete opposite of scary,” I whine, disappointed that my furry friend won’t be here to keep me company.

“Yes, well, the soccer moms over there have a different opinion,” he says, nodding to the group of women on the patio.

“Rude,” I say bitterly. Our arms brush as Liam reaches for another bag, the contact makes me jump. I half expect him to bring up our unfinished conversation from the other day, but I’m relieved when he presents me a glass instead.

“It might not be your thing, but this sangria is a fan favorite,” he says, passing me the fruit-filled red liquid. “Try a sip.”

“Thanks.”

He tips his beer toward my glass. “Cheers,” he says, taking a long, slow sip. I follow his lead.

We stand awkwardly, staring at each other for a few moments in silence. The tension between us is palpable, electric. It’s almost unbearable.

“I have to head back out to the truck. Be right back,” Liam murmurs, placing his beer on the table.

I watch him walk away and giggle when I see him steal a kid’s hat. He whips it around his back and puts it on another kid’s head before laughing and running out of sight.

“Well, you could definitely do worse,” someone mumbles behind me. I turn and find May standing a few feet behind me with her arms crossed. She purses her wrinkled lips and nods her head toward Liam.

“Oh no, there’s nothing—” I start to say, but Jill turns around from her conversation with someone to poke her head next to May’s, following her gaze to Liam.

“Worse than what?” she asks.

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