Page 134 of Fumbled Into Love

Fuck, I love her. I love her perpetual kindness and bravery to stand up for others. I admire that she continues to extend an olive branch to Gia. It’s not for her sake, it’s for Declan’s, who watches the interaction with trepidation.

“It was at Dolce Vita,” she says and Nathalie’s lips curl into a true smile. That was where our first fake date was before she dragged me to a taco stand.

“Oh. Deon and I have been there. What did you think of the food?” Nathalie beams in Declan’s direction and I glance at Jack and Henry who watch the interaction like a car crash. Sawyerchews on her straw and Maren’s arms are folded with a scowl on her face.

“The salad was bland.” Gia’s eyes flicker to Declan. “But the red wine was nice.”

“The three hundred dollar wine?” is the question that tumbles out of Nathalie’s mouth.

Gia nods, but the conversation is cut off when people begin walking around to pass out betting paddles. Each of us grabs one and Nathalie begins to bounce in her seat.

“I’m going to bet on things to raise the price.”

Her smile is adorable as she twirls her paddle.

“You don’t want to win anything?”

“Well, sure. I want to win the tickets to go to the premiere of that new rom-com movie but I can’t afford that.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I say.

“Really?” She looks shocked.

“Yes.” I drag my thumb across her lips and the world fades away. “Consider it a thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me believe again,” I say and her brows furrow in the cutest confusion.

“Believe in what?”

My heart is thumping in my ears when I respond. “Happy endings.”

She gasps, eyes searching my face, but the auctioneer begins rattling off numbers and items and hands begin to rise. Nathalie’s focused on the betting and I sneak away to peruse the silent auction items. I’ve been waiting until the last minute to see what Nathalie bet on so that I can write my name down asthe last bet.

I chuckle as I notice some of the items she put her name under. Round of golf with a professional golf coach. Two tickets to an ice hockey game. A high-tech grill and smoker. Knowing she wrote her name on those to raise the bet, I skip them.

Her name is below the set of expensive pots and pans and the trip to Paris twice and I scribble down my name and an outrageous number in hopes no one will out bet me in the next fifteen minutes.

Once I’m satisfied, I return to the table where Nathalie is cackling, head tilted backward. A familiar warmth settles beneath my diaphragm.

Love.

“What’s so funny?”

“Maren outbid Savannah on an expensive piece of jewelry.” I scan the room to find Savannah, who sits at her table with a sour look.

“And out of spite, that lovely necklace will collect dust in the back of a drawer.” Maren takes a sip of her drink, a smug smile pulling at her lips.

Our eyes connect and she winks. I do not deserve the friends I have.

The auctioneer announces four tickets to a sold-out concert and Sawyer squeals.

“I’m going to win this!” Her hand flies into the air, time and time again, and the number begins to creep into the five-figure range.

Why would anyone pay that much for concert tickets?

It’s only when I notice that Savannah still has her paddle up that I realize that they planned this. No one cares what they win, only that Savannah loses.

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