In a New York Minute(91)

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“Wow, Franny, you got yourself real diamonds?” Lola cooed, an inch from my face, reaching up to touch the tiny stud dotting my earlobe. We were standing in my apartment, toasting my return to the city. I was still on a tight budget, but to commemorate this shift I’d started feeling in myself, this next step forward, I’d allowed myself one tiny splurge.

“I just wanted to do something to celebrate,” I said, swatting at her. “They weren’t that much. It was either this or get bangs.”

“Oh, you definitely made the right choice,” she said, leaning in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too,” I said. Last week, I’d been written about on Town & Country’s website, with a slideshow about my work designing an art-focused playroom for a summer home in Sag Harbor. The house belonged to the niece of Duffy, one of the women I’d met at the gala thanks to Cleo’s mom. And next week, I had my first meeting with Serena about redecorating her entire apartment, which she seemed very excited to go over budget on. When I saw the small diamond earrings at Catbird, a jewelry boutique I loved in Williamsburg, after brunch last weekend, it had felt like a sign. A splurge I not only wanted but could afford. Something just for me.

“Wait, hold still—you have, like, the smallest bit of mascara under your eye.” Lola was studying my face with the seriousness of a forensic investigator. “Oh, no, it’s just an eyelash.”

She pressed a finger against the soft skin under my eye and pulled away with the eyelash stuck to the top of her index finger.

“Make a wish,” she said, holding her hand directly in front of my mouth. I paused for a moment, considering my options. Franny Doyle Design was starting to truly take shape. Lola was engaged. And Anna and I had been video-chatting weekly, learning more about each other and our parallel lives. We’d even been swapping career advice, sharing work tips and client horror stories. Everything was in its correct place

Well, almost everything. I inhaled and huffed out a breath. For the last few weeks, I’d written emails to Hayes that I never sent, started and deleted text messages, and role-played with my girlfriends about how to best apologize to him. But nothing had ever felt exactly right. And every time I felt brave enough to hit SEND, I panicked or second-guessed myself—and my words. But tonight we were going to be in the same room together, and I couldn’t push it off any longer. I promised myself that when I got the chance, I would tell Hayes exactly what I felt: I’d screwed up. I was sorry. And I’d give anything to try it all again.

It didn’t mean I wasn’t still scared. I knew now that I’d always experience doubt and fear, that I’d second-guess myself again. But I was also Franny Doyle. I was, as Hayes once told me, a woman who didn’t take shit from anyone, and that included myself.

Cleo emerged from the bathroom, makeup perfected. I clapped in approval. She responded with a short bow. “Should we pop open the champagne before we leave?”

Lola scurried to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of Dom Pérignon, an engagement gift from her boss.

She passed the bottle over to Cleo, the champagne-opening expert in the group. We shrieked as the cork popped, laughing at ourselves as Cleo filled our wineglasses with bubbly. Eventually we’d all own champagne flutes. But not today.

Cleo kicked things off. “A toast, to the last person any of us thought would get married first.”

“Hey!” Lola protested as Cleo gave her a knowing look. “I mean, no one is more surprised than me,” she conceded with a grin.

“We are so happy for you, Lo,” Cleo continued, her voice now serious.

“We are, and we love you more than anything in the whole world,” I said. “To Lola, and love.”

“And to friendship,” Lola added, lifting her glass. “To us.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hayes



Lola and Perrine had rented out the entire floor of Adelphi and Willoughby, a buzzed-about new restaurant in Brooklyn. Walking in, I made my way to the bar—all white marble lit up with votives—and asked for a double scotch on the rocks, something to calm my nerves.

When Perrine and Lola had asked me to give a toast at their engagement party, I had said yes immediately. It had taken three different drafts and some coaching from Eleanor, but I’d finally landed on something that felt personal. I just hoped I’d be able to get the words out of my mouth in front of all these people.

In front of Franny.

I tried to push the thought of her out of my mind as I walked toward the crowded room, even though I was checking out every face I passed to see if it was her. Not that I didn’t like thinking about her. I visited her in my mind almost every night, remembered how just the touch of her body had made me ache with need, her soft skin against my hands as they tried to touch every inch of her. I imagined what it would be like to go to sleep next to her on a regular old work night, to wake up with her the next day, going about our mundane morning routines, together.

But tonight was about Perrine and Lola, and their love. It was time to put on my game face. So I grabbed some sparkling water from a passed tray of drinks and brought it over to where Eleanor and Henry were chatting with some of Perrine’s doctor friends.

“Hey,” I said as they opened up their circle to include me. “I got this for you in case you were thirsty.”