The Speed of Light: A Novel(21)

But Claudia elbows Nikki, shooting her another look. “We came here for lunch last week, remember? It was nice.” She turns to me with a glowing smile. “Have so much fun, and tell us everything.”

She turns to Nikki again, who offers a weak smile. “It was nice. And I know you’ll have a great time.”

I reach forward and squeeze her arm. “Thank you. Both of you.”

My door is open and I’m climbing out of the back seat when Nikki clears her throat. “And remember, just text if you need a ride, okay?”

I nod, confident now as I shut the car door and stride toward O’Malley’s, shoulders back, my perfectly curled head high. But the moment I open the thick wooden door and step into the loud, packed bar, my confidence shrivels like a popped balloon after a birthday party.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that no matter how hot you think you look before going out, you will get knocked down a peg upon arrival.

A sea of sparkly dresses surrounds me—not too different from my own, except they hug bodies much more toned than mine, their owners fitter, cuter, healthier. I fluff my hair and self-consciously suck in my gut, praying my Spanx hold out, as I scan the crowd for a familiar face.

Self-doubt floods back in. It’s stuffy in this dimly lit pub, but I refuse to take off my coat and expose my inadequacies.

What the hell am I doing here?

You deserve this.

Do you really, though? The mean voice in my head drowns out Nikki’s reassurance.

Then, a hand on my back. I stiffen in surprise, but it’s gentle, steadying, and I look up into Connor’s smile. “Sorry, it’s so loud I couldn’t get your attention.” He points back the way he came from. “We’re this way.” He takes my hand, guiding me through the throng of people talking and dancing, and I don’t even freak out about it—I savor how his hand feels in mine, warm and natural, like it’s always been there. He shoulders past a drunk guy telling a loud, slurred story, and I stick close behind him—it’s not easy being a short person crossing a crowded room, staring at backs and breathing recycled air.

At last, we emerge into a small opening next to a high wooden table with two open chairs. Connor gestures toward one, and as I sit down, he leans in close again. “You look beautiful.”

My body floods with warmth and my confidence returns. I even slip out of my coat as I look around the table. A stocky man with a buzz cut and a thin woman with long, white-blonde hair are leaning together, talking. Connor sits in the other open chair and raises his voice over the music. “Simone, this is Harper and Jason. Guys, this is Simone.”

“Ah, it’s the damsel in distress.” Jason laughs. “Did you get your car fixed?”

Harper elbows him, which gives me hope, but then her hawkish eyes dart to my low-cut dress in silent assessment. I turn the color of her modest rose-red turtleneck, and I fight the urge to pull my coat back on. “Nice to meet you,” I mumble.

“So,” Connor says to them, “what were you two talking about before? You were sick or something?” Harper starts to reply, but I have trouble listening at first—I’m too busy focusing on the fact that Connor’s hand brushed my bare shoulder as he draped his arm across the back of my chair.

“Ugh,” Harper moans. “This winter has been so bad—one sinus infection after another, and they really knock me out.” She turns pained eyes from Jason to Connor. “You can’t understand how hard that is.”

Jason pats his wife’s shoulder in comfort, and I stiffen.

But I keep the smile plastered on my face, and Jason turns his attention back to us.

“My turn to get this round.” He stands, pointing to Connor, eyebrows raised.

Connor shakes his head. “Nah, I’m driving.”

Jason turns to me. “Simone, what’ll ya have?”

“Do they have good wine here?”

Harper’s face lights up at last. “They do! Red or white?”

“Red.”

“Try the house cab,” she says sagely. “Surprisingly good for the price.”

I flash a tentative smile. “Sounds great.”

“Babe, another chardonnay?”

“Just one more,” she warns. “We told my mom we wouldn’t be out too late.”

His shoulders slump, and he shuffles toward the bar.

“It’s like he forgets we’re parents, for Christ’s sake,” Harper mutters.

Connor chuckles, and I sit up straighter, clear my throat. “How old?”

She leans forward, lighting up in true mommy fashion at the chance to gush. “She’s two.” She holds up her phone. “Angelina.”

I smile, swallowing a pang of guilt at my internal judgment as I gaze at the doe-eyed toddler on the screen. “She’s beautiful.”

Harper’s eyes shine with pride, and when Jason returns with drinks, we raise our glasses for a toast.

“To a new year, and a new beginning.” Harper smiles at me, and I blush as we clink our glasses together.

The silence that follows our inaugural sips is awkward—or maybe it’s me. Either way, I feel the need to fill it. “So, uh, you know how Connor and I met.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “How do you all know each other?”

“Connor and I played football together in college.” Jason puffs out his chest.