Christina’s fingers slip frommine at the bottom of the staircase.
“I won’t be long,” she says.
“You don’t have to rush.”
She smiles at that, like she knows exactly how impossible that request is, then turns and disappears upstairs with the rest of the band. The door closes behind them, cutting off the brief spill of laughter that followed them up.
I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the door like it might open again.
It doesn’t.
“Phil!”
I turn.
Nick is halfway out of his chair at the back table, waving like I might otherwise miss five grown men occupying the largest piece of furniture in the room.
As if they’ve ever blended into anything.
I make my way over.
Chris slides a pint toward me before I’ve even sat down.
I nod at him. “Thanks.”
Nick leans back in his chair, studying me.
“You look nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not,” I repeat.
Rob leans forward, elbows on the table, grinning like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all week.
“He’s nervous,” he confirms.
Tommy sighs into his drink.
“Leave him alone.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Rob says innocently.
“You’re about to.”
Emma beams at me from beside Alex.
“I’m so excited,” she says. “She’s going to be brilliant.”
“She is,” I say.
Nick watches me over the rim of his glass.
“You’ve got that look.”
I frown. “What look?”