“Casual,” Harper said, making a list. “We’ll just… be ourselves. Hold hands maybe. See if anyone notices.”
“Harper, darling, Alexander notices when I get a haircut from a different barber. He’s going to notice.”
“Good point. Maybe we ease into it?”
They spent an embarrassing amount of time planning their reveal strategy, like a military operation conducted entirely through text messages and Post-it notes.
The night of the dinner, Harper changed clothes three times.
“It’s just dinner with our friends,” Sebastian said, watching her debate between two nearly identical navy dresses.
“Our friends who think we still cordially despise each other.”
“Do we not?”
She threw a pillow at him.
By seven-thirty, the flat was filled with familiar voices and the scent of the takeaway Sebastian had ordered from three different restaurants (“I’m hedging my bets”).
Alexander and Emilia arrived first, Alexander carrying wine and Emilia carrying what appeared to be homemade cookies.
“I still stress-bake,” she explained to Harper. “It drives the palace kitchenscrazy but I’m the queen, who’s going to stop me?”
Jules came with champagne and gossip about a mutual acquaintance’s spectacular divorce. Ethan arrived precisely on time with flowers and complaints about traffic.
They settled into easy conversation, the same comfortable dynamic they’d developed over months of group dinners and wedding planning. Except now Harper was hyperaware of every casual touch. The way Sebastian’s hand was on her shoulder as he poured wine, her fingers brushing his when she passed him a plate.
“So,” Harper said during a lull in conversation, her hand finding Sebastian’s on the table. “We have something to tell you.”
The room went quiet.
Sebastian squeezed her fingers. “Harper and I are—”
“Finally admitting you’re together?” Jules interrupted, wine glass raised. “Thank god. The pretense was getting exhausting.”
Harper blinked. “What?”
Ethan pulled out his phone. “We literally have a group chat called ‘Harper and Sebastian Are Obviously Dating.’ Want to see the texts?”
“You have what now?” Sebastian demanded.
Alexander was grinning. “It’s been obvious for a while. Months, really”
“Months?” Harper’s voice climbed an octave.
Emilia counted on her fingers. “Let’s see. There was the wedding, when you two kept sneaking glances at each other during the reception. Then the way Sebastian talked about you when you weren’t around—”
“How did I talk about her?”
“Like she’d invented fire,” Alexander said dryly.
Jules leaned forward, clearly enjoying herself. “And Harper, darling, you started wearing colours. Actual colours. I knew something was up when you showed up to lunch in that blue dress.”
“What’s wrong with blue?” Harper protested.
“Nothing. But you’d worn black to every social event before that. Then suddenly you’re in blue and you’re… glowing.”
“I was not glowing.”