Page 111 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“We’ve thanked her enough, Jazz, let’s let the woman close up for the night. She deserves it.”

“She does,” Jasmine agrees, letting go once again. “And a glass of wine.”

“You can count on it,” I say with a forced laugh. A moment later, they walk away, though not without waving. I wave back and close the door. Then I lock it, pull the blinds, and let out the world’s most persecuted sigh.

My job is rewarding.

It’s fulfilling and amazing and never ceases to challenge, surprise, and delight me. And yet…

My job is utterly exhausting.

As I close up shop for the evening, thanking God I have no clients tomorrow and don’t plan on checking any emails or voicemails, or any other kinds of mail for that matter, I tell myself I need to decompress. I stand over the diffuser for a hot minute, inhaling the lavender oil at a possibly toxic amount and not giving a flying Fig Newton. Because after the week I’ve had, I need a break. A release. I need?—

Ding.

My phone buzzes with the sound of a text. A text from Allegra. Right now, she is the only person I will take any communication from, and I swipe the stream open.

Allegra: I just had a session from hell. Wine?

I almost start crying as I vigilantly text her back.

Quinn: Yes, ma'am. Where?

Allegra: Velvet Coupe?

Quinn: I’ll be there in 10.

With that, I yank the diffuser cord, kill the lights, and grab my things. I am not usually one to run to a bottle when things get hard. But the way I see it, I’m not running to a bottle. I’m running to Allegra, my friend who is also having a shitty week apparently. We are running towards each other. A support system. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I walk into Velvet Coupe and bypass the hostess stand. I know Allegra is already here because I saw her car out front. A Kia Telluride with a car seat in the back and a vanilla Yankee Candle air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

I make my way through the place, past multiple tables of people eating small-plate appetizers and sipping on wine. I am smiling, a real smile, for the first time in I don’t know how long. Because I need this. I need to eat bougie little crostinis and maybe a dessert, and I need a big tall glass of Chardonnay. I need to order the bottle, not just one glass, because I want to fill it past halfway. I’m no Italian, but I do know that they know how to pour wine, and you can bet your ass it’s more than halfway.

I round a corner and see Allegra. I’d know her gorgeous brown hair anywhere. My smile widens as she waves, and I raise myhand to wave back. But then…I stop. She’s not alone. Not only that, but I know the people she is with.

It’s the Overholt’s.

Ugh.

I know that shouldn’t be my reaction, but working in the psych field (because if you think about it, that’s what I do) requires the need for switching hats. And right now, I don’t have my We Still Do hat on. I have my get drunk and talk trash with my friend hat on. Allegra waves me over to the table again because apparently I’ve stopped dead in the middle of the aisle, blocking a waiter with a tray of glasses and a woman trying to get to the bathroom.

“Michael. Ashley. Imagine seeing you here…” I say with the best smile I can manage.

“Actually, Allegra invited us,” Ashley says, and my smile falters. Actually, it nearly falls off my face.

“She did?” I ask, turning to Allegra. Then, with my eyes wide and my voice coming through my teeth, I repeat myself. “You did?”

“I did,” she says, and I shoot her a look to kill.

“It was our idea,” Ashley says, taking a seat and motioning for me to do the same. There’s already multiple appetizers on the table as well as two bottles of wine.

“Really,” I say, sitting down next to Allegra.

“Well, it was partially mine,” Allegra says, and I casually kick her under the table. Because I very much did not think this was a work call. And guessing by her smile and her refusal to make eye contact, she knows how upset I am about it. And yet…here we are.

“We wanted to thank you,” Ashley says.

“We already talked to August,” Michael adds, sitting down last and digging into the food. And we are really doing this. We are really having a meal like old friends and–