Chapter 35

Amelia

A little over a week later, I'm feeling secure in the fact that even after my move, Kent and I are getting along well. Work has also slowed down, so I don't even feel guilty about getting together with my besties on a work night. My appletini glass sweats in my hand, condensation beading like miniature pearls against the emerald liquid. I take a sip, relishing the sweet tang.

Isla eyes the drink with playful disdain. "An appletini, really? What is this, two thousand one?" Her wine-red lips curve into a smirk.

I shrug, unfazed by her ribbing. "I like them." I swirl the drink to punctuate my point. "Fashionable or not."

Stella chuckles from across the table. "So how are you and Kent managing now that you're playing house?"

"We're doing great, though I'm not sure I would call it playing house. That's a little much."

"What are his lady friends saying?"

The corners of my mouth curl up. "They've disbanded, and I think friends might be too strong a word. Turns out all but one of them was just waiting for him to pick her to be with."

Isla shakes her head. "We always knew they were up to something. Poor Kent—I guess. He probably should have seen that coming."

I shrug. I'm still not sure what to think about all that. I'm just glad it's no longer a constant text thread. "I'm glad he salvaged one real friendship. That had to hurt."

Stella clears her throat. "Back to the matter at hand. You and Kent are now spending every night together. How is that going?"

I pause, deliberating how best to answer. "It's good, though also different—quiet when he works nights," I admit. "But we're getting a puppy—a Maltese, and we named him Falcon. He'll be company when Kent's away."

"Wow, a dog together. That's serious commitment!" Stella's eyes dance. "Next thing you know, it's going to be wedding bells and little feet."

A nervous laugh escapes me as I shake my head. "Oh no, we're not there yet." The thought sends a rush of butterflies through my chest. "Besides, there's the matter of passing muster with the baroness," I add, the title for Kent's formidable mother bringing a collective nod from my friends.

"Ah, the baroness," Stella murmurs. "Sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale."

"Or a horror story," Isla adds with a wink.

"Well, there's no backing out now. Our flight leaves way too early tomorrow. But it should be okay," I assure them. Kent has been coaching me on what to expect when we go to visit.

I'm in the midst of relaying this to them when Kent himself appears. My heart warms at the sight of him, and the conversation trails off as he strides over. His hair is wet, a telltale sign that it was a rough-enough shift in the ED that he had to shower before leaving.

"Hey, babe," he greets me, bending down to kiss the top of my head. His scent—a mix of antiseptic hand wash and his cologne—comforts me.

"Got any good stories today?" Isla asks, clearly expecting one of Kent's outrageous ED tales.

"Let's see," he begins, his voice tinged with weariness. "I had the usual assortment—broken bones, ear infections, and a particularly memorable case of severe gas that the patient was convinced was a heart attack."

"Ugh, spare us the details," Stella interjects, holding up her hands defensively.

"Trust me, I am. You don't want to know about the bodily fluids I encounter every time I work." Kent laughs, but his eyes still look tired.

"Seriously, how do you do it?" Stella marvels, shaking her head.

I loop my arm through Kent's, giving it a supportive squeeze. "Because he's nearly perfect, and there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing." We share a smile before he plants a soft, reassuring kiss on my lips.

"You taste like apples," he whispers.

I raise my glass with a smile.

Then we're all a flutter again with the arrival of Isla's new boyfriend, Travis McBride. He makes a beeline for her, and her face lights up. It's sweet, really, how they seem to exist in their own little bubble, even in a crowded bar.

"Everyone, this is Travis," Isla says, her voice bright with excitement as she introduces him around the table.

"Nice to meet you," Travis says warmly, extending a firm handshake.

"Travis is a structural engineer," Isla informs us proudly.

"What does a structural engineer do?" Kent asks.

"I work for Drake Holdings, a large construction company, and I make sure the buildings are structurally sound. You know, so they don't fall over in an earthquake or collapse because of bad concrete or steel."

"Drake built my building," Kent says. "I live at the Sparrow off of False Creek."

Travis lights up. "That was the first building I worked on with them."

"No kidding? Then maybe you can explain why there's this peculiar nook in the spare bedroom. I've always wondered why it's there in the corner."

"Ah, that." Travis nods. "After inspection, we needed to add extra ventilation. So, what you're looking at is an air vent disguised within the room's design."

"Interesting." I chuckle, amused by this small-world connection. It's fascinating how people's paths crisscross and intertwine in the most unexpected ways.

Kent and Travis fall into a discussion of building structures and the quirks that come along with city regulations. Their exchange is technical, but I admire the easy camaraderie forming between them.

As I listen to their banter, I look around the table and feel a comforting sense of belonging. Despite the nerves about our trip and meeting Kent's mother, in this moment—with friends, laughter, and love weaving through the ambient noise of Sip—I feel grounded and at home.

The chatter at our table pauses again as a slightly disheveled but undeniably charming man strides toward us, a hint of dust on his jeans. This is Jacob Kincade. He and Stella have been seeing each other for a few weeks, and he's a schoolteacher. They met through a Swipe Right date, only they were matched with different people. They managed to find each other anyway, leaving their other dates behind.

"Sorry I'm late," he announces with an apologetic smile that's directed solely at Stella. She stands to greet him, her eyes like the first stars in the evening sky.

"Traffic was a nightmare," Jacob continues, his hand reaching for Stella's in a gesture that speaks volumes. "Had a parent caught up in it and couldn't leave until we connected." He wraps his arm around her. "Needless to say, I'll never name a child Max."

My heart swells with warmth. Stella's cheeks are flushed with the kind of happiness that comes when you're seen and cherished. Jacob is clearly all in, and I'm so glad for that.

"Every day is an adventure with kids," he adds with a laugh.

I lean back in my chair, my gaze drifting over the faces of my friends. It's almost surreal how we've journeyed to this moment. Us ladies met with the shared goal of finding someone special, yet here we are, bound by the unexpected gift of our friendship. And as luck or fate would have it, we've each found men who are more than just fleeting interests. They're the great guys we dreamed about during those long nights of confessions and aspirations.

I glance at the clock; it's nearing the time when Kent and I need to make our exit and prepare to catch our flight and chase the dawn. His hand finds mine under the table—a silent signal that he, too, is aware of the ticking minutes.

"Before you guys head out," Isla says, her voice tinged with the excitement of a shared secret, "we've got something for you."

Stella slides a festively wrapped package across the table to me. "Happy early birthday, Amelia!"

"You didn't have to do this. We're going to Spatopia when I get back for massages and mani-pedis."

Isla shrugs. "Since Kent is keeping you from us on your actual birthday, we thought we'd get you this for your trip."

My fingers work through the tape and paper, revealing an array of gifts so thoughtful, I can hardly believe my luck—a universal travel adapter, a sleek portable power bank, and a lightweight backpack perfect for long city walks. There's also a travel guidebook. Its corners marked with neon post-its, a notebook paired with a silver pen, and an assortment of snacks for the long flight ahead.

"Guys, this is incredible," I tell them, touched by their attention to detail. The practicality mixed with the anticipation of adventure. It's all so them, so us.

"We marked the places you need to see," Stella says.

"I'm going to take her sightseeing," Kent promises.

"We know that. But as a local you might not realize all the places she'll want to see. We included the Parliament building."

Kent nods. "I'm sure my mother will give us a tour."

"Plus," Isla interjects. "We can't have you getting lost or running out of battery in the middle of your British escapades." Her smile is as warm as a hug.

"Or starve!" Stella adds with a chuckle.

"Promise to send updates, okay?" Isla says.

"I promise." These two will be with me every step of the way, even across the ocean.

But now, it's time to go, and the air shifts, heavy with the weight of temporary farewells. We stand and exchange hugs.

"Take care of her, Kent," Stella admonishes gently.

"Always do," Kent replies, his arm wrapping around my shoulders to prove his point.

Stella holds me tight. "Always remember that we love you, and if his mother is difficult, it's on her, not you."

I squeeze her back. "Thank you."

Outside, the cool night air braces us as we wait for our rideshare. Kent's thumb draws small circles on the back of my hand, a comforting gesture that does little to calm the fluttering in my stomach.

"Hey," he says softly, tilting my chin up, "you're going to be great. My mom will love you."

"What if she doesn't?" The question slips out.

"Then it doesn't matter," Kent assures me with unwavering certainty. "Because I love you. And don't forget, Rhonda and Spencer are practically campaigning for you."

I laugh at that, easing the tension. If I've won over the stalwarts of his childhood, how bad could facing the baroness really be?

"Okay, then. To London we go," I say, a newfound resolve steadying my voice as the car pulls up to the curb.

"Absolutely," Kent agrees as we slip into the backseat. "London here we come."