Page 47 of The No Try Zone
“Thank you.” I nod to the tree. “It’s beautiful.”
She grins. “Thanks. I love a good theme.”
“It looks like something out of a catalogue.”
“You know Kari isn’t about to have a stitch of anything out of place,” Elodie says, drawing near to pull Kari into a sideways hug. “It’s why we love her. Everything is controlled, but lovingly so.”
Allyson and I laugh while Kari sticks her tongue out at Elodie.
“You’re still the same girl I met in Melbourne twenty years ago,” I tease her. And it’s true: even then, she knew exactly who she was and made no apologies for it. Admirable, even if sometimes it’s annoying.
“I am,” she admits with a smile. “And how lucky are we to have run into you all those months ago at the Mexican restaurant?”
I laugh. “If I hadn’t been desperate for some guac and chips, who knows where we’d all be.”
Elodie’s eyes shine with affection. “It’s true. I’m so glad I met you.”
“I mean, I’m glad we’ve been able to watch the reality show that is Colin and Sam,” Allyson quips, tipping her half-empty glass at us.
I scowl at her. “No thanks to you.” Then, because I’m desperate for a topic change, I gesture at the gifts we’ve all brought for the exchange. “When are we doing this? I can’t wait to see how this works in America.”
“It’s Dirty Santa – you know how it works,” Kari deadpans. “You just don’t want to talk about Colin.”
Elodie cozies into the couch and rubs her hands together. “Ooh, what’s the latest? Any late-night shenanigans? Heat-filled glances across the room? Kissing?” She delivers the last word with a low, teasing voice, shimmying her shoulders as she speaks.
It’s painful how close she is to the truth. And maybe it’s the expression on my face, but hers lights up in response. “Oh my gosh, I was kidding, but I think I’m right!” she gasps. “Are you and Colin a thing?”
“I mean, theyaremarried,” Allyson reminds the room.
“Did you know the only way we can get a divorce is by appearing before a judge there, in person?” I ask. “That’s what it says on the website, anyway. But I have to believe it’s not true. There has to be a better way. Can’t we just do it by Zoom?”
Allyson taps her chin thoughtfully. “You’d think. I can look into that.”
I beam at her gratefully. “Really? I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
“There has to be a wrinkle with you being Australian,” Kari pipes up. She pulls her phone from where it’s resting on the coffee table and types something onto it before setting it back down. “I’ll investigate. Nothing like what Allyson does, of course. Can’t you hack into the Nevada court system and just make their marriage disappear? Because that’s my favorite idea.”
“I still think it’s romantic,” Elodie sighs. “I think it’s fate.”
I snort. “Fate? More like too much alcohol. And then certain friends of mine meddling where they shouldn’t be.” I level a look at her. “Don’t think we didn’t see right through you at Thanksgiving.”
Elodie’s cheeks heat. “I think you deserve a chance to see if it’s real. You don’t see the way he looks at you, Sam.”
“If it’s anything like the way I look at him, then it’s a wonder we’re both not dead from that alone,” I quip.
Elodie shakes her head. “Not even close. He looks at you like you hung the moon. Like he can’t believe you’re in the same orbit as him.”
“She’s way out of his league,” Allyson agrees. “Have you seen the way that man dresses? It’s a crime. Can’t you do something about that, Miss PR?” she asks Kari.
Kari waves her off and downs the last of her drink. “I’m not doing anything to help with this charade. I want it over and done with. It’s a nightmare of a PR story if it gets out, and I’m not interested in cleaning it up. That said.” She levels a serious look at me to say the next part. “If you really were interested in him, I could be persuaded to ease up. Until then? Fuck it all.”
We all cackle as I take another sip of the peppermint martini.
Allyson leans in. “You can at least help with a stylist. That’s got nothing to do with whatever is going on with him and Sam. The man is a professional rugby coach in Atlanta. The options for him to look good are limitless. He looks like an overgrown frat bro. Fix him.”
I can’t help but giggle at the image that Allyson paints, even as Kari rises from the couch. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Elodie pipes up. “Clothes are their own form of PR, and you know it. I mean, Ansel’s legs could have their own PR firm, let’s be honest.”
