She made a dismissive sound. “Boring.” Turning, she extended her hand toward Zara, who I hadn’t even realized had been following me. “Hi, you must be Zara. I’m—”
“Cat.” Zara finished for her with a wide smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Sabrina told me all about you too.” Cat opened her arms wide and flung them around Zara’s neck. “Thank you for helping her get here. I’m just happy she’s got someone around her she’s not too stubborn to ask for a favor, so thank you for going to bat for her.”
Zara let out a slightly shocked laugh and hugged her back. “No problem. I’m glad I could help.”
The two of them looked to me, and my heart squeezed. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have friends close by. I’d forgotten how much I missed Cat and how good it felt to let new people in. For so long I’d let myself fall into the safety of my relationship with Seth and hiding out in the apartment with Hunter. I finally felt like I was more of me, more of the Sabrina I’d been before taking one too many knocks and dings from life.
“The happy hour we’re heading to isn’t for another few hours, so I’m game to follow you guys around until it’s time.”
“You don’t have to. Zara, is it okay if Cat goes up to the room to hang out?”
“I don’t—”
“I’ve been trapped in conference rooms and hotel suites for forever. Let me mingle. I swear I’ll be good.” Cat stepped back and folded her shoulders in a bit and ducked her head, attempting to make her oversize personality seem more contained. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
After all this time, I knew when to argue with Cat and when it was a losing proposition. “Not a word.”
She zipped her lips, took the imaginary key, and stuck it into my front pocket, which was only big enough to hold an imaginary key.
We roamed the aisles of booths, and I made introductions, offering anyone who requested samples of my work postcards with my QR codes on them. I even had a chance to speak with members of the Waverly Hotels Group Zara worked with.
Cat wandered around, immediately breaking her zippered-lip pact and began talking me up in a way only she could, never mentioning that she knew me, but talking about how she’d snagged one of the last of my cards although I had a stack in my bag.
She was a one-woman hype machine, and as much as it heated my cheeks, I loved her for it.
Dead on my feet with a cheek-aching grin, I finally felt like maybe I was getting somewhere.
We reconvened back in the hotel room a few hours later.
I collapsed into the chair and set my bag down on the desk. Kicking off my shoes, I curled and uncurled my toes and leaned my head against the seat back.
Cat sat on the couch and smiled back at me.
I tilted my head, looking at her down the bridge of my nose. “What?”
“Nothing.” Her smile widened.
“Now you have to tell me. What is it?”
“It’s good to see you so happy doing your thing.”
I chuckled. “Running around like a demented chicken trying to get people to look at my work?”
“No, sharing what you’re good at. Not being afraid to show them your passion.” Her head dipped, and she folded her hands, resting her forearms on her thighs. “For a long time I wondered if you’d get it back.”
“I went into hibernation mode for a while there, huh?”
She leaned back with her arms stretched over the back of the sofa. “You did. But I get it. When you keep getting doors slammed in your face, it’s hard to gather up the courage to knock again.”
The years between college and Seth had been one nonstop rejection-fest. It wasn’t until right now that I saw how much it had made me retreat into myself and how much I believed that all the bad being visited on me was because of wrong choices in my past.
The Siren Song event and what had happened with Trevor—Old Sabrina would’ve never blamed herself for that. I would have immediately kicked him in the balls and cursed him the hell out.
I sat up straighter in the chair. “It feels good.”
“It looks good on you.” She glanced at her watch. “If we want to make the happy hour, we need to leave soon. Did you want to send Zara a message?”
The lock beeped, and the door opened. Zara walked in and dumped her stuff on the couch beside Cat.
“Zara, are you up for happy hour?”
She groaned and collapsed beside Cat and nodded.
“That noise and the head nod don’t exactly match.”
“I know, but I do want to go out. Give me ten minutes to mentally throat punch a few people and call Leo, and I’m in.” She stood back up, grabbed her phone, and walked into the bedroom of the suite.
“What exactly are you planning for us tonight?”
“Nothing big. Don’t worry. It’ll be a lot of fun, and I’ll have you both home by eight. Trust me.”
The taxi pulled off, leaving the three of us standing outside the building. It was at the end of a driveway lined with red flags with white crosses in the center flapping in the sharp December air.
I regretted this decision immediately.
Cat walked up to the security guard standing outside with an earpiece and clipboard like we were trying to get into the hottest new club, not a glass-fronted building complete with metal detectors, K9 units and armed guards.
Zara and I exchanged a look. Hers was a face of abject terror. Oh right, I’d been through years of exposure therapy to Cat’s antics, but even I was a little wary of what exactly she was getting us into. I rushed forward and grabbed Cat’s arm.
“You said this was a happy hour with killer drinks,” I hissed, my gaze darting to the security guard with the closely cropped hair and unamused look, and trying to maintain a smile.
She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. “Oh, it is. Have you ever had a Nordic Mule?”
“This is the Danish Embassy!” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Exactly.” She winked and turned back to the guard with rapid-fire words.
He threw his head back and laughed before nodding, opening the door, and ushering us inside.
The guard corralled Zara and I forward through the bag scanner and metal detectors. My heart was doing an Olympic gold medal gymnastics routine in my chest.
Cat waltzed through the detector, winking at the security officer, who pulled her aside for a wanding behind a security screen.
She came back out with her patented smirk that told me she didn’t think she was even the slightest bit in over her head. With her own flair, she spoke to all the other embassy staff, who laughed and smiled like us popping by to Danish sovereign ground was no big deal. After handing over our licenses and signing in, we were joined by others and walked toward a room filled with music, laughter, and animated chatter.
Cat walked into the room like she did this every day. With her line of work, maybe she did. Now more than ever, I wanted to grab her, lock us in a room together, and go over exactly what she did for the Ivans with a fine-tooth comb.
“Catherine!” A voice boomed from across the room. Heads turned in our direction. A large man with a broad chest, impeccable suit, and twinkling eyes burst through the circle of people who surrounded him and strode across the room. He held both her arms and bent to kiss her on both cheeks.