Kismet (Happy Endings 3)

Riya squeezes my shoulder. “You’re on my team, and you better not be pulling my leg.”

Freddy chuckles. “Spoiler alert, Jo. Riya’s total rubbish at darts.”

“Am not,” Riya says, playfully stomping her foot. “I’m a dart goddess.”

I glance over at Heath. His face is stony. “Do you play?” I ask evenly, like I’m not dying to know every detail about him.

“No, thank you,” he says, but that’s not an answer.

I’m not going to press for one, though, especially since he practically vaults out of the room.

Riya smiles after him, then shrugs. “He hardly ever goes to group things.”

Freddy snorts. “Hardly? I’d say never, Riya.”

My lips part, and I start to ask why, but then I reel the word back in. It’s not my place to pry.

I simply smile, instead, and leave the conference room, grateful to have plans for tonight.

I am a social beast, after all.

When the workday ends, I’m tempted to stop by Heath’s office again, but that would be a bad idea. Except his office is on the way out. As I sling my purse onto my shoulder and walk down the hallway, I pass his door.

He pecks away on his computer, dark glasses on.

“Good night, Heath. It was great meeting you.”

He turns to me, a secret grin lighting his handsome face. “And you as well, Jo. Have fun playing darts.”

“Have fun . . . reading?”

He removes the glasses, and his brown eyes twinkle. “Excellent guess. But I might also play some chess.”

Alone or with someone, I want to ask. But the more I ask, the more I’ll linger, and the harder it’ll be to walk away next time.

“Good luck,” I say, then I go.

I join my co-workers at a nearby pub. They’re a motley crew, and I love the mix of people and backgrounds. We order pints and exchange bios at a crowded table near the bar. I learn that Riya, who’s Indian, met her boyfriend, who’s French, while geocaching, and they now compete once a month against other couples in the treasure hunt hobby. Freddy grew up in Leeds, and met his wife, Millie, at a knitting class. Together, they run a knitting-for-beginners class every Sunday. I also learn Millie has seen Wicked ten times, and I practically vibrate with excitement.

“You win. But I have seen it eight,” I confess.

She smacks palms with me. “I go once a year with my friends. We call ourselves the Galindas and the Elphabas, and we go in full makeup,” she says, then pats her cheek, her Black skin luminous. “And I do look good in green.”

“I bet you look fantastic,” I tell her.

“I can also tell you which actress playing Elphaba has the best belt.”

I sweep out a hand. “Dish. Now. I must know everything.”

“Really?” Millie asks with an arch of her brow.

“Of course. Musicals are my religion. I worship at the altar of theater.”

“You’re funny,” she says with a laugh.

“Which makes me wonder . . .” Riya begins, tapping her chin.

Millie gives her a knowing look. “Oh, I can tell where you’re going.”

Riya smiles, all sweet innocence. “Of course you do, Mill. I’m wondering if she would be a good one for Harry?”

Now I, too, know where this is headed. I love it when friends try to set up the new peeps. It’s totally endearing, and I’ve done it myself. I’m not sure I want to be matched, but I’m pleased they’re thinking of me that way.

Freddy rolls his eyes. “Riya. Millie. I swear. We need to give Jo some breathing room. She just started today.”

“All the better to grab her for one of our mates before she finds someone on her own,” Riya teases.

Millie gives me an expectant look. “Are you single, or is there a man, or a woman, waiting for you in New York?”

“I’m very single,” I say, wishing it weren’t true. Wishing I were dating the guy I’m working with. “But I’m not actually interested in dating any men just now. Honestly, I want to focus on work.”

That’s true, at least. Completely true.

Riya pouts, and Millie pretends to sneer. Then we circle to other topics, and somehow, an hour has passed while we chat about everything and nothing.

Then, it’s time for darts. As the game begins, Riya tugs me to her side. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s nice to go out with friends from work.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Riya drops her voice to a whisper. “Heath never goes, but we always try to get him to come with us.”

Why is she telling me this? But maybe it’s simply to try to explain his absence. “You mentioned that,” I say casually, doing my best not to give away my interest in the man who isn’t here.

“I mean, he has his reasons and all, I suppose. But still, we don’t bite. We’re all nice.”

Reasons? What are his reasons?