We hadn’t even taken a sip when Nicolas and Valentina entered the bar. Both wore jeans now and carried jackets. “Should we just stay here?” Valentina planted herself on the chair next to Lucy. “Ooh, champagne, that looks good.” “It’s Caroline’s birthday, so we’re celebrating today,” Lucy said. “But we haven’t toasted her yet.” She lifted her hand to signal to the bartender, and Nicolas hung his coat on the back of the chair next to me. “It’s really your birthday?” he asked as he sat down. “Yes.” “Happy birthday, then. How old are you?” “Twenty-three. How about you?” “Twenty-six.” “How long have you lived in New York?” “Just for the past year. I like it there, but I miss Buenos Aires.” He jerked his head toward Valentina, who was ordering something off the menu.
