“Yes, sir.”
His son grimaces at my honorific, but I couldn’t care less. I’ll kiss Harold Bishop’s ass all he wants if it means I can keep my business afloat.
He strides out of the room to whatever important meeting he has, and Mr. Montague and Serena exit soon after, the woman still looking like she might cry. Normally, the bride has the most to say during consultations, but she didn’t speak a single word after discovering it wasn’t this Archer guy she’ll be marrying.
I pick up the folder she left behind, passing by Gabriel slumped in his chair as he blows out a long breath. I try to ignore his gaze on me, a tangible presence that makes me conscious of my body, the way I move. It’s not like I’ve never been around an attractive guy before. Manhattan is filled with them. Some days you can’t turn the corner without running into some model slash actor who’s sure to be the next big thing.
But they don’t have inky dark hair and tanned skin that makes the blue of their eyes pop so vividly, it makes you take a second glance. And then a third once you notice that chiseled jaw with sexy stubble dotting it. And then a fourth when they give you a cocky smirk because you realize you’ve been staring at them for a solid ten seconds.
I scowl, whirling back around to stow everything away in my tote bag. I wasn’t looking at him, just in his general direction as my mind wandered… about him.
I’m nearly finished when he finally says my name, his voice serious now. I set my things down on the conference table, expecting him to warn me about staying quiet about our previous meeting or hit on me again or something, but he surprises me.
“I’m sorry about the way I approached you last night. Well, that I even did it at all.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, head cast down. “I had just found out about this whole thing and wasn’t in a good headspace. I thought it was my last night of… freedom, I guess.” He shrugs, his body language screaming dejection, and I can’t help but feel bad for him. This will definitely take the cake for the weirdest wedding I’ve ever planned. Both the bride and groom don’t want to marry the other.
“Did you find someone to go home with?”
“No,” he says ruefully, a hint of a grin lurking around his lips. “I was sufficiently chastised.”
“Sorry I cockblocked you then.”
He laughs, amusement in his eyes. “I deserved it.”
Wow, he’s being surprisingly mature about all of this. If he can, then I can too. “I hope we can start on a fresh foot. As long as you promise not to go to any more bars.”
He makes an X motion over his chest. “Cross my heart. Don’t think the missus would like that too much. As you could see, she’s dying to marry me.”
I wince and he laughs again. “So it was obvious to you too?”
I nod reluctantly and he runs a hand through his hair, face turning melancholy.
I’m unsure what to say. Giving my condolences doesn’t seem quite right. I’m banking on him going through with the wedding. Congratulations will ring insincere too. I settle on just keeping it professional. “Are you available tomorrow to start completing the consultation list? I was under the impression everything should be scheduled as soon as possible.”
He stares at me for a moment, those blue eyes going as intense as his father’s before he blinks and it disappears. “I’m free tomorrow,” he says simply, walking past me. “See you then.”
I grab my bag, half of my brain already making lists of all the things I need to prepare now that I’m officially hired, the other half lingering over the sadness radiating off of both Serena and Gabriel.
It seems money can’t buy you happiness.
But at least you can use your hundred dollar bills to dry your tears.
The bell above the door chimes as I stroll in, the sweet perfume of hundreds of varieties of flowers greeting my nose. I breathe in deep, never tiring of the smell, and spot Diana helping an older woman pick out a bouquet over in the corner of the shop.
Another woman waits patiently at the register and I walk behind the counter to ring her up, carefully handling the succulent terrarium she’s buying. “These are so cute,” I tell her. “I have two of them on my balcony at home.” That’s a lie. Priced at thirty-five dollars each, I can’t afford these. I also can’t afford a balcony right now.
The woman beams, thanking me as she leaves, and I linger behind the register until Diana’s finished with her customer.
“You don’t have to do that,” she chides me softly. “You’re not an employee.”
No, I’m her tenant. After striking out on my own last year and creating my event planning business, I discovered I wasn’t quite as ready to go solo as I believed. The money I’d saved quickly dwindled under Manhattan’s sky-high real estate prices for office space, and what I thought was an investment in my business turned out to be a nightmare when I had to break the lease. Let me tell you, they don’t make it cheap to get out of those.
“I like helping,” I answer, knowing she needs it now more than ever. She recently had to let go of the part-time retail associate that normally runs the register.
When she confessed to me one night that the florist shop she inherited from her father was struggling, I jumped on the chance to rent out the small office in the corner of her store, bringing her some much needed cash-flow and providing me with a deeply discounted space to meet with clients compared to what I was paying before. Plus, events and flowers go hand in hand. It’s a win-win for both of us.
“And I have good news.”
She grabs my shoulders, her dark eyes sparkling. “You booked the wedding?”
I nod and she pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tight. “That’s so awesome. I told you going out last night would relax you enough to do an amazing job.”
I’d been a nervous wreck yesterday after receiving the call from Mr. Bishop’s secretary that he wanted to consult with me about a wedding for his son. Apparently, my former boss had recommended me when she was approached about handling it, only because she happens to be eight and a half months pregnant right now and can’t take on any new clients.
I swear, once I receive my first check, I’ll send her the biggest baby shower gift basket she’s ever seen.
The bell over the shop door rings and she lets go of me, turning to sign for a package from the cute delivery guy she’s been flirting with for the better part of a year.
I take the opportunity to slip into my makeshift office, sighing as I squeeze behind the desk to sit down, missing the larger space I used to rent, the coffee shop around the corner where they knew my order, the status of having my own place. The furniture I bought for my original office is way too big for this cramped area, but I can’t afford to get rid of it. It was expensive for starters, and who knows, I could have my own big office again someday. This wedding will put me on the map for future business.
My phone vibrates in my purse and I fish it out, spotting Mom’s face on the screen. For once, I’m glad she called. I actually have good news for a change, rather than having to pretend things are going better than they truly are.
“Mom, hi.” I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder as I boot up my laptop and open the spreadsheets I’ve meticulously created detailing all my wedding industry contacts. I need to put together a range of options for Serena and Gabriel to choose from tomorrow.