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“What?” I yank my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans.
As soon as I walked into my apartment two hours ago, I was in the shower. Then I tugged on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt. Comfort is the key to a great evening in my books.
I open my email app and immediately spot the message I’m looking for.
Nolan Black, CEO of Matiz Cosmetics, has emailed both of us.
The subject line is simple and to the point: Meeting at 9 a.m. tomorrow.
The rest of the message doesn’t give anything away. It reiterates the time and adds the place. Mr. Black’s office, which is in the same building we work in.
“It’s good news,” I say to rally myself and Tel.
“It has to be.” He nods without a hint of reassurance in his tone. “Our samples were scentsational.”
I laugh at that because I always do.
Telford first used the term ‘scentsational’ the day we met, which happened to be the same day we started working together. That was almost two years ago.
“They were really good, Tel.” I smile. “I think he’ll tell us that we’ve created the new signature scent for next spring’s line.”
“You think?” He pushes his phone back into the pocket of his blue pants. “Are you sure enough that you’re willing to celebrate that tonight?”
I’m not, but I know Telford needs me to be the positive voice in the room, so I nod again. “I’m sure. I’ll order pizza and a bottle of champagne to toast to it.”
He rubs his chin. “Just get the pizza, Carrie. We’ll indulge in champagne at your sister’s wedding. That’s only four days away now.”
I knew inviting Tel to be my plus one was the right move. He’ll keep me company while Abby’s wish of marrying the man of her dreams comes true.
“We’ll save the alcohol for after the I do’s,” I agree with a sigh. “I’m ordering one of those dessert pizzas, though. The one with the hazelnut spread, caramel sauce, and candied coconut.”
“You might as well pour a cup of sugar down your throat,” Telford remarks. “You’ll get the same result.”
“I wouldn’t enjoy that nearly as much.” I wink at him. “While we wait for the pizza, you can think about what you’ll wear to our meeting with Mr. Black tomorrow.”
Telford looks at me, his expression wrinkled in confusion. “I’ll wear this.”
I glance at his attire. It’s always the same except for the color of his pants. Telford’s small closet in his cramped one bedroom apartment is neatly arranged with a row of pressed white button-down shirts and five pairs of the same pants in varying shades of brown and blue.
“Looks good.” I smile. “I’ll wear a dress.”
“Not the maid of honor one.” He chuckles awkwardly. “There’s a lot of something going on with that, Carrie.”
I try to hold a laugh in as his hand circles his chest.
“What are you trying to say?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he’s referring to.
The day after I found that perfect maid of honor dress, I showed Tel a picture that Abby snapped of me when I tried it on. He choked on the coffee he had just sipped.
“A cardigan would be the perfect accessory for that dress.”
I glance up from my phone and narrow my eyes. “No cardigan for me. That dress and my highest heels are all I’ll have on when my sister gets married.”
I don’t mention the new white lace bra and panty set I bought for the wedding because I don’t want him to faint.
Telford shakes his head. “Mark my words. You’ll regret not wearing the cardigan. The ceremony is in the evening. It’s on a terrace, Carrie. It gets nippy out then.”
“Nippley?” I tease. “Did you say nippley, Telford?”
