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“Of course. Which is why I’ve lined up my colleague—”
“No. We did not hire yourcolleaguefor Beatrice’s special day; we hired you. I expect you to be there.”
Silence sat heavily between us. I’d stopped swiveling on my chair and stared at my slack-jawed reflection in the mirror. This woman was serious. For all she knew, my husband had just died, and I needed to take the rest of the year off to grieve.
“Miss Parker?”
Okay, so maybe nothusband.
“Still here,” I confirmed. I’d come up with backup incentives for this exact scenario and flipped the page on my notebook to consult my options. “I am prepared to offer you a 50 percent discount if you accept the change in stylist—”
“I am not sure how to make myself more clear. You have signed a contract, and you will fulfill it.”
Three beeps in my ear indicated that the call had ended, and I stared at my phone. Momzilla seriously hung up on me? Even after I offered the womanhalf offher service that I would have had to pay Zoe out of my own pocket? My stomach tightened, and I scrolled down to Bridget’s phone number, my finger hovering over the call button. Rhett’s publicist was intimidating, like on par with Momzilla, and if I didn’t fix this somehow, I could kiss the entire summer with Rhett goodbye.
It was time to beg.
Bridget answered the phone after one ring. I had the feeling the woman lived with her phone permanently in her hand.
“Hi, Bridget. This is Beth Parker, the stylist—”
“Yes, what is it?”
All business, as I expected. Maybe she wouldn’t take to blatant fangirl begging? Professionalism was likely my best option. “I’ve cleared my schedule in order to come along on the charity tour, but there is one client I can’t reschedule.”
A man’s voice spoke in the background, and I froze. Was that Rhett? It sounded like him.
“It’s the stylist.” Bridget had clearly not been speaking to me. Her voice returned to my ear, louder, like a bark. “Date?”
Good grief, did the woman haveanywarmth? I rattled off the mid-June wedding and squeezed my eyes closed, crossing my fingers.
She repeated the date to whoever was with her and then sighed. “That...should be fine.”
My eyes shot open, and I stared at my crossed fingers through the mirror. “Fine?”
“Yes. That Saturday has nothing on the schedule. You can return by the following Monday for Rhett’s next date, right? It looks like we’ll be traveling to Park City then.”
“Yes, I can definitely be in Utah by Monday.”
“Great. Is that all?”
“I’m looking forward to this opportunity, Bridget. Thank you for taking a chance on me.”
“We’ll see you next week.” She clicked off the call, and I tossed my phone onto the seat and jumped up, punching the air and twirling in a circle.
I hummed a made-up tune as I continued my victory dance, shaking my booty to the sound of triumph.
“Let me guess,” a voice said from the doorway, and I stopped mid-spin to find my best friend leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed above her huge, round belly. “Rhett proposed?”
“Don’t jinx me,” I pleaded. I waited for the dizziness to subside before crossing the room and pulling her into a hug. “I didn’t hear you knock.”
“I figured. Bell still broken?”
“I don’t think the building manager ever intends to actually fix it.” I pulled Charlie’s hand toward my bedroom and pushed aside the piles of clothes to make room for her on the bed. “If you’re here, though, you’re helping me pack.”
“So it’s official. You’re going?”
My grin stretched clear from here to New York. “Yeah, I’m going.”
