And soon after that, Vonnie wanders in their direction too.
A harmless short-lived fantasy,I scold myself.
I have a mysterious habit of swooning at men who later turn out to be unavailable.
Probably why I’ve been single for so long.
Because I want more than that.
I crave a love that goes deep.
And that doesn’t exist in the modern world, right?
Everything’s about swiping left or right.
???
Marco eventually moves away to speak with the setup crew about signage, directing a pair of men with ladders toward the far side of the room.
I naturally follow my sweet tooth to the catering area.
Scrumptious morsels await my approval.
This is the only part of the sign off that I willingly take part in. I reach for one of the small tasting plates and take a bite.
Fresh, bright flavours bloom across my tongue.
Porter returns from the kitchen with a tray of chocolate and raspberry mousse piped into individual shot glasses. Each one has been adorned with an intricate twist of softly sculpted caramel. While he adjusts another tray nearby, I stand back to admire the easy confidence of someone who knows his craft.
Quick hands, relaxed posture.
An occasional hum as he smiles to himself about something.
Or someone. I can guess who.
I try to think of something clever to say. I’m just about to ask him what he put in the marinade, but then Vonnie appears beside me out of nowhere.
She follows my line of sight toward the chef and pulls me briskly by the sleeve.
We stand behind the reception desk, voices low.
“Sorry to break your heart, but it’s best if I rip the band-aid off now. Before you spend the next forty eight hours going down a rabbit hole that leads nowhere. Like last time.”
Ouch. Her assessment is blunt, but well intentioned.
She recently witnessed my unrequited infatuation for one of the builders who fitted out the studio several months earlier. Asupposedly straight, very married builder whose flirty gaze had no intention behind it.
“Okay. Hit me with it.”
I brace myself.
“My spies in the kitchen tell me that Porter has the hots for one of his friends.”
There it is. I exhale.
“I don't have a name yet. But a waitress who works with him often says that he and his crush have been circling each other all morning. Lots of unspoken glances and hand brushing.”
I nod. I’ve seen it too.
