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“I’ll reach out to Selene’s stylist so we can color coordinate your attire,” Mitchell says.
I flip a pen between my fingers. “That won’t be necessary. Selene isn’t my plus-one for this event.”
Mitchell looks up from his tablet, his expression reflecting surprise. “Oh?”
Over the years, there have been a handful of occasions in which Selene has not been my plus-one at events that we both attend. Usually, it’s a result of Selene being involved with someone, rather than the other way around. Where Selene tended to date high profile people, I kept my relationships—what few I’d had—fairly low-key.
“London will be my plus-one. I’ll reach out directly and inquire about her dress so we’re able to coordinate.”
“London Spark, sir?”
“That’s correct. If you can connect with her regarding the flight to New York, that would be great. And if we need to use the private jet, we can, but see what’s available on commercial flights first.”
“Would you like me to arrange hotel accommodations as well?” He types furiously on his tablet.
“That won’t be necessary. London’s accommodations are already taken care of.”
Mitchell has been my right-hand man for years. So when I’m met with silence, I finally look up from my calendar.
“I know you have questions, so go ahead and ask them.”
“No questions. You’re quite taken with Miss Spark.”
“I am.”
“That’s good. It’s about damn time.”
19
DOUSE THE FLAME
LONDON
Jackson left for New York yesterday morning. He’s already messaged asking about my schedule for the rest of the week. He’s determined to fit in a visit. And a sleepover. Dating someone who lives halfway across the country seems daunting, but when they have their own jet and own shares in an airline, it certainly makes the distance a whole lot more manageable.
We have a huge event this weekend, and I still need to make the centerpiece prototype. Beyond that, I have more than twenty Etsy orders to catch up on, and I have no less than six conference calls scheduled with the guests from the charity auction. To say I’m a little overwhelmed would be an understatement.
I spend the first couple of hours of my day managing emails, then switch gears and head out to the barn to create a centerpiece so the staff can get started on those tomorrow, then come back to the office, where my sisters and I gather around my desk for the first two conference calls.
At the end of it, we have two more events to plan for later in the year.
Avery is ridiculously excited about one of them because it’s a team-building conference, which means she’ll be able to design an obstacle course.
Harley and I leave Spark House together at six thirty and stop to pick up takeout on the way home. I grab my laptop and set it up at the table beside my dinner plate and pull up my Etsy orders.
“Holy crap.”
“What’s up?” Harley shoves a forkful of pad thai in her mouth.
We had an early lunch of leftovers from the dinner event this weekend, so we’re both starving.
“This can’t be right.”
She covers her mouth with her hand. “What can’t be right?”
“Between this weekend and now, I have another twenty-five Etsy orders.” I scroll through the new orders, mentally trying to figure out if I have enough stock to fulfill all of these, or if I’m going to need to rush order supplies.
“That’s amazing!” Harley leans across the table to check out my computer screen.
“Yeah, amazing,” I echo.
I’m already wiped out from the weekend, and from staying up late with Jackson. Now I’m looking at several evenings of work on top of everything else. This is more than double the orders I’m used to managing.
“I can help if you want. I know you usually like to do it all on your own, but this seems like a lot.”
“I might have to take you up on that.”
We finish dinner, and I get out everything I need for the first batch of orders. On the upside, I have enough to fulfill all the current orders. Before I get started, I reorder more of the stock I need to complete the new ones, so I can have them all sent out by the end of the week. And then Harley and I set up an assembly line and tackle each project, one at a time.
The joy I usually experience is diluted with anxiety over the sheer number of orders, and the fact that I’m already tired and trying to figure out how I’m going to get the rest of these done and still manage to find time to spend with Jackson when he’s back in town later this week.
“We need to pick out a dress for you for that charity event in New York. Maybe we can look at sites tomorrow night,” Harley suggests.
“Jackson has already asked about my color preferences, and Aylin reached out this week asking about styles, so I’m not sure that’s necessary. And I’ll probably have to work on these tomorrow night.” I motion to the computer screen with all the pending orders.
