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Florence looked intrigued.
“I’m Nick, and this is Cleo. Consider us your emotional support partygoers for the evening. We’re happy to usher you through the crowd, chatting everyone up with you, and keep things moving along. Then when you’re ready to leave, we can make it a smooth transition.”
“This is interesting,” Florence admitted. “I’ve had handlers before, but honestly, they handle very little. You’re proposing something else.”
“Yes,” Cleo said, tipping her chin back and seeming to pick up the thread. “We’re happy to serve as a liaison between you and the crowd. Just give a small signal when you want to move along, and we’ll make it look organic. No hurt feelings and no one left wondering if you were uninterested in what they had to say. Like Nick said, smooth and polite without draining your battery.”
“Oh,” Florence breathed. “My battery doesn’t do well in places like this. I know that sounds terrible.”
“Not at all,” Nick replied quickly. “You’re a brilliantly creative woman who inspires the masses, and you can’t be expected to have all that talent and an unlimited social capacity. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us if you had it all.”
She smirked. “And you’re associated with the hotel?”
“No,” Nick said coolly. “We’re just associated with each other. Cleo is a big fan, and she had some insight into you from your writing. We suspected this might not be your scene and just want to help.”
“You two are very peculiar. But a beautiful couple. I don’t have anyone here with me tonight. My assistant went off and got married last week. My friend, who I sometimes drag to these things, was away on business. I was sitting here dreading the next couple of hours. I suppose you've come at just the right time.”
“Tell us how we can help,” Cleo said, stepping forward. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’m starving, but I don’t want to go out there until it’s time to read a passage from my book. If I go now, I’ll be too embarrassed to try to eat those tiny sandwiches while people ask me questions.”
“I’ll make you a plate,” Cleo said with a dutiful nod.
When she slipped out of the tent, Florence eyed Nick closely. “You two are married?”
He saw no reason for anything besides transparency. The woman was a prolific writer of love stories. She would understand. “We started working together on a project about a month ago. We thought it would be over by now, but it’s been extended. I’m falling for her, and I think she is falling for me. But eventually, our lives are going to take us in very different directions.”
“How’s the chemistry?” Florence asked as if she were sizing up a couch she wanted to purchase.
“Electric.”
“The conversation?”
“Enthralling.” He grimaced. “Maybe a little combative at times. We debate more than we chat.”
“Nice. And your pasts. They are similar?”
“I don’t know,” Nick admitted. “She has some closely guarded secrets. I haven’t been able to really understand much about her past. I just know she’s been hurt.”
“And hasn’t healed?”
“No.”
“Therein lies the danger.” Florence sat on one of the folding chairs and patted the one next to her for him to sit. He obliged.
“Danger?”
“If you don’t know who she was growing up, you can’t know who she is today. Is she a runner? Does she leave when things get hard? Does she worry herself out of the moment? Is there a deep mistrust in her for anything that might be too good to be true? You need to know where her pain comes from and how it will impact your love for each other.”
“It’s early to say love,” Nick corrected, though, in his heart, he knew this was different than anything he’d felt before.
“That’s a cop-out,” Florence laughed.
“It totally is,” Nick agreed. “I’ve just tried not to pry. She is so private, and it clearly kills her to talk about whatever happened. I don’t want to push.”
“It sounds like the clock is ticking for you two. Whatever you decide, I wouldn’t wait too long. I write a lot of stories, and the saddest ones are the missed opportunities. I can fiddle with the ending and bring lovers back together, but it doesn’t work that way in real life. And usually, they’ve lost years they could have been in love.”
Nick felt this to his core. It was what his inner voice had been telling him. Shouting at him in the middle of the night. “I hear you,” Nick said as Cleo strolled back in with a plate of food and a prideful expression. “I snagged you some liquid courage too.” She handed over a glass of champagne.
