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Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to pull this off. I’m pretty sure Kenzie won’t be happy to hear from me. She strikes me as the person who won’t care about the job prospect because of the way I treated her.
I need to smooth things over with her and get her to agree to do the event. And then make sure she does a stellar job. And also pretend to love Christmas. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I may not have gotten rid of my assistant, but if all this solidifies me as the choice for partner, then it will be worth it.
ChapterSix
Kenzie
My studio apartment has two things going for it. First, it’s in Manhattan. Second, it’s small enough that I really only need to move about two steps in each direction whether I’m hungry or I have to go the bathroom. New York has much worse to offer and, like I said, it’s in Manhattan.
I fall back on the pull-out sofa that’s also my bed and lean my head back, closing my eyes.
It wasn’t the best day for me as an event planner.
I met with a potential client for her daughter’s fifth birthday and even though kids’ parties aren’t my ultimate goal, I was really excited about it. The client lived in a condo that overlooks Central Park, so working with her would definitely be a stepping-stone into the most elite circles in Manhattan.
Everything was going well. She loved my vision about turning her large family room into a Candy Land with pastel drapes falling from the ceiling and a cotton candy rainbow over the entryway. Then she threw me the bomb. Her daughter was obsessed with unicorns and she wanted to switch the theme to unicorns.
I was cool to switch it up—a million other ideas floated in my head—but she mentioned that she wanted a real unicorn at the party.
Silence filled the large room with a twenty-foot ceiling, and I sat for a moment before I figured out that she wasn’t joking. Unfortunately, I had to voice with a cringe that there’s no such thing as a unicorn.
She replied, “Obviously. But I want it to look like a real unicorn. A white horse with a unicorn horn on its head. She’d absolutely love it.”
I put my pen to paper to keep my thoughts to myself. “Like, in your apartment?” I pointed at the floor to make sure I’d heard clearly.
Her eyes narrowed and I assume she saw the horror on my face as I pictured the horse relieving itself on her fifty-thousand-dollar wool rug that she’d bragged she’d spent almost a year searching for before she found it and there wasn’t a replica anywhere in the world.
“Of course in the apartment. It’s plenty big enough.” Her arms widened as if I didn’t feel minuscule in the condo.
Normally I thrive on pulling off the impossible when a client has a grand idea for their party, and if we were in the suburbs, I’d be heading to the horse ranches, but this is Manhattan. I can’t snap my fingers and have a horse delivered, stuffed in an elevator to go up fifty-five flights, and then let it loose in a fully furnished apartment.
When I told her I was unsure if animal control would fine us if we were even able to get an animal that weighs on average fifteen hundred pounds into the elevator, her nose scrunched, and I knew I had broken the cardinal rule of event planning. I had come off as being more intelligent than the client. But in this case, I was clearly the saner of us. I gave her a bunch of other ideas for the party—ones I suspected she was now going to pass on to whichever designer she did hire, and they’d pass them off as their own.
I blow out a breath and right my head, grabbing the remote beside me and flicking on the television. After a few minutes of scrolling and not finding anything interesting, I pick up my phone and pull up the Blind Dating App to check if I have any new matches.
After last night’s disaster, I’m not in a huge hurry to go on another blind date, but like Tessa is always telling me, Mr. Right won’t come crashing through my door and declare his undying love. I must put some effort into meeting him. Which is funny, since she’s still single herself.
I click on my direct messages and find one from Andrew. I drop the phone on the sofa cushion next to me. A big part of me wants to leave it unread because he’s the type who would be driven crazy by that, but I’m too curious for my own good. After debating for more than a minute, I pick my phone up and click on the message.
IOBJECT – Can we talk?
That’s all it says. No apology, no mention of even wanting to say I’m sorry, just that he wants to talk. That could mean so many things. Maybe he wants me to split the bill with him for last night. Or he talked to my brother and has some unnecessary guilt over treating me the way he did.
I debate not answering at all. Him knowing I’ve read the message and purposely didn’t respond might drive him straight to insanity. But I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt since he is my brother’s friend, because if my brother wants me to meet someone, it means it’s serious. If he proposes to her and they get married someday, I’ll have to be around Finn and I’m not one for uncomfortable situations, so I type out my response.
RAINBOWRIDER – What do we have to talk about?
No more than two minutes pass before he responds.
IOBJECT – Can we meet up? Where are you? I can come to your place.
Huh. He sounds desperate to talk to me.
RAINBOWRIDER – Again… what is this about?
I swear I can envision him pushing his hand through his reddish-brown hair in frustration. The thought of it puts a smile on my face.
