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“Which are…”
He doesn’t bother to respond, and I frown. I just want him to love Christmas, to see how magical this time of the year is, and it drives me crazy that I cannot get him to feel the way I do.
More silence until we reach my block. I point at my small building, lit up with a solitary light over the entry door. I inwardly cringe when I spot Mrs. Hoffmeister sitting on the stoop, smoking. “This is me.”
He nods, pushing his hands farther into his pockets. He doesn’t have gloves or a hat, and though it’s not exactly freezing yet, it is chilly. I’ve always found that something about the damp November air settles into your bones.
“Hi, Mrs. Hoffmeister,” I say with a slight wave.
She takes her last drag off her cigarette and tosses it toward the curb. “Kenzie, dear. Who is this fine gentleman?” She smiles and her yellowed teeth glow under the one light.
“This is Andrew. He’s a friend.” The words feel foreign coming out of my mouth because we are definitely not friends, but what am I supposed to say? He’s my brother’s friend and he hates Christmas but he wants to make partner, so now we’re playing nice to both get something that benefits us? And yes, he’s an attractive man, but there’s nothing between us romantically.
I don’t miss how Andrew’s frame jerks in my peripheral vision. He steps forward with his hand out, walking up the few steps. Mrs. Hoffmeister accepts it, not bothering to stand from the step.
“Pleasure,” he says.
Mrs. Hoffmeister turns her attention back to me. “I was hoping to catch up with you. My knees have really been bugging me this week and I was hoping I could count on you to maybe dust the apartment for me. It’s really bothering my allergies. And you know I’d do it but ever since my surgery…”
She trails off because she doesn’t need to finish her sentence. I’ve heard it all a million times. Ever since she had surgery on her knees two years ago, the cold, the rain, the snow—almost any weather event, it seems—makes it hard for her to do certain things.
“It’s getting late tonight, but I can pop by tomorrow morning before I start my day. How does that sound?”
“Oh, you’re an angel.” Her smile causes relief to surge through my veins.
“How’d you get down here to smoke?” Andrew asks with barely concealed skepticism, eyeballing the stairs she’s sitting on.
I get that uncomfortable pinch in my chest I always do whenever confrontation might be brewing, and I shoot Andrew a look with what I hope has daggers in it. At the very least, flaming arrows.
“Andrew.” I nod at him. “Let me know about that meeting.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I move forward and offer Mrs. Hoffmeister my arm and help her up the steps and into the building. “I’ll be at your apartment in the morning.”
Once we’re in the building, she asks, “That your boyfriend?”
“Never in a million years.”
I ignore the way the words taste like a lie.
ChapterNine
Kenzie
Two days have passed since the evening Andrew and I met. I’m due to meet him and Bethaney at his office today at eleven to discuss the possibility of me being hired as the event planner for the law firm’s holiday party.
I have the usual nerves that are present before I meet any client, but there’s an extra layer of unease knowing Andrew will be in attendance. Which is stupid. The man is infuriating with his stoicism and disdain for the best time of the year. Not to mention, we couldn’t be more different. So why does the thought of seeing him make me feel giddy as if I have a schoolgirl crush?
With a deep breath, I step out of the elevator on the floor that Simons, Berns & Scofield occupies. As I expected, the atmosphere is posh with lots of walnut, glass, and brushed brass. I walk over to the receptionist and tell her I’m here to meet with Andrew Wainwright. The short, dark-haired girl directs me to the left and instructs me to follow the hall to the end, then take a right and keep going. I’ll find his assistant outside the office with his name on the door. Seriously, is he too important to come and get me? He probably told the receptionist he was too busy to be interrupted.
I’m wearing the Balmain sweater dress I purchased on a used clothes website last year. It’s been my lucky dress for first meetings with clients ever since I ate ramen noodles for an entire month due to the purchase price, but it was worth it. I fully subscribe to the “fake it until you make it” mantra. Dress for success, they say, but that’s only possible if you’re already successful, so a girl does what she needs to do to make it. I paired the monogram-jacquard knitted dress with my knee-high black suede boots. Finishing the look with a center part in my hair, straightened and pulled back into a low pony.
The look is mostly professional, part sexy, and says this is a woman who has her finger on the pulse of the city. A lot of my clients are always trying to one-up their frenemies with their own event, so it pays to have people think you’re ahead of the curve as to what’s hot and hip.
After wandering for a minute, I come upon a closed door with Andrew’s full name on a bronze plaque. A young brunette sits at the desk outside the office looking at her phone, frantically typing away with her thumbs.
I wait for her to notice me, but she doesn’t look up. She’s frowning and sighing at her phone as she reads the text on her screen. Since I don’t want to be late for this meeting, I clear my throat. She startles and her phone fumbles out of her grip.
“Sorry,” I say, offering a smile. “I’m here to see Mr. Wainwright.”
