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“Do you want another cuppa?” I hear Nora shout from the kitchen. I shout my “yes” in response, but in reality, by the time she emerges with it, I’m almost half asleep.
“Do you think the hotel will have a space for us to hold the first charity event?” Nora asks, sipping her hot tea and cursing at how hot it is. The Clover is a boutique, art deco style hotel, sitting about a mile from Covent Garden, where I’ve worked at since we moved back to London. I landed my dream job there as the events manager and I’ve never been happier.
I yawn loudly, my body feeling heavy as I exhale. “I’ll check the calendar tomorrow.” I yawn again. “I think there might be an open weekend coming up, but I have no idea how much time we need to plan something like this. I’m hoping Zoey doesn’t mind being a third wheel in all this because I’m going to be blowing her phone up.”
Speaking of blowing up phones, my phone buzzes next to me, a familiar face lighting up my screen. I stifle a grumble. I’m tired and want to go to bed but I can’t keep ignoring his calls anymore. I glide my finger across my screen, answering him after a few rings.
12
Jessica
Overthenextfewdays after Zoey helped me set up my charity, which was actually embarrassingly easy, and since then, we’ve been focussed on the first big event we are going to throw to raise money.
I was right, the ballroom in The Clover is free in three weeks’ time which is tight, but not impossible. Or so Zoey tells me.
I’m in my element organising it; picking flowers, décor, music, invitations, liaising with companies to buy tables from us. Organising and detailing events is my bread and butter, which is why I made sure I had these jobs on our list. That, and I’ve had years of experience doing this for work.
Just as I’m sitting in my office at work, I hear my phone buzz.
Zoey:I just met with the chef at your restaurant, who by the way, you have been hiding from me girl. He is all kinds of fine! Anyway, we talked over the menu, and it is all organised. I know you were doing amazing, but I saw on your google list that was an outstanding to do. I hope it’s okay that I helped you out xo
Jess:You are a lifesaver, Zoey! Thank you. As for Jake, I can confirm he is single. I will put in a good word for you, but you can’t scare him off. He is amazing!
Zoey:He is seriously the whole package, and he cooks! Make me swoon already! I’m hoping to run into him casually again soon so expect to see lots of me at your office xo
I laugh at her reply. I don’t know Jake very well yet; he’s new to the hotel, but he’s made a great impression with his innovative ideas and creative menus. I make a mental note to mention Zoey to him because, God knows, someone deserves to have a successful love life around here.
My afternoon is filled with meeting brides and grooms to be. I’m an expert at selling the space in the hotel for weddings. That happily ever after that can start right here in our contemporary ballroom that boasts 3,200 square feet of space.
Technically, I manage all events here, but it seems the hotel’s revenue for weddings has increased 90% since I came on board three years ago, which has meant the staff like to call me the wedding planner. A job title that I never thought I’d be good at. It seems I can sell the idea of forever but can’t keep hold of it myself.
In between meetings, I desperately try and tick a few more things from my to do list for the event. I call the florist who we use regularly and order white roses and eucalyptus, then the agent for the live band who also frequents here. As luck would have it, they’re in town that weekend and apart from rehearsals, they are available and willing to donate their time and talent for free.
By the time my working day is done I’m about ready to collapse into my bed. But then I remember that I have a date tonight. Evan called last night, and I’d already missed three calls from him. Right now, I realise the error of my ways because I’m exhausted and do not want to go out for dinner. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to go out to dinner withhim. We don’t usually go out on dates. We’ve kept things casual for the last couple of months and we’ve only ever had one date, which ended up back at his place, anyway. Since then, we’ve had a few hook-ups but nothing serious.
Story of my life. But I was surprised he wanted to go on a date, surprised enough to say yes.
The black pencil dress I threw on this morning is a bit more crinkled than I’d like it to be for a date, but I don’t have time to go home and change. I reach into my handbag and pull out a few make up items, touching up my lipstick and powdering my face again.
That’ll have to do. Sorry Evan.
An hour later, I’m walking into one of Soho’s fanciest restaurants. Dimly lit for ambience, the tables are lined with the kind of cotton that my bedsheets could only dream of and bottles of Cristal decorate almost every table. The entire place reeks of money and wealth, the smell lingering in the air as I’m ushered to the table where Evan is already sitting. His hair coiffed perfectly and suit crisp as always, he doesn’t look out of place in this restaurant, but I certainly do with my crinkled dress and dark bags under my eyes.
“Hey sugar, where you been? I feel like I’ve not heard from you in forever, I’m surprised you answered my call.” His lilting northern accent always sounds a little stronger when I don’t see him for a while. He stands and pulls my chair out for me, reminding me of his manners and that he is actually a decent guy. But he’s not the guy for me, he’s just convenient. I almost hate myself for admitting it, but I’d hate being strung along even more if I were him and that’s exactly what I feel like I’ve been doing.
That being said, I’ve been on enough dates from stupid apps, that I’ve since deleted from my phone, to know that men rarely pull out a chair for you.
“Hey, Evan,” I say as brightly as I can manage, taking the seat he pulled out for me. I avoid his eye contact initially, feeling bad about ghosting him. In my defence, I’ve been dealing with the aftermath of an intense therapy session and a crazy work week, and then the charity stuff… it left me feeling overwhelmed and that meant my headspace for anything else was a bit all over the place.
“Sorry… work has been insane this week,” I half-lie, all too easily omitting the therapy part and the part where I just didn’t fancy seeing him.
“I miss you,” he whines, his brown eyes intent on holding my attention.
I already know that he means he misses me in his bed. Because that’s what this is, which is probably why I feel so twitchy, sat with my crumpled dress in a fancy restaurant; it’s not our usual vibe. I offer him a small smile, shifting my weight in my chair.
“So… how have you been?” I ask, moving my empty wine glass a fraction to the left and then back again, still trying to avoid his unyielding gaze.
“I’ve been good. Working, keeping busy. You know how it is.” He shrugs his suited shoulders. “What’s going on with you?” He tips his finger, getting the attention of a waiter and orders us a bottle of white wine before waiting for my answer.
