Page 48 of The Plus One Professional
A message popped up on the screen. It was from my little sister.
Birdie:Traffic was crazy. Just pulling up now. Reinforcements are here! What do you need?
I glanced around once more before responding. Everything was… perfect.
Me:All good here. You can check-in and change. No rush.
After meeting with Miranda, I’d rushed back to the room, grabbed a quick shower, and got ready in the bathroom. I’d told Cole what time the cocktail hour started and where it was, in case he wanted to come, but I also said it was fine if he wanted to skip it.
When I’d walked out of the bathroom, his eyes had lit up the same way they had when he’d seen me sitting on his front stoop. I was wearing the same style of dress, except this one was floral printed instead of white. I wondered if maybe it was one he liked. They both had spaghetti straps, form-fitting bodices, flowy skirts, and ended just above my knee. I’d always thought the style was romantic and suited my curves. Simon told me they reminded him of something a peasant would wear in a fairytale.
“Bay.”
Speak of the devil. I heard my name—well, the name Simon called me—and I felt my stomach drop. I turned around and saw him standing beneath an oak tree that had lanterns hanging from it. He was alone, wearing a button-down black shirt and gray slacks. His sandy blond hair was perfectly styled. Not a single strand was out of place in his signature just-rolled-out-of-bed, messy locks. His strong jaw was clean-shaven, which I always preferred because, when there wasn’t the distraction of stubble, his big, brown eyes stole the show. Which is exactly what they did now.
He was handsome, objectively. I still found him attractive, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel attracted to him. The usual zip-zang-zing that always occurred when I was near Simon didn’t happen as I stood just a few feet away from him.
I wasn’t sure if the change was due to the fact that he was engaged and about to be a married man. Or if it was the side effect of spending the better part of the day with Cole and my hormones were exhausted from being on high alert.
I’d had to hold in several sneezes today. One, when he picked me up and helped me with my bags, it was his hands; they were so large and manly. Whenever I saw them, I wondered what they would feel like on my body. The second sneeze was suppressed during the drive when he’d reached over and placed his arm across me when the car in front of us slammed on their brakes. Even though the situation had been scary, I’d never felt safer in my life. And the third time I’d swallowed a sneeze was when we were in the room, and he’d brushed a strand of hair off my face and told me to let him know if I needed anything. The look in his eyes nearly had me blurting out that I needed him to kiss me.
Simon surveyed the courtyard with his trademark assessing gaze. It was a look I was all too familiar with. He’d had it even on the first day I’d met him. I’m not sure if he developed it as a child or if being born into a family of billionaires meant he had it from birth, but by the time he was seventeen, he exuded an air of superiority.
“Thank you so much for doing this. Everything looks perfect.”
“Sure, yeah, no, absolutely. Miranda and her team are amazing.” They actually were. I wasn’t just saying that.
He took a step toward me, and I felt the familiar flutter in my heart that happened every time he was within a ten-foot radius of me. It wasn’t the zip-zang-zing, but it was something. “I’ve wanted to get a moment alone to talk to you. I stopped by your apartment and the shop, but you weren’t there.”
“Why didn’t you just call?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I think maybe I thought you wouldn’t answer or want to talk to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends.” I’m youroldestfriend.
He nodded. “I know, but I just think…all of this must have come as a shock to you. I mean, the last time I saw you?—”
“Matty! I’ve been looking all over for you! I thought you were taking a call.” Devin’s legs appeared endless as she strolled toward us with the confidence, style, beauty, and grace of a model on a catwalk during Paris Fashion Week.
Simon and I both remained silent as she joined us.
She glanced between us, her expression curious. “Was I interrupting something?”
“No.” I rushed to assure her.
“We were just catching up,” Simon explained curtly.
His assurance didn’t sound quite as, well, assuring as mine.
“I’m going to go check on the kitchen to make sure everything is ready.” I made my escape quickly and didn’t look back as I walked as fast as my average-length legs could take me.
My speed was fueled by my desire to put as much distance between Simon and me as possible. I hated that I was still affected by that man. He was getting married. I was his wedding planner. There should be no pitter-pattering of hearts.
As emotions I had no business feeling tried to break through the barriers I’d put up, I mentally placed a pillow over their faces and suffocated them. This weekend was not the time to grieve my relationship with him. This weekend was all about survival.
After confirming with the kitchen that the appetizers and hors d'oeuvres were trayed and ready to be circulated, I gave myself a quick inner pep talk, one that included Grandpa Bill’s favorite saying, “Life is tough, but so are you. Suck it up, Buttercup.”
Armed with my grandpa’s motto as a shield, I walked back into the corridor off the lobby at the same time Cole entered it. He wore black slacks and a charcoal gray button-down that clearly had been tailored to fit him perfectly. The color complemented his dark hair and navy eyes. He was wearing the exact opposite of what Simon was, which struck me as fitting since the two men could not be any more different.
