I promised myself I'd never do this again. Never let another man get under my skin and into the soft parts I worked so hard to protect. Not after Daniel. Not after I rebuilt everything from scratch, told myself I didn't need anyone.
But then he solves a problem that's stumped me, and a traitorous voice whispers …This is nice.
Not having to do it all alone?
It's nice.
And just like that, the fragile spell shatters, blown to pieces by the familiar crackle of my best friend's voice, calling in from a castle in Scotland.
"Maddy! I'm so glad I caught you," Savvy says, her voice a mix of bliss and panic. "Henry has discovered Scottish historical auctions online. He's bidding on a suit of armor. He says it would be a commanding focal point for the barn. Please tell me you have a client emergency that requires my return before our home becomes a medieval tourist trap."
I laugh, the sound echoing in the barn's high ceilings. I glance up toward the loft. I can't see Mason, but I know he's there, and the thought that he can hear my side of this conversation sends a ridiculous, warm flutter through me.
"Tell Henry I'm drawing the line at jousting tournaments," I say. "But I can't help you. Things are surprisingly uneventful here."
"Uneventful? Maddy, your life hasn't been uneventful since you discovered glitter glue in kindergarten." There's a pause. "Is this because of Mason? Are you two behaving?"
"We are behaving with maximum professional courtesy," I say, picking my words with care.
"Uh-huh. Well, speaking of professionals, I need a huge favor." Her voice shifts, sliding into that silky tone she uses when she's about to ruin my life with a smile. "My friend from business school, Clara, is getting married. Or her boyfriend Ben is about to propose. He's a total romantic, but Clara ... Clara is a force of nature. She's a senior project manager at a huge tech company. Her life is a Gantt chart. I may have ... embellished your organizational skills."
I groan. "Savvy. What did you tell her?"
"I told her you were the most brilliant, creative, visionary proposal planner in New York State! Which is true!" she rushes. "I might have downplayed the improvisational nature of your methods. She's nervous, Maddy. She needs to see a blueprint. She needs to know there's a system behind the spectacle. Can you do that for me? Can you be systematic?"
The request is a cosmic joke.Be systematic.The quality I had railed against, the attribute personified by the man currently residing in my loft, is now my mission.
"I will be the picture of systematic, color-coded efficiency," I say, a new sense of determination clicking into place. I have to prove to Savvy's friend and maybe to myself that I can be more than a walking to-do list with emotional whiplash.
"Perfect!" Savvy says brightly. "She's on her way now."
My brain hiccups. "Wait, now? Like ... today now?"
"An hour. Maybe two. Depends on traffic." She says it like that's comforting. "But you've got this!"
Do I? No."Yep," I say, voice climbing a full octave. "Totally got this."
I hang up and stare at my phone like it's betrayed me. Then I glance toward the loft where Mason is, no doubt, organizing his files alphabetically by accident.
Systematic. Sure.
All I have to do is fake being someone who reads the instructions before starting the fog machine.
When Clara and Ben arrive, I feel a jolt of performance anxiety. Clara is exactly as Savvy described. Chic, composed, and radiating a level of competence that makes me instantly self-conscious. I see my workspace through her eyes, and suddenly it's not a curated creative zone.
It's a potential insurance liability.
Ben, on the other hand, is all warmth and quiet enthusiasm, the sort of man who believes in big dreams and fairy tales. His eyes shine with hope, and that hope lands like a weight on my chest. Because this isn’t any proposal. They’re inviting their parents to witness it. The whole moment is being framed as a symbolic start to the rest of their lives.
It can’t be beautiful. It has to be perfect.
I guide them to the consultation area, which I scrubbed and organized within an inch of its life. Mason’s made himself scarce in the loft. It’s better this way. I need to do this on my own. No Savvy. No Ivy. No net.
“Ben had this idea,” Clara says before he can speak. Her tone is pleasant but firm. “A forest clearing. Which is lovely in theory. But my first thoughts go to mud, insects, and unpredictable weather patterns.”
Ben’s face shifts enough to make me jump in, fast.
“An enchanted forest is one of my favorites!” I say, voice bright. “We can handle those concerns. But Ben, what does it feel like to you?”
