“Did I hear right? You have a box of skulls in here?” Catherine asks, appearing in my office in a red pantsuit.

I grin, pointing to the stack of boxes in the far corner of my office. “They’re for the Bellum wedding.”

“Are they atrocious?”

I shrug. “They wouldn’t be my first choice, but I did manage to convince them to get the ones without the fake blood—so we’ll call it a win.”

She frowns as she pulls her chin back. “Fake blood?”

“It was worse than it sounds,” I say as she goes to open the top box, revealing one of the skulls.

“That looks too real.” She folds the flaps of the box so it’s closed, a shiver jolting her shoulders. “Remind me to give you a raise after this wedding. You’ll have earned it.”

I sit up straight, my ears perked at the promise of earning more money. Though Felicity has assured me she’s in no hurry for me to move out, I’ve been looking at apartments and condos all around the city. As my finances currently stand, I can’t afford to live within forty miles of work, which has left tension in my stomach that stirs when I focus on it and remains even when I don’t. Catherine has never tossed around words like this—generally, she just gives me a small raise at the end of each year—and since I received a 2 percent raise just four months ago, I’m shocked she’s mentioning the possibility of more.

“Also, I need you to find something for my sister. Her birthday’s next week, and I’m supposed to be attending her party. I don’t want to spend more than a hundred dollars, but I want it to look like I spent more.”

My thoughts of being able to afford living closer fade with her words. Likely, Catherine will offer me a half a percent raise if I’m lucky. “Last year we bought her the wine of the month subscription, right?”

“We?” Catherine hitches her eyebrows. I notice her eyes are red in the corners, subtle hints of her drinking habits. It has me briefly considering if Levi knows and if there’s a correlation to him owning bars.

I ignore her dig with a regretful smile. “How about some makeup? I have a friend who works at a beauty store and can give you a discount.”

She leans against my desk, drumming her fingers against her chin. “I don’t know. My sister’s never worn much makeup. What else?”

It seems appropriate to mention I’ve only met her sister, Marge, a handful of times and am far from qualified to be selecting her birthday gift, but like all refutes I have with my boss, I swallow it. “I recall she really liked tea. What about some fancy teas and a nice tea kettle?”

“A tea kettle?”

“Tea drinkers swear it tastes different.”

Catherine rolls her eyes dramatically. “They would.” She shakes her head. “We can discuss it later. How are things going with the Gilbert wedding?”

“Everything seems to be on schedule. I’ll follow up with Selena this afternoon to double-check everything.”

She nods. “Yes, and make sure you also check on the flowers that were ordered. I saw she wants everything to be white except for the purple tulips, and I don’t want to have another Santos wedding, where the petals were all browning.”

The memory makes me frown. That wedding nearly cost me my job. Everything that could have gone wrong did, and they were sure to tell Catherine about it. “Absolutely.” I jot a note on my desk calendar to give them a call. “Anything else?”

“How are things with the bar? I know you haven’t done a grand opening in a while.”

I take a deep breath. “The contractor has everything torn up, but we’re moving forward with planning the theme, choosing the surrounding business owners we want to personally invite, and selecting the right details for the outside. I’m going to introduce Levi to Chelsea later this week.”

Catherine nods. “Good choice. I like Chelsea’s work. She has an eye for luxury and small details, like you.” She slides her hand across the edge of my desk. “Just be sure to follow up frequently with my son. He tends to forget about things or assume it will just miraculously happen.”

I stare at her, wondering if she realizes the latter is a trait he definitely would have inherited from her. “I’ll give him a call this morning.”

She gives me a final nod and steps out of my office, hovering in the doorway. “Also, when you have a moment, I could really use a large coffee.” She leaves.

“Also,” I quietly mock. I hate that word. No one uses it as much as Catherine, and it’s always tagged with another task.

I grab my phone and purse and head toward the front of the office, passing by Andrea. “Can I get you anything at the coffee shop?” I ask.

Her shoulders jump. “You startled me.” She attempts to smile, but her lips teeter and then totter before ending up in a frown. “I’m okay. Thanks though.”

I give her a tight-lipped smile and head out. A breeze blows across my skin, tickling it and pulling my hair so that air touches the back of my neck. As my heels click along the sidewalk, I scroll through my contacts, stopping on Chelsea’s name.

“Brooke!” she answers, her voice loud with enthusiasm. “It’s been too long. How are you? Has Catherine been keeping you locked up in that box you call an office again?”

A smile teases my lips. I don’t dare criticize Catherine to anyone outside of my family or Felicity—she’s far too connected and well known in multiple circles that if I were to, I have no doubt it would get back to her. “How are you?”

“You know me. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. What’s up with you?”

“I’m calling to see if I can be one of the things on your calendar,” I tell her. “Catherine’s son is opening a bar, and I was hoping we could sign you on for helping with the interior design.”

“Catherine has a son?”

“Mmhmm. Two of them.”

“I had no idea. What’s he like? Is he bossy and controlling like she is?”

“He’s nice,” I say fleetingly.

“Nice? Is Catherine near you?”

I laugh. “No. He really seems like a good guy.”

“I wouldn’t think that could be possible.”

Chelsea is near my age, give or take a couple of years. I’ve only worked with her a few times, but she’s been in and out of the office numerous times over the past few years since moving here from New York and starting her business, which became successful practically overnight thanks to her knowledge and steadfast attitude with all things.

“It will be a tight turnaround,” I tell her. “We only have seven weeks.”

“What does it need?”

“…everything.”

“Everything?” she shrieks. “Brooke, I didn’t know you hated me!”

“I’ll owe you big.”

“Damn straight you will. Okay, when can I see the place?”

“Whenever you have availability.”

“Today,” she says.

“Today?”

“Today. How about in two hours?”

“I’ll make it happen. I’ll text you the address, and I’ll see you then.”

My pursuit to the coffee shop is halted. I stand in a shaded spot on the sidewalk, people milling past me, glaring as I create a human speed bump. I call Levi, my heart ramping. I reason it’s due to the sudden deadline. “You survived the weekend,” he says, his voice rumbly.

“Did I wake you?” I ask, glancing at my watch.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I needed to be up anyway.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Are you calling to schedule some times for us to meet?”

“Actually, I’m calling to see if you can meet me at your new bar in two hours to meet a designer who I think you’ll like.”

“Two hours?”

“I know. I’m really sorry for the short warning.”

“How many favors are you going to owe her?” he asks, surprising me.

I sigh. “It’s no big deal.”

“I’ll be there in two hours,” he confirms.

“Thank you!”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I just know that sudden appointments can interfere with plans.”

“Hasn’t my mother taught you anything? Be fierce. You did this as a favor to me, not vice versa. Wait for me to thank you and then tell me how hard you worked and lay a trail of guilt.”

I chuckle. “You’re welcome, and I don’t play my cards until necessary, like if you propose we keep the chandeliers or install shag carpet.”

“I’ll see you in two hours so I can pick out my new gold shag carpet.”

“See you then.”

We’re both silent for several seconds, and then I lower my phone and press End.

I’m not interested.

I’m not interested.

I’m not interested.

My reminder is like a chant as I resume my trip to get Catherine some coffee.

Catherine’s on the phone when I return with her large drip coffee and my soy mocha. I leave her drink on her desk and quickly head to my office to pack things up. “Andrea, I’m going to be with a client for a few hours. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back. If you see Selena, could you please let her know I emailed her?”

Andrea pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and grabs a pen. “Do you need a response from her today?”

“Yes, please.”

She nods. “I’ve got it. I’ll be sure to let her know.”

“Thank you.”

I’d prefer to drive, but with the afternoon traffic that will only become more congested with time, I opt to take to the L train. It’s busy, like everything in Chicago. I take a seat next to a couple of sightseers who make themselves obvious as the husband tightly grips a guidebook. He mutters something to his wife, but I doubt she hears him; she’s preoccupied with glancing around the train, her fingers clutching her purse. I sit back and drink my coffee, reading over a response I recently received on my blog post about Buti yoga. It’s both invigorating and strange to know someone has read the column.

“Excuse me,” the husband says from beside me. “Are you a local?”

I nod. “What can I help you with?”

He smiles and elbows his wife. “See. They’re not all rude,” he tells her before turning back to me. “My wife and I are from Iowa.” He pauses as though waiting for me to comment.

I don’t because the only memory I have of Iowa is a negative one. I’d been maybe five, and my parents had taken me across the border to meet a friend of theirs who owned a large family farm. I don’t remember much from the first day except I was excited to see all the animals they had. Turned out they also owned over a hundred acres of cornfields, and they showed me how monarch butterflies fed off the milkweed plants that grew between the stalks like weeds. My parents and their friends began listening to music and started a giant bonfire in the backyard. I didn’t like the music, and the plumes of smoke less, and the way no one regarded me even less. I began following fireflies, which led me into the tall stalks of the cornfield, where I made a game. Within the walls of the stalks, I created my own pretend house. House was my favorite game, and this area was expansive, with paths that led in all directions. Unfortunately, the turns and paths all began looking the same, and I couldn’t remember which way was out. I was lost in the labyrinth of a cornfield overnight.

“We’re trying to see the Museum of Science and Industry,” the husband continues. “Do you know the best route to get there? And is it really worth seeing? I know these tour books are all paid by the attractions. This place is so dirty and overpriced I don’t know why anyone chooses to stay here. Plus, the violence here. I had to make sure our will and finances were up to date in case we got shot.” His snarky tone and mention of the science museum have my thoughts traveling to Levi. I don’t know Levi well enough to assume what he does or doesn’t like, and yet instinctually I’m certain he’d hate this man. Levi has a love for this city I haven’t experienced in too long—or maybe have just forgotten to appreciate.

“The museum is a pillar in the city. You should definitely go and see it. There are many attractions in it, and if you don’t make it to all of them, it’s okay because it’s free to go.”

“Free?” the wife asks, her eyebrows perched high over the rim of her glasses.

I nod, regretful that I wasn’t able to think of a classy rebuttal for his view of the city. I go on to tell them which stop they’re going to take because the wife has become overly enthusiastic and the husband has grown increasingly overwhelmed.

I stand as the train comes to a stop.

“Thanks for your help, dear,” the wife calls. “I keep telling him this city isn’t full of criminals.”

I glance around, noticing some raised eyebrows, a couple of deep frowns, and handful of smirks she’s receiving from fellow passengers.

“You’re in Chicago. Put your tour books away and enjoy it.”

The air is cooler today but comfortable as I set off in the direction of the bar.

When I reach the street corner it’s tucked away on, I notice Chelsea out front. Her dark hair is curled, shining in the afternoon sun. She screams of confidence and accomplishments, and her clothes only accentuate the fact, completed with a tall pair of gold heels. I’m about to call out to her when I notice Levi is in front of her, holding the door open.

My heart constricts and then squeezes when she smiles at him, placing a hand on his arm.

I remind myself I don’t have room to be jealous as I make my way to the bar. That this was my decision and that it might even be better if they do share a spark.

They both turn as I swing the door open, and Levi’s gaze meets mine. Silence stretches for several seconds as silent questions and assurances pass between us, ones I shouldn’t be asking and he shouldn’t be seeing.

“Thanks for meeting us on such short notice, Chelsea,” I say.

She smiles widely. “It was my pleasure.” She glances to Levi. “I’m thrilled for this opportunity. Tell me, do you have an idea of how you’d like this place to look? The feeling you want people to experience when they come inside?” She leans closer, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

She’s interested in him.

“I have a few ideas,” Levi says, leaning back on his heels before looking at me.

“What about you, Brooke?” Chelsea asks.

I raise my eyebrows as I pull open my laptop so I can start making notes. “Ummm…” I clear my throat. “I’m just here to plan the grand opening, not the bar itself.”

“Sure, but which bars around town do you like most?”

I press my lips together. “I don’t actually go out that often.”

She giggles, swinging her attention back to Levi. “You’re such a homebody. How do you not know of the it spots in town? You’re an event planner.”

I could argue. Tell her I know of every venue, even many of the nontraditional ones, but that seems as petty as her insult. “Apparently, I’m not very in.”

Chelsea giggles again. “Are you sure you should be hosting the grand opening?”

My shoulders bristle, and my stomach turns sour. I know she’s only insulting me as some ridiculous and random attempt to flirt with Levi. As though my being inferior to her prowess will make her sexier, smarter, and more alluring. However, her comment feels personal. I’ve known Chelsea for several years. I’ve referred other professionals and clients to her. I’ve introduced her to others who helped make her business a streamlined and successful entity.

I want to point out that she’s come to me for help far more times that I’ve gone to her and see how giggly and confident she is then. Instead, I try my best to appear impassive and give her a rehearsed response that will end the conversation. “This will be an impressive event, and we’re taking every measure to ensure the fact.”

Levi smiles. “I want this place to remain elegant and full of class, but I want it to have a vibe of the south side.”

Chelsea pulls her chin back. “People don’t dress up and spend twenty dollars on a drink to feel like they’re in the south side of town.” She smiles—her confidence shines as bright as the diamond pendant hanging at her neck. She’s unapologetic as she stares at Levi, waiting for him to agree.

I suck in a breath, my heart beating a rhythm that reminds me of the stadium before the baseball game. The crowd had been pumped, ready for their idols to step out onto the field—they wanted to cheer them directly into a victory. I want Levi to tell her how she’s wrong, though I fear she’s right.

“We can discuss the details later. Right? This is just an initial meeting so we can get on each other’s calendars, am I right?” He flashes a grin.

Chelsea flashes a bright smile that accentuates her perfect lips and perfect nose and perfect eyes. Even her cheeks are perfect and don’t make her look squinty when she’s smiling like mine do. Damn. She flips her long, glossy hair over one shoulder, and the image of Gabe having sex on our bed stabs through my thoughts of jealousy and annoyance, making my heart and breath stutter. I blink away the image and stare at Chelsea for several seconds, suddenly capable of seeing her being the woman I’d walked in on. I know she wasn’t. I would have recognized her at the time, yet each time my eyelids close, it’s her I see.

“That’s correct,” Chelsea says, grabbing her phone. “Let me open my calendar now, and we’ll set up some dates.”

I could suggest I attend their meetings. I’ve done so with previous clients when they’ve hired a designer. However, doing so would only confirm jealousy is running through my veins at this time, and I’m not ready to admit that—not even to myself.

“You know, I’m attending a fundraiser this Friday. It’s for homeless women and children, and I have an extra ticket. You could be my date. They’re always so long and boring.” She rolls her eyes. “We could discuss your bar and look over some samples.”

“You’re going to bring samples to a fundraising dinner?” I ask before I can apply sense and stop myself.

Chelsea’s sea-colored eyes snap to me, and then she smiles. It’s friendly and beautiful, like she is, reminding me of why I’ve referred so many to her. She’s easy to get along with, professional, and does one hell of a job. Maybe I’m reading into this. Maybe she’s not flirting with Levi. She moves her gaze to Levi and giggles. “Probably only ones on my phone, but it would be a great chance to spend some time together so I can get a feel for what you like and don’t like.”

“I’ll have to see if I can get the night off,” Levi says. “Friday nights have been crazy for us at our new club, but I think I can get someone to pull a double.”

“That would be fantastic.” Chelsea beams.

Fan-fucking-tastic.