I read the text from my best friend twice before looking at the time to see it’s already past five. I drop my head to my desk with a soft thud, padded by the disarray of papers cluttering my workspace and determined to ruin me.

A second later, the phone on my desk rings. My shoulders fall. A throb erupts in my right temple. I take a deep breath and slowly release it with my greeting. “Glitter and Gold, this is Brooke.”

“I knew you’d answer your phone!” Felicity’s voice is filled with accusation.

“Your text literally just came in.”

“That was my warning shot.”

I shake my head and tilt the phone so she can’t hear my muffled laughter. “What are you doing?”

Felicity laughs, then stops. “Theo, don’t put your mouth on that!” She doesn’t bother to muffle the phone anymore. “Theo!”

I try to wait patiently. Force myself not to groan when I hear her offer Theo a dozen different toys in place of whatever he’s attempting to chew on and move my attention to the file I was inputting before she called.

“Dan texted.”

I mumble an understanding.

“He was asking about bringing a guy from work over for dinner tonight. What do you think?”

“Does Dan usually ask for permission to have playdates?”

“What? No. To meet you, you loon.”

“Felicity, no.”

“You don’t know anything about him.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Just look at his social media page,” Felicity tells me.

“No, thanks.” I shake my head, though she can’t see me. “I’m not interested.”

“You don’t need to be interested. You just need to at least be interested in being interested.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” I remind her.

“It’s been eight weeks,” she clarifies.

“And I’m buried in work.”

“You’re always buried in work and have been since you started working there. It’s been a decade.”

I drop my face into my palm. “You promised no blind dates.”

“Which is why I’m giving you a courtesy call.”

“This isn’t feeling like a courtesy call—it feels like an ambush.” My attention shifts back to sorting through the plethora of papers spread across my desk.

“Seriously, Brooke…” She remains silent for a moment, drawing my attention back to her.

“I just…” A dozen excuses bounce around my thoughts, reasons about how I’m not ready to kiss another guy or even meet one, let alone trust one.

“I’m not saying this guy is the one. I’m not even saying he’s going to be the first one you make out with, or sleep with, or anything else. But he does look like a nice guy, and he’s attractive and motivated and could be the first guy you at the least hang out with since your breakup. I promise, I would not—would not even entertain the idea—if this guy wasn’t a viable option.”

I catch sight of my lips teased into an unconscious smile as I move my attention to how dark it’s gotten outside. “What constitutes a viable option?” My voice is teasing but my question sincere.

“You know me, Brooke. My standards are higher than most, and you’re my best friend—my sister. I would not allow you to go out with any guy who doesn’t deserve you.”

I glance around my desk that’s piled high with various tasks I need to accomplish before heading home for the weekend and sigh.

“I appreciate you and how much you and Dan have done for me, but I’m just not ready. I don’t know when I’m going to be ready. Maybe in a few weeks we can discuss doing a double date with this guy, but right now my workload is ridiculous, and I don’t feel like I’m in the right place to meet a guy and give the best side of myself.”

“I’m still going to send you his name so you can look him up. And if you’re interested, we’ll have him over in a couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I release a deep breath. “But I have to let you go. I’ve got a thousand things I need to get done and not enough time or energy for half of them.”

“That’s because you’re almost thirty, old lady.” Felicity begins laughing before I can reply. Her words bring forth a dozen thoughts that sit heavily on my chest.

“You better watch it. I’ll lace your coffee creamer with laxatives.”

Felicity fires back, but I miss her response as Catherine enters my office already a dozen words into a conversation. Upon seeing my office phone pressed to my ear, Catherine pauses, a shadow of regret fleeting across her features.

“If you messaged the Wicked Witch so you could get off the phone…” Felicity begins, her voice set to a warning.

“That sounds great, Sandra,” I say, cutting my best friend off and pretending it’s a work acquaintance. “I’ll follow up with you early next week and see how things are progressing.”

“This doesn’t end our conversation!” Felicity cries. “And don’t forget we’re ordering Chinese tonight, and Gemma says it’s your week to pick the family movie.”

“Okay, sounds good. Bye, Sandra.” I hang up, turning my attention to my boss, who emailed me this morning to inform me she was working from home, which in her case often means going to get her nails or hair done.

“Was that Sandra with the floral company you like in uptown?” Catherine approaches my desk, the high heels of her shoes clapping against the wood floors of my office. Her cream-colored dress is stretched tight across her frame and plunges far below her gold drop necklace. As I had expected, her hair has been freshly bleached and blown out, and her long nails shine with red polish.

“It was,” I lie. “She thinks she can get the black orchids the Bellum wedding is looking for.”

Catherine shudders. “I can’t believe anyone would spend that kind of money for a gothic-themed wedding.”

While it pains me to agree with her, the skull centerpieces I ordered earlier this afternoon sent me over the same judgmental edge. What began as a classical wedding with elegant touches of black lace and medieval candelabras now has the same feel as an expensive and elaborate Halloween party. “You should see the vases she chose for them to go in.”

Catherine crinkles her nose. “Why do people hire us to plan an event for them and then meddle with every single detail?”

It’s even more painful to agree with her a second time.

“I wanted to come by and see how things were going with the bar mitzvah for the Abergals. I haven’t seen a deposit from them yet. Were you able to close the deal?”

I rack my brain, working to place the Abergal family. Over the past two months, we’ve gone from having a staff of twelve to eight, one of which still includes Serena, who has continued to drop things and create more work for all of us.

“The family who came in last week. The ones who wanted a location with a water fountain…” Catherine’s tone is condescending and impatient as she grips her hip, making her red nails even more prominent against the contrast of her light dress.

“Of course,” I say, turning to my keyboard and entering their name. “I sent them a list with three venues that have water fountains as well as plenty of parking for their large guest list, and all are within distance for James to cater the event.”

Catherine pauses, her eyes rounding with consideration. “James Fells? The Kosher chef?”

I nod.

“That was a smart detail to consider.” If I didn’t know how benign and often forgotten her compliments are, I might smile. Instead, I wait for her next question.

“That client who was in yesterday…” She shifts her weight, standing taller.

I glance at my calendar, tracing my schedule from the previous day.

“The one with the dark hair and suit. What was he in here for?”

I brush back my long bangs and open my notes from yesterday’s calendar. “Oh, a company event,” I tell her, glancing over the details I’d typed up. “His name’s Ben Holland, and he’s having a five-year anniversary party for his company. He wants to rent a dinner cruise ship.”

“Really?” She doesn’t look at me as she poses the question, instead glances around my desk. “Why don’t I take that one from you? I know how busy you’ve been and don’t want you feeling overwhelmed.”

I stifle my smile with a forced cough before taking a long drink of tea that went cold hours ago. “Are you sure?” I try my best to sound concerned. I’m surprised she’s waited this long to come poach him. Regardless of her age, Catherine is always anxious and willing to assist with the attractive male clients.

“Of course,” she tells me. “In fact, I insist.”

“Okay. I appreciate it. I’ll reassign this file to you and ensure I have all of his contact information in the notes we discussed yesterday.”

“Wonderful.” Catherine’s brow furrows as she looks across my desk. “What happened to your pictures of Gabe?”

Since our breakup, I’ve elected to ignore numerous messages from friends I met through my ex, leaving him to explain that we’re no longer together. And though Grammy still hasn’t clarified with me that we broke up, she knows I’m staying with Felicity. My brother, Brandon, was the first person I had to tell when he texted me with an invitation for Gabe and me to attend a barbecue. I’m fairly certain he was as shocked as I was. And though it’s gotten easier to tell people Gabe and I are no longer together, the question still occasionally catches me off guard—like now.

“We actually … aren’t … together … anymore.”

Like many whom I’ve told, Catherine’s eyes round with surprise. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” she says. “How are you doing?”

I nod, hating this question most. “Fine.” My voice comes out too high and chipper, and I’m sure she thinks I’m lying. “It was the best decision for both of us,” I add. I hate admitting that I had no say in the matter.

Catherine surveys my desk a final time. “Well, if you need anything…”

I shake my head. “I appreciate it. Truly I do, but I’ve never been better. Honest.”

Catherine tilts her head to the side. “I’m glad to hear that.” Before she reaches the door, she spins around on one heel. “I forgot,” she says. “My trainer recommended I try the new paleo diet. Would you be a dear and collect some books and recipes for things I’d like to eat? You know my tastes.”

Unfortunately, I do. This isn’t the first time I’ve been tasked with finding recipes for one of her new diets. “Sure.”

Catherine smiles and pivots, leaving me with another task I don’t have time for.