“I NEED YOUR help.”

No Hello, Hailey. How’s your day going? Just cut right to the chase.

“Connor, so lovely to hear from you. How is your day going?”

“Horrible. You need to fix this.” Connor breezed right past the sarcasm and circled back around to him needing something.

“Really, because, since it’s a Tuesday, my day is going pretty well.” I glanced at the flashing cursor on my screen where my day definitely wasn’t going well. “Since it’s a work day for those of us with real jobs.”

“Oh, please. My job is as real as yours and I work with people who aren’t imaginary.” He paused, probably to let his point sink in as if it would bother me. “Now, you need to help me fix this or I’m never going to recover.”

I was beginning to think something might actually be wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m home, one of the first times in weeks I just get to be home and chill out.” He was talking fast and if I wasn’t mistaken, pacing. “I just want to relax, watch some boxing, have a beer. Right?”

“Okay, and?”

“And…you’ve ruined it. You and that old, broken in leather chair and comfy little apartment.” He actually sounded mad. “I’m sitting on my seven-thousand-dollar couch that the designer woman said fit my décor and can’t get comfortable.”

“Again, okay, and?”

“And you need to fix it. I’m going to be there in thirty minutes.”

“How exactly am I going to fix this?”

“You’re my girlfriend. You shop, pick out a chair. I hand over money. Everyone’s happy.” I could hear a zipper and knew he was pulling on his jacket. Then a door. Then an elevator ding.

“I’m sorry. I’m in London.” Or my pajamas. One or the other.

“You’re in London?” He sounded suspicious.

“Yes. London. Jetted off last night. Harry just couldn’t stand us being apart any longer. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Please tell Catherine I’m sorry and make sure Dex doesn’t go too hard on her.”

“Right. How is the prince?”

“Excellent. I find him very attractive. That must be how I’m wired.”

“Uh huh.” Conner answered before I heard him hailing a cab.

“So, I need to go. It’s dinner time here.”

“Sure, Hails. No problem. See you when you get back.” He hung up without another word and I went to take a shower knowing it would take all of fifteen minutes to get here by cab at this time of day.

I couldn’t understand why he didn’t believe me. Harry and I would be perfect for one another.

* * *

We passed down the tiny furniture salon I hadn’t even known existed before Connor called someone to call someone to make us an appointment to view the furniture.

View furniture. This world of his was absurd.

After sitting in yet another ridiculously-priced chair, he turned to me, frustrated, and demanded I sit in it.

“It’s just not…I don’t know. What’s wrong with it?” He asked looking at the chair as if it had purposefully offended him.

“Nothing. It’s very comfortable.” And expensive.

“I think it’s too small. It’s like it’s built for short people.” He eyed my feet comfortably resting on the floor. “See? Short people chair.”

“Um, no. I’m not tiny.” I rested my head back enjoying the supreme comfort while he paced around the chair. “My feet managed to reach the ground in every chair.”

“I know!” He stopped and checked the chair out once more. “What if I buy you this chair and I take the one at your house?”

“You want my chair? Again, um, no.” That was my chair and I earned it by putting up with an overbearing, pain in the rear ex.

“Yes, but you’d get this chair.” He smiled, and I realized that not too long from now he’d also be an overbearing, pain in the rear ex.

But, still, no.

“You can’t have my chair. It’s already broken in and I like it. But,” I said, watching him go from disappointed to hopeful. “I’ll bring you to somewhere that you can get a chair you like.”

And won’t cost several thousand dollars.

“Really?” He sounded intrigued.

Without even asking where we were going, he called for another cab, thanked the sales woman, and dragged me out to the sidewalk to wait.

Apparently, this was a chair emergency.

We drove out to Jordan’s, a beautiful, huge showroom of a furniture palace where normal people bought comfortable chairs every day.

Two hours, forty-three autographs, and six different chairs later, Connor had a flawlessly comfortable leather chair. There was no viewing, just a whole lot of sitting. Like normal people.