“We’re not even in the same city. I’m in the process of moving back to NY and Emerson still lives in San Francisco. Plus, we’re only friends,” Nolan insists. He points to me, diverting the convo. “Finish the scene for E. What happens next to our guy?”
TJ just shrugs. “Some scenes you just have to write out to know how to resolve them.”
And I suppose that’s true. Because as we run, I try to picture walking into the bakery and seeing Bellamy, and I have no idea what to expect.
25
Cake, Olive Branches, and Confessions
Before I leave my brownstone office for Piece of Cake, I check my email. A message from my social media manager tells me we’ve had some mentions.
That can’t be good, so I hop over to Twitter. The Carpe Diem feed is stuffed with replies that make my day go pear-shaped.
-What a bunch of elitist garbage.
* * *
-Who cares what rich fucks do?
* * *
-Not like I was ever gonna buy a fancy watch, or a ridic perfume, since, ya know, I was never gonna score an invite to one of their parties.
* * *
Groaning, I drag a hand down my face. Sure, the parties come with a fee, but I’m not asking for country club dues. The price is reasonable.
But I know better than to defend myself online. Everyone knows you can’t argue with Twitter.
Twitter always has the last word.
Trouble is, I’ve built a solid, trustworthy business that I manage personally. My reputation matters, and a couple of errant comments can snowball.
Worse, they can worry business partners.
Like Victoire.
Because Ms. Damon emails, wanting to chat. Dreaded words.
From my office, I call her right away. “Hello, hello, Angeline. What can I do for you?”
“Easton, level with me. Should I be worried that these kinds of negative comments are going to be an ongoing issue?”
Well, I’m worried, but I don’t let on. “I don’t think it will, Ms. Damon. I take the brand and the business quite seriously. There will always be some who don’t like what I do, but our reputation is solid and strong.”
“Then let’s focus on some press that shows the power of the personal touch,” she says. “I’ll put you in touch with my PR team.”
“That would be great, and I’ll come up with something too. This is my issue to solve, and I plan to do just that.”
“Glad to hear.”
We say goodbye, and I exhale sharply.
I’ve got to fix this.
Some romances need a little extra effort to save, just like this deal with Victoire. How to do that, though, is the question.
As I leave and walk to the cake shop to meet Bellamy, an idea starts to form.
It’s only the start of an idea and still leaves me feeling unsettled. If I don’t tamp my emotions before I get to the shop, I’ll come off irritable and frosty. I don’t want to head in guns blazing when I plan to ask Bellamy for something.
When I see her inside, seated at a table, it’s like she’s radiating sunshine and sparkling rainbows.
What the hell? Is she happy about the Twitter reaction?
I can’t get a read on her, and that’s before she stands and draws me in for a hug.
Mmm. That’s unexpected but so very nice. Her honeysuckle scent flirts with my senses, and I forget what had me so annoyed. Who the hell cares when she smells this good? One embrace and she’s disarmed me.
She lets go. “First of all, I wanted to thank you,” she says, and there’s not a shred of ire in her demeanor.
“For what?” We sit, and I try to focus on business and cleaning up the toxic social media spill.
“You know . . . what you said the other day after we were in the studio?” she prompts.
“I said a lot of things on the phone that night.” I’m still unclear where we’re going.
“What you noticed.” She scans the shop and lowers her voice. “About David.”
His name seems difficult for her to say, and my Spidey senses tingle. “I remember.”
She fiddles with a pen on the table, picking it up then setting it down. “I met with Bryn yesterday. She does some consulting for The Dating Pool. And, to make a long story short, I wasn’t the only woman there who was experiencing those . . . issues with him.”
Oh, hell. I sit up straighter, tension whipping through me, but hope too. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“When I spoke to Bryn about what had happened, she said another woman had complained earlier this week too. Well, Bryn took matters into her own hands.” Her eyes are shining, but her voice is strong. “And . . . he resigned this morning.”
She lets out the biggest sigh in Manhattan, her face the picture of relief. “This is such a weight off me. And I don’t think I would have said anything if you hadn’t noticed his behavior.”