Have a good thyme, Tasha replied.
I chuckled out loud and reread the exchange a few more times before tucking away my phone. I would have felt guilty if Ellison hadn't been texting directions to her cronies while she raved about the food. It was next to impossible to concentrate on the delicately structured next course. It was a bird's nest of infusions, and I didn't understand which part was edible. All I could think about was a cold beer and the better view from across the bay.
My phone buzzed again, and I dug it out eagerly.
"Uh oh," Ellison said, checking her own phone. "Looks like my paparazzi are at it again."
Berger sent me the photograph that was making the rounds faster than lightning. It was me smiling down at my phone with the suggestion that Ellison Ramsey was sending me love notes. The winning consensus was that we were back in love and on the verge of engagement.
Letting the junior execs know we should start planning a bachelor party, was Berger's comment.
Then I realized he'd sent the photograph to our work group. Tasha was on the top of the list, and she was one of the only ones not to comment. How could I casually tell her it was all wrong?
Ellison seemed to think it was all right, even though she knew full well I hadn't been smiling at a message from her. She smiled and flirted her way through the entire night and seemed very surprised when I told her limo driver to take me home.
"I'd invite you in, but I barely have furniture," I said.
"Rainer, don't be silly. You can come stay with me," Ellison said. Her driver held the door open and gestured for me to get back inside.
I shook my head. "Since when do you turn in so early? Isn't there some gallery that needs attending, or a late night exclusive concert?"
Ellison pouted. "There is. Are you sure you won't come with me?"
"Thanks for a wonderful, ah, meal," I said. "Goodnight."
I commended myself for letting her down easy. There was no way she could have missed those hints. I slept well, thinking that I was free and clear once again no matter what social media said.
Then I woke up to a screaming saw. Sledgehammers hit the walls of my living room, and I scrambled downstairs in a panic. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
A dapper interior designer introduced himself as Raphael. "Ellison Ramsey sent me over, and I just had to get started right away. Of course we'll discuss color schemes and styles, but first, we need to fix the flow of the first floor."
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, tugging on my dress pants.
"Ms. Ramsey's gift to you - the full interior design treatment. And when I told her there had to be renovations, she told me to send you her way. The darling says you can stay with her until we're finished here. Isn't she just an angel?" Raphael clapped his hands and strode off, giving orders.
"No, wait. There's been a mistake," I said. "This isn't a gift; she referred you to me. And I'll be living here throughout all the renovations."
Raphael and the crew were right to look at me like I was insane, but I wasn't about to let Ellison railroad me into being her doll. She had never been good at not getting her way, but this was insane. A few meetings, a social media storm, and Ellison thought I really was going to be her fiancé. I wanted to scream.
It was a relief to drive away, though it took all the way to the bridge until the ringing in my ears stopped. And it wasn't just the sledgehammers. Raphael had hounded me for color palettes and had repeatedly screeched that I needed a vision board. I was glad to get the San Francisco Bay between me and my new zoo.
The community garden was just what I needed. Until I saw Tasha.
"Fun night last night?" she asked. "Should I be expecting some big announcement soon?"
I flinched. Of course Tasha had seen the photograph of me at the restaurant opening. But, how could she, of all people, think that photograph meant Ellison and I were getting engaged?
"There's no announcement," I said. "Why do people assume that?"
Tasha gathered up a flat of parsley plants. "Because everyone likes when the big-time playboy settles down. Gives everyone hope," she said.
I tugged the flat of plants out of her hands. "I was looking at your message in the photograph, you know."
Tasha's hands fell to her sides. For one moment, her eyes held mine and then she strode off towards the garden. She knew the smile I had on my face in that photograph, the smile everyone thought meant I was in love, was actually for her. So, naturally, she refused to talk about it.
"You know what gives me hope?" I asked.
Tasha dropped down next to the first garden row but glanced up at me. "No. What?" she asked, cautiously.