Fixer for the Billionaire: A Spicy Billionaire Romantic Comedy (Seattle's Anderson Family)

Chapter 27

CARMINA

I try to convince myself that everything’s back to normal, bustling around with the arrangements for Jen”s bachelor-bachelorette bash as if my own heart isn’t bouncing like a ping-pong ball.

Two days after Val”s allergy attack, my scientist sister”s doing better, thankfully, spouting more potato clock and rocket fuel facts than I knew existed, thanks to Quentin’s parting gift of a bag of spuds to her hotel room.

In the meantime, Jen”s wrapped in wedding planning and her soon-to-be husband, while recent tag-team Gabi and Freddie keep throwing concerned glances my way. I shrug it off, insisting it’s just residual stress from Jen”s health scare.

It”s a lie. Much like the ones I”ve been telling Gabi about Quentin being “just a friend.”

Back at Hare Holeton, I’ve been playing hide and seek with my own Chief Marketing Officer, ducking behind doors and taking the long route to the printer. It’s been thirty-six hours of this self-imposed exile from him.

Thirty-six hours of pretending his absence doesn’t twist my gut into knots.

Nearly two days ago, walking away was the only answer to the question of Quentin and me. It was smart. Prudent. Sensible.

If only avoiding him didn”t feel like denying oxygen to my lungs.

Scheduled to meet with party planners Puddle and Glitter this afternoon, I”m still struggling to breathe the day before the bachelor-bachelorette party.

On this rainy Seattle lunch hour, the weather is as dour as my mood as I drive the short distance to their office. As I pull into the parking lot, my phone buzzes with a text from Gabi. The messages come in rapid succession, each one causing my heart to beat a little faster.

MINA. I appreciate U making us lunch…. but we GOTTA find a way to get Quentin back in the kitchen.

I ?? U. But a lettuce, tomato + mustard sandwich???

Shit. I messed up.

Then another message pops up from Gabi, this time with a photo attached. It’s the sandwich I packed for her lunch. A sandwich inconveniently missing the turkey and cheese I meant to add, nestled inside the Tupperware container.

BTW, if U talk to Quentin, tell him to feel better! And that we miss his cooking. Srsly ??

I smile, despite the ache in my chest. The lie that Quentin was sick to cover up our fight seems more and more absurd, especially now that we”re back in Seattle.

But it”s for the best.

Pushing aside thoughts of Quentin, I focus on the task for today.

Puddle and Glitter greet me with bright smiles as I enter their office. Their work domain is like stepping into a rainbow if the rainbow decided to dabble in event planning.

The next hour is a blur of Pinterest boards, color schemes, and discussions on the hashtag we”ve decided to use for the party.

It”s all so beautiful. Gorgeous. Jaw-dropping.

I just wish my heart was as happy as my eyes.

As we wrap up the meeting, Puddle hands me a folder with all the details and a list of things to do before the party. ”Don”t worry, dear,” he says. ”We”ll take care of everything.” The co-party planner, with his galaxy-print leggings, looks me up and down as if he”s reading the stars written in my coffee and spaghetti stains. ”Well, maybe not everything.” He draws an air-circle around my face. ”You have to take care of this.”

I frown. ”What”s ”this”?”

”The sadness in your face. The dark and stormy clouds that have taken residence in your eyes. The funk hanging around you like an unwanted houseguest. You need to take care of it before the event, sweetie. Or the guests will run away before the party even starts.”

I smooth my hands down my wrinkled business blouse and skirt. ”I”m fine. Really.”

Puddle raises an eyebrow and looks at Glitter, who nods in agreement. ”You may fool other people with your ”I”m fine” routine, but not us.” Puddle leans in closer. ”Darling, you”ve got the aura of someone who”s been binge-watching sad movies in the rain.”

Glitter, who”s rocking a unicorn horn headband, chimes in. ”And eating a tub of ice cream while listening to Adele on repeat.”

”Y”all, I”m...good. Just a little overwhelmed with everything,” I say, hands still on my blouse.

But Puddle and Glitter exchange a look, then nod at each other.

I shift on my heels, trying not to fidget. ”Alright, fine. What do you suggest?”

Puddle pulls out a deck of tarot cards with a flourish worthy of a Vegas magician. ”Let”s take a peek under the hood, shall we? The Stars and Cards Edition.”

Glitter winks at me. ”Don”t worry, we”re not going full mystic on you. Think of us more like your cosmic cheerleaders, armed with glitter and insights.”

Puddle shuffles the cards, and my stomach twists in anticipation.

”Alright, pick three cards,” Puddle says, presenting the deck to me.

I close my eyes and randomly select three cards from the deck. Puddle lays them out in front of me, and Glitter leans over to read the first card.

”Okay, first card: The Four of Cups. This one represents feeling stuck or stagnant in your emotions,” Glitter explains. ”Like you”re drowning in a sea of feelings and can”t seem to swim to the surface.”

I swallow over the lump forming in my throat.

”Puddle, look, she”s got the Lovers in reverse. Classic case of lovesick blues,” Glitter teases, but her eyes are kind.

”And here”s the Star, darling. Hope and renewal. See? The universe hasn”t forgotten you,” Puddle says, with a smile that”s equal parts mystical and mischievous. ”And from what I can tell, a certain someone hasn”t forgotten about you either.”

I feel my cheeks heat up as they both give me knowing looks.

A part of me wants to roll my eyes and dismiss their tarot reading as nonsense, but another part of me is yearning for more. More answers to the questions that have been in my mind since the day I let Quentin Anderson into my life.

More insights into the tangled web of emotions and decisions I”ve been struggling with.

I take a deep breath that feels like I”m inhaling the universe itself, and ask, ”So, what”s the verdict? Am I doomed to be stuck in this emotional rut forever?” I lick my dry lips, thinking of my convo with Jen at Danity”s Seattle reading. ”Am I one of those people who are just meant to be on their own?”

Puddle and Glitter exchange a look before Puddle speaks up. ”Honey, no one is doomed. The cards are just cards. But what they”re really good at is giving us a nudge to look inside ourselves. Sounds to me like you”ve got a heart as big as a pumpkin patch but you”re scared to plant any seeds because you”re worried nothing will grow.”

She picks up the Star card, holding it up so I am forced to look at it. ”This? This is your green light. Your cosmic thumbs-up to go ahead and love, and yes, be loved in return. Love”s not a one-way street, nor is it a solo journey. It”s a bustling highway, darling. And sure, there might be some potholes, maybe a flat tire here and there, but that”s what makes the ride interesting.”

It”s as if Puddle flicked a switch in a dark room, and suddenly, the shadows inside don”t seem so scary.

The inside of my throat thickens, and I clear it, trying to keep my voice steady. ”But what if I mess it all up again? How does one officially join the highway of love without getting lost at the first exit?”

Puddle winks. ”First rule of love highway? Don”t use an old map. Second, don”t be afraid to ask for directions. And third, enjoy the ride. Even if you take a wrong turn or two, it”s all part of the journey.”

A trickle of something wets the corner of my cheek. Takes several seconds before I realize it”s a tear.

I laugh, the sound shaky and uncertain but genuine. ”Thanks, Puddle. I needed that. You know, for being party planners, you two give pretty good life advice.”

”We”re considering adding ”emotional support” to our event planning services,” Glitter jokes, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I sniffle, wiping away the stray tear. ”I think you”d have a lot of clients for that.” I pack up the planning folders and my purse. ”Thanks again, both of you. I”ll keep you updated on the wedding planning chaos.”

As I start to leave, Puddle calls after me. ”Oh, and don”t forget to give us a good review on Yelp!” Glitter giggles.

Walking out, I wave goodbye and take a deep breath of the humid Seattle air. Hopping into my car, I start the engine, the weight on my chest a little lighter than just an hour before.

As I maneuver my BMW through the dense Seattle traffic, the scenes with Quentin play like a broken record in the back of my mind.

His eyes, filled with nothing but honest, raw love, staring right into mine. And what did I do?

I walked away, as if his feelings were just another item on a to-do list that I could simply check off and forget.

Am I really that messed up?

Can”t I recognize happiness even when it’s practically slapping me in the face with a giant, neon sign saying, ”This is it!”?

And then, as if on cue to my spiraling thoughts, the sound of a loud pop beneath the carriage of my car snaps me out of it.

Fingers tightening on the steering wheel, I pull over to the side of the road, muttering a string of expletives as I realize again what I”m dealing with.

A flat tire.

Another sign that my car is consistent with my love life—breaking down at the most inconvenient times.

Without delay, I shoot a text to Freddie, my trusty...well, everything these days, and she replies almost immediately. In no time, her tiny Toyota pulls up beside my car in the rain, her blonde head sticking out of the driver”s side window, blue eyes shining with amusement.

”Need a hand?” she asks with a smirk.

”Yes, please. Can you also arrange different auto insurance for me while you”re at it?”

Freddie hops out of her car and walks to her trunk, pulling out a jack and the spare tire.

”I told you to cancel that crappy policy two weeks ago,” she scolds, half-joking.

”I”ve been busy...avoiding my feelings.”

She chuckles as we both get to work on changing the tire.

It”s a wet, tiring, annoying process that I wouldn”t wish on my worst enemy. Seeing Quentin fix not one—but two flat tires in one day because of me—feels like salt in the wound.

But as I stand there, sweating and cursing under my breath, it hits me.

This is what love is all about.

It’s not just butterflies and warm fuzzy feelings. It’s being there for each other during the frustrating moments, lending a hand when needed, and making each other laugh even when things seem hopeless.

Numb, my hands move to loosen the lug nuts as Freddie takes over, her surprisingly strong arms making quick work of it. As we tighten the bolts and put everything back in place, Freddie stands, dusting her hands off.

”There. Good as new,” she declares with a proud grin.

The rain around us has finally let up, and for a brief moment, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

In that moment, I want to smile, to thank her for not only fixing my car but also for being a constant source of support and laughter in my life lately.

But instead, I feel a burn in my nose and prickling in my eyes. All signs of the tears I”ve been holding back for the past two days.

So I do what any self-respecting, career-driven, grown adult woman would do.

I burst into tears.

Right there on the side of the road, in front of my employee and friend, with my car half-propped on a jack.

Uncontrollable sobs rack through me as all the emotions I”ve been bottling up finally spill out. It”s a release of stress, frustration, and the overwhelming feeling I”ve been carrying around.

With a gentle hand on my shoulder, Freddie leans in, hugging me, and whispers, ”It”s okay. Let it out.”

And I do. I let myself admit the one thing I”ve been trying so hard to deny.

”I can”t do this alone.”

Just like that, the floodgates open and everything comes pouring out.

My doubts, my fears, my struggles with work-life balance, and the feeling of constantly juggling too many responsibilities.

But Freddie listens.

She doesn”t judge or offer unsolicited advice. She simply listens, letting me get everything off my chest as I give in to the universe and let go of my need to control everything.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally calm down. The tears slow to a stop, and I sniffle, glancing over at Freddie with a sheepish smile.

”Sorry about the waterworks.”

She just laughs and squeezes my hand. ”No need to apologize. We all have those moments where we just need to let it out.”

”Thanks,” I say, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. ”I don”t know what I would have done without you, Freddie. You”ve been a lifesaver through all of this.”

”We”re in this together, girl,” she says with a smile. ”You don”t have to do it alone. That”s what friends are for.”

”Yeah.” I grin. ”We really are friends, aren”t we?”

”I think we passed that point about a thousand work-inappropriate conversations ago,” Freddie teases.

”Right. I”m sorry if I used you as a stand-in for Jenny.”

”Please, no apology necessary. I prefer being the Freddie in this friendship.”

”Thanks, Freddie. Seriously.” She just nods, and we sit in comfortable silence for a moment before I glance at my watch. ”We should probably get back to work.”

”Yeah, yeah. Back to reality.” Freddie sighs. ”Or…we can take the break you deserve and go get some dry red wine.”

I raise an eyebrow. ”How”d you know that”s my solution for everything?”

”What kind of makeshift Jenny would I be if I didn”t know that?”

”Freddie, you”re one in a million. A true gem.”

”I know.” She wraps an arm around me as we both gather our things. ”Now, let”s go get tipsy and you can tell me all about how you”re insanely in love with Quentin and you”re finally going to tell him.”

I scoff and bury my face in my hands. ”Okay, you”ve gotten way too good at this Jenny impersonation.” I blow out a breath, finally smiling. ”You got a deal. Let”s go get that wine.”