Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
To Do:
- Research Men’s Rights Conference
- Grill Jack
- Check in with Bri
When her alarm went off at five a.m. on Saturday, Claire rolled out of bed like a ninja and crouched on the floor. She peeked over the edge of the down comforter. Luke was still sleeping, brows furrowed like he was lecturing someone. He probably was. Rosie raised her head, but apparently was too sleepy to follow her mom out the door.
Claire stepped silently down the stairs and quickly changed into the outfit she had laid out the night before. After two painfully lengthy meetings on Thursday and Friday, Brad had decided he needed another and it couldn’t wait. Happily Ever Afters had never followed a Monday-Friday workweek, but this was getting ridiculous. Mindy had done the smart thing and flown back to West Haven for the weekend, so Claire was going to the meeting alone.
She was supposed to be spending the day with Luke. He had planned a day date to show her all his favorite places in the city. But now it would have to wait until this infernal meeting was over. Brad insisted it would be quick, so there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t be. Surely he had some rich people stuff to do on Saturday—golfing, maybe? Or an underground fight club?
She set a pot of coffee to brew and pulled out one of Luke’s tiny notebooks—he had a literal drawer full in his kitchen. The pen scratched across the paper as she scrawled a quick note explaining her absence. Would he be upset when he found her gone? Probably. But her whole future was riding on this proposal. It had to be done.
Luke-
I HAVE NOT BEEN ABDUCTED. Quick meeting with Brad. Be back soon.
xoxo
Besides, he had forced her into a therapy session twice. She had not been mentally ready to unpack what had happened at the ranch, and her session with Dr. Goulding had ended in a panic attack. He had no room to argue about boundaries.
She triple-checked that all the doors and windows were locked before hustling outside to the car. The sky blushed pink, but the sun still hovered below the horizon. Car keys were threaded through her fingers as she tiptoed across the lawn. ESA could be anywhere. Spying through a hole in a neighbor’s fence, lurking in a parked car. There would barely be time to inhale the sharp, sweet scent of chloroform before she was incapacitated. It had happened before. She quickened her pace and ran through her vehicle security check at double time.
Her heart pounded as she threw herself into the driver’s seat. She clutched a hand to her chest and fought for measured breaths. She smelled the stupid black licorice air freshener (Luke had the worst taste,) listened to the hum of the engine. There was only so much she could do to ground herself in reality in this tiny, ineffective car. The Porsche was sorely lacking in hauling capacity. She could barely fit a breath mint in the backseat let alone a set of professional grade speakers.
After a minute, her heart rate slowed. Her fingers cracked as she pulled them off the steering wheel and flexed. There was no need to lose her damn mind every time a shadow crossed her path. If ESA was run predominantly by frat boys, there was a zero percent chance that they were up at five thirty in the morning on a Saturday.
She needed to refocus and get to work. In two short weeks, the proposal would be in motion. Once Brad’s project was over and the shelter was effectively saved, she could breathe again. Well, if ESA didn’t manage to murder her in the interim.
She backed slowly out of the driveway and turned down the street toward the studio. Burbank was quiet this early on a Saturday. A couple of elderly neighbors puttered around in their gardens, watering flowers and reaching for their morning papers. She waved to Mr. Nesbit, a kind neighbor with an adorable golden retriever named Hank. He had left a bag of produce on their front porch the day before.
But what the hell was this? She almost stomped on the brakes.
Olivia stood outside a modest two-story brick house. She unfurled a yoga mat on her patch of front lawn that was more dirt than grass. Her neon yellow sports bra made Claire’s eyes water as she drove by. A complicated-looking ring light with a cellphone harness stood ready in the grass.
Her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. As much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t flash a middle finger at the attempted homewrecker. With her luck, it would end up on TikTok and her reputation would be even more brutally destroyed.
Thirty harrowing minutes later, Claire pulled into the studio and locked her doors. Despite its best efforts, Los Angeles traffic had not managed to claim her life. She did a quick bout of two-stepping and triple-checked her purse for Brad’s master binder. It had a fresh new tab devoted solely to trail decoration. Since her own stash was torched, she had spent the remainder of her Friday getting quotes from rental companies in the area. Hopefully Brad wouldn’t have any additional outlandish requests. They were running out of time.
Claire hustled into the studio. There was minimal staff here today, and they waved her back without bothering to check her ID. She knocked hesitantly on Brad’s door.
“Come in,” he said. “Ah, Claire. Thank you for meeting with me.”
Claire slid a coffee across the imposing mahogany desk. “It’s no trouble. So, two weeks out from the big day. How are you feeling?”
Brad stood and faced away from her. He sipped his coffee for a moment and stared out the window like a Bond villain. Her stomach clenched. Was he about to make some dramatic proclamation that he wasn’t ready for marriage after all? If so, she was going to torch the entire studio.
“I feel great. I only wish we didn’t have to wait another two weeks. My head just buzzes with ideas on how it can be bigger, better. But I know there’s only so much we can accomplish in a single day. Maybe I should have planned a proposal week.” He chuckled.
Claire’s smile froze. If he was about to propose that they stretch these events out over the course of a week, she was going to lose her shit.
“I think one beautiful day exactly as you have planned it will be perfect,” she said diplomatically. “You can always take a vacation afterwards to celebrate.”
“Now there’s an idea.” Brad pulled out his readers and scribbled something on a sticky note. “How’s Luke doing, by the way? He’s okay with me dragging you away from home so often?”
Claire smiled. “He knows how important this is.”
“How’s his next documentary coming?”
“Almost done,” she said. “Streamster’s been instrumental in completing the finishing touches. He was able to shorten his timeline by almost six months with their help.”
“Luke Islestorm, sellout. Never thought I’d see the day.”
She narrowed her eyes. No one talked shit about her boyfriend’s life work, even if he was paying her a crapload of money. “Luke’s still in complete creative control. He’s just added some resources, that’s all. But anyway, what did you want to talk about today?”
Brad pulled out a folder of his own and flipped it open. Printed copies of their emails were hole punched and grouped neatly inside. His binder skills definitely needed work though. There wasn’t a sheet protector or a tab in sight.
“Let’s talk about my vision for the trail ride.” Brad leaned forward and shoved his folder at her. A lighting scheme complete with oscillating spotlights and LED color-changing string lights stared back at her. Great. It was going to be borderline impossible to acquire and install all the materials before the proposal.
They dove into conversation about the trail. Claire cursed herself for even bringing it up. It would be a sunset ride, wouldn’t the natural beauty of the hillside have been enough? The patchy grass and stunted trees stood out in her mind like a sore thumb though. It was annoying, but this was the right way to do a proposal of this magnitude.
She glanced at her watch. An hour had passed since they had started the meeting. Surely Rosie had gotten Luke up by now. Her phone was in her bag, and she wasn’t about to check it while she was with a client. Hopefully the coffee she had brewed would improve Luke’s mood.
Next, Brad wanted a complete financial update. Claire pursed her lips as she wiggled her laptop out of her bag and pulled up the shared spreadsheet that Mindy had been updating religiously. She scrolled down to the bottom so Brad could see the final tally. He leaned back in his chair and nodded.
“Now does that include the quote for the upgrades to the trail?”
“Not until we decide on exactly what you want. It’ll be probably an extra couple hundred to a thousand, depending on how much you want.”
“What about fireworks?” Brad said thoughtfully.
She shook her head. “Rita at the ranch explicitly said no fireworks. It would spook the horses, risk injuring someone, and getting the permit would be nearly impossible. You don’t want Karen to get hurt on proposal day.”
“No, you’re probably right. I just wish there was something else, some final element we could add for real pizzazz.”
Apparently flying in fifty-foot-tall self-lit letters wasn’t pizzazz-y enough for Brad.
“You know, I really think we have enough.” She peeked at her watch again. Another hour had gone by. Luke was definitely going to be pissed. “You don’t want to overwhelm Karen with too much. All that matters to her is the question. Have you been working on your speech?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” He ducked his head and slid open a desk drawer, then pulled out another folder containing several handwritten and stapled documents. He dropped them on the desk. Damn it to hell. Why couldn’t she shut her mouth? “I have several different versions. Can I try them out on you?”
“Of course.” She gritted her teeth. This would never end.
Brad read six different versions of his proposal speech over the course of the next ninety minutes. With Claire’s help, he narrowed it down to three versions.
“I really like the way you incorporated the story of how you met in this version.” She pointed to the speech she had marked with a yellow highlighter. “I think if you combine that with the anecdote about your first date at Alcatraz and your cross-country Christmas road trip from year four, you’ll really highlight all the beautiful things you love about Karen. That’s a powerful proposal right there.”
“Do you really think so? Because I was kind of partial to the story in this version where we?—”
Bang .
Brad’s office door flew open.
Instinctively, Claire stood and kicked her chair toward the door before tucking and rolling. Shit, her pepper spray was in her purse, and she had kicked her purse at the intruder. Her instincts needed some work. She grabbed a book off Brad’s shelf and hoisted it like a Frisbee.
A scream was caught in her throat. Was it ESA? Had they grown tired of their cat-and-mouse game and stormed the studio?
But no. It wasn’t a chloroform-toting lackey staring at her from the doorway. It was a very grumpy Luke.
“Sorry, Brad, Claire has another meeting,” he said. He crossed the office in two steps and pulled Claire up from the floor. Her world inverted as he tossed her over his shoulder like a rag doll. “She’ll email you later.” He stopped for a brief wave before slamming the office door behind him.
“Luke! What the hell? I was right in the middle of a meeting.” The blood was rushing to her head, which did nothing for her mood. She kicked her legs, but he held her in a vise grip.
“We have a date planned,” he said simply.
“I know that, that’s why I planned the meeting so early.”
“It’s been five hours,” he snapped. “I texted you three times.”
Claire’s hands balled into fists. “You know how important this proposal is to me. And you know we only have two weeks left to get everything perfect. If I can’t pull this off, the West Coast branch of Happily Ever Afters will be dead. It’ll be almost impossible for me to support the shelter. Failure is not an option, Luke. The stakes are too high.”
A glass door swung open, and then they were back in the blinding sunshine. He set her down on her feet and stared at her, eyes stormy.
“You always think your work is more important than mine.” She sniped before he could say anything. “I would never pull you out of a meeting with a client.”
“That’s not true. And there’s more to life than work.”
Her face burned as she ripped her purse out of his hand and flung it over her shoulder. She opened her mouth, but Luke put up a hand to stop her. He cupped her cheek in his hand and stared into her eyes.
“You’re using work as a distraction. That’s your thing. But if you keep going at this pace, you’re going to kill yourself with stress. You need to make time in your life for other things. You’ve barely slept in days. I wake up six times a night expecting to find you rollerblading on the 405 with a burger from In-N-Out.”
Okay, so maybe she hadn’t considered the impact her stress had on him. Her face still burned, but it wasn’t from anger.
“And stop worrying so much. If something goes wrong, we’ll face it together. If you go bankrupt, we’ll deal with it. If the shelter goes under, we’ll adopt all the dogs and make our own. If ESA kidnaps you while you’re out at a top secret meeting at six in the morning, I’ll burn their headquarters down and save you myself. You’re not alone in this world. You have me, even when you’re being kind of an asshole. Do you understand?”
Claire’s lip quivered. She put her arms out, and he pulled her in.
“Also, stop fucking going places alone. We talked about this.”
“Mmph,” she mumbled into the crook of his arm. Enveloped by his arms and the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the ever-present storm in her mind quieted. But just a little.