Chapter 36
Alyssa checked on Mrs. Gilroy when she got home, took a shower, wrapped herself in a fluffy bathrobe, and sank onto her sofa under the Monet Water Lilies. She opened her laptop and logged on to a TV app. There was a baking show, but she’d missed a couple of episodes and wanted to catch up before watching the contestants make European landmarks in gingerbread. She watched a couple of minutes of a wedding show, but the bride wasn’t a raging narcissist, and the groom seemed thoughtful. Where was the drama in that? Ah … it was an outdoor wedding, and they didn’t have an indoor backup. She knew where this was going, and as a party planner, it knotted her stomach. Hard pass. She began to scroll through her social media sites.
She’d pulled the afghan over her shoulder and shoved harder into a throw pillow when a sponsored ad came on, and Nick Sorensen’s big stupid face was on the monitor—and he was standing in his apartment. She sat bolt upright, fatigue forgotten. So Stacey had made her commercial. But how had she gotten him to be in it?
“This is my apartment,” Nick said. “Alyssa Compton decorated it for me, and she did a great job.” Her mouth fell open. The camera panned the living room, dining room, and kitchen—the elegant furniture, the art, the sculpture on his kitchen counter, the plants—still alive. He had teammates over, guys she recognized, and they were laughing, dancing with their wives, throwing popcorn into one another’s mouths. Just quick glimpses of strong young men at ease together, and then there was the rotating disco ball that splashed colored light. When the commercial ended, there was her logo for the business she intended to start but hadn’t yet. The business whose launch party she had mentally planned down to the champagne glasses.
How dare he? The business was hers, or would be when she was able to open it. She would choose how to advertise, and it wouldn’t be an online commercial. Okay, she’d never be able to afford a commercial, but that wasn’t the point. How dare he? She picked up her phone and stabbed it. A minute later he answered.
“Hey, Alyssa?”
“Do you want to explain the ad I just saw online?”
He hesitated a second, picking up on her tone. “I got a lawyer to see if I could stop her from getting in my space.” Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut. “He said no. So I beat her to the punch. If I have to let everybody in Detroit in my living room, you get the benefit from it—not her.” He sounded extremely pleased with himself.
“Did it occur to you to call me before you did that? To ask?”
He hesitated again. “No?” She exhaled sharply into the phone. “But it’s a good ad, right? And it gets you off to a good start with your new business.”
“I wasn’t ready!”
“The game comes at you fast,” Nick said.
“This is not a game,” Alyssa said, fighting tears.
“This was nice of me.” His tone was defensive.
It was nice of him. She hadn’t wanted him to do it, and he should have asked. But he was definitely trying to help. Even in her anger she understood that.
“All you have to do is sit back and answer the phone,” Nick said.
“Oh my god. You put my phone number on it?” She’d seen it but hadn’t processed what it meant.
“Well, yeah. You don’t have a website yet, so how else will they get a hold of you?”
“I was going to get a second number! When I got around to doing this, which isn’t right now.”
“You could still get a second number. You could make the new one your home number if you want. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is,” Alyssa said, biting her words, “that you took a decision that was mine and did what you wanted, and I don’t think it was even to help me. I think you were trying to outmaneuver Stacey.”
There was silence at the other end of the phone. That had hit home. “You know what?” Nick said. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t given me the wrong contract.” He scored a direct hit. “I paid for the ad to run for four days. I won’t renew it. You can decide whether to take the opportunity or sulk.”
“That’s unfair!” she said.
“We all have to get out of our comfort zones sometimes, Alyssa.” His words were heavy with more meaning than she could even begin to understand right now.
She started to answer, but he hung up on her. She stared at her phone. “I was going to have a launch party,” she whispered. “There would be pink cookies.” She set her phone down and wiped her eyes.
Then she saw that while they’d been talking, she’d missed three calls.