Chapter Nineteen
I follow Jonathan downstairs and then clean up the kitchen. With every dish I rinse and every surface I scrub, I hope for clarity. I don’t get it.
My gift has never brought me love before, but what if that’s about to change? What if Jonathan moving into my house has nothing to do with him finding his soulmate in my neighborhood, but with me?
Jonathan is nothing like the man I see myself with. He’s way too rich, snooty, and particular about how clean his surroundings are. Having said that, I’m always telling my clients to keep an open mind. Maybe I should be doing the same.
Sky is in our suite when I finally drag myself up to bed. “How’s it going with Steven?” I ask, hoping to transfer my thoughts onto a less confusing topic.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” my friend asks enthusiastically as she jumps off my bed where she’s apparently been waiting for me.
“In a nerdy kind of way.”
“He is nerdy, isn’t he?” She sounds thoroughly delighted.
“Did he kiss you tonight?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet, but he will soon. I think I scare him.”
“I bet you do.” Sky is intimidatingly gorgeous and, if Steven is as shy as he seems, I’m willing to bet the thought of making a move on my friend has him shaking in his boots.
Sky abruptly changes the subject. “I have bad news. Serena’s company can’t cater our party after all. They just booked a sit-down dinner for two hundred.”
“Who throws a last-minute dinner party for two hundred on Valentine’s Day?” I can’t imagine such a thing.
“Some celebrity. Serena won’t know who it is until the night of the event. The whole staff had to sign nondisclosure agreements. If you ask me, I think someone is throwing a last-minute wedding.”
“Huh. I guess we should change the night of our party then.”
“I was talking to Jonathan’s staff after you both took off.”
“And?” I ask, wondering what that has to do with our party.
“They suggested that you talk to Jonathan about having the party here. Gerard offered to do the catering and Martin and the Germans said they’d serve.”
“The Germans?”
“Helga and Greta,” she says with a laugh. “They’re a formidable duo, aren’t they?”
“That they are.” I kick off my shoes before changing into my pajamas. “I’m not sure Jonathan would want me throwing a party here.”
“You don’t know until you ask.” She hurries to add, “This really is the perfect place for it. Martin says they have a bunch of outdoor heaters in one of the garages that we could use. We could keep everyone on the veranda.”
“What if people want to use the bathroom?”
“Martin said they could use the pool house.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
Sky sits back down on my bed before saying, “Not really. It was mostly Martin and Gerard. They seemed excited at the prospect of having a party here. I got the feeling that Jonathan doesn’t entertain a lot.”
“I have no idea how to go about asking him.” After the weird exchange we just shared—the one where he bolted with unflattering haste just as I thought we might be destined for a lip lock—I can’t imagine approaching him on this topic.
“Just call him on the phone and ask. If he says no, he says no, but why would he?”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, not sure I’ll do any such thing.
“Emily, you can’t drag it out. We need to know in the next couple of days so that we can send out our invitations.”
“Okay, okay.” I push her off my bed. “I need to get some sleep right now, though. I promise I’ll ask him soon.”
“Tomorrow,” she says before practically skipping into her own room.
I fall asleep wondering how best to approach Jonathan on the topic. I start to play out various scenarios in my head.
Me: Jonathan, I want to use your house to bring prospective clients together.
Jonathan: No.
Me: What do you mean, no? Why not?
Jonathan: I don’t want strangers in my home.
Me: But …
Jonathan: No.
I try a more casual approach.
Me: Hey, Jonathan, would you mind if I have a few people over? I promise to keep them out of the main house.
Jonathan: How many people?
Me: No more than a hundred.
Jonathan: A hundred people? No.
In my next fantasy, I’m inexplicably wearing a negligee circa some 1930’s black and white gangster film.
Me: (flipping a feather boa around my neck) Darling, I was thinking I might throw a little do.
Jonathan: You want to throw a do?
Me: I want to have a party.
Jonathan: Here?
Me: Of course, here, you silly boy.
Jonathan: No.
I toss and turn for ages. When I finally fall asleep, I dream that I throw the party without telling Jonathan. Thousands of guests show up and they refuse to stay outside.
A bunch of them go from bedroom to bedroom where they jump on the beds until the frames collapse. Another group inexplicably decides to remodel the house. They start by painting everything red. Then because this dream wouldn’t be scary enough without them, Cirque du Soleil arrives and strings up tightropes before forcing the guests to cross them at gunpoint. Obviously, there are no nets to catch anyone when they lose their balance and fall off.
When I finally wake up, I’m dead tired and feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I can either disappoint Sky and tell her that I refuse to ask Jonathan, or I can ask and risk him saying no.
The only problem with asking him is that I’ve very recently decided—last night in the Depot room—that Jonathan might just be my knight in shining armor, and I’d hate to risk my own happy ending before it has a chance to launch.