Page 76 of Savannah Sweethearts

“Is that so?” I leaned on my, I mean her, desk.

“Absolutely. Organization with space, with time management, with everything keeps things running smoothly. It’s the only way to do it. But I think you know that, Mr. Daniels.” She had taken to calling me Mr. Daniels at work.

Calling me by my first name was reserved for outside of The Promenade. When she accepted my job offer, she said she would only accept it if she could take me out on a date. Who was I to argue? There went my rule to not date people I work with.

Besides, rules were meant to be broken, right?

The phone rang and she picked it up as she slid into the rolling chair. “The Promenade, Savannah’s most sought-after event space, this is Amaya.”

That had also been her idea, calling it Savannah’s most sought-after event space. She was about to launch an entirely new marketing campaign that was as brilliant as she was beautiful. According to her, appealing to a high-level clientele would bring in more bookings at higher rates. She had asked a high profile client by the name of Ashley Harris if we could use some of her wedding photos in the ads and they were stunning. They made me want to get married. Almost. One day. Maybe.

I listened to her spirited conversation. “Absolutely. We can do that. Yes, we offer vegan options.” She smiled at me and winked. “Let me look. How does Thursday at four sound? And your name? Perfect, thank you Marissa, we’ll see you then.”

“The ads aren’t even out but they’re already creating buzz. Ashley is spreading the word amongst the elite of Savannah.” Amaya shimmied her shoulders as she typed the appointment in the computer.

“The same one with the pictures?”

“The very one. She was raised a Savannah socialite and married the love of her life here not too long ago. It was a big to-do because her parents thought she was marrying down. But let me tell you, I have never seen two people more in love than her and Tyrell.” She stared off in the distance for a moment.

“You remind me of someone I know,” I said with a chuckle. I would never tell her that person was my mother. I’d let her ponder that.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I think,” she said with a quizzical look.

“It is. It’s a very good thing. Like Martha Stewart. Only not a criminal.” I stood up straight and crossed my arms.

“It means you have excellent taste.”

“I certainly do.” I looked around the office. “I think that was the last of your things. Enjoy my office.”

She beamed up at me from the chair. “Enjoy your hovel, Mr. Daniels.”

I nodded. “Ms. Journet.”

At five o’clock on the dot, Amaya appeared in my doorway and leaned on the jamb. “This room is so dark. You’re like a recluse back here.”

“Somebody forced me out of my office.” I said, loosening my tie. “Are you ready?”

Wednesday nights were our standing date night. Friday and Saturdays were usually booked, so we had taken to mid-week dates. It kept things more casual and the wait times for a restaurant were usually much shorter.

“I am. And I’m excited about the theater. Linaya and Aaron are joining us,” she said.

Tierney was working out to be a wonderful addition for us. Several of the weddings we had booked already had caterers, but he was starting off with our conferences and we were giving the luncheon thing a trial run. So far it was successful. And Amaya’s sister’s relationship with him was also successful. According to Amaya, Linaya was practically in love.

She hopped into my car with me, still in the pencil skirt she had worn at one of our first meetings. I loved her in that figure-hugging skirt, it gave her the perfect silhouette. It was paired with a coral colored sleeveless blouse that showed her decolletage without being too revealing. She looked perfect for a night at SCAD’s theater.

Sure enough, standing outside were Linaya and Tierney. Amaya greeted the pair and I shook Tierney’s hand. Linaya took me by the shoulders and gave me air kisses. She was definitely an eclectic soul and a wonderful compliment to Amaya.

Inside we found our seats and settled in to watch The Phantom of the Opera, one of Amaya’s favorites. I had never been much of one for musical theater or operas, but I was learning the merits of them through her. For a previous date night she had ordered Thai food and we watched a musical on her television. For me, the way her face lit up during the climax of the show was worth the price of admission to the theater. It was the look of pure elation with no stress, no regrets. It was nothing but joy. One day I wanted to give her a reason to give that look to me.

She didn’t know I was staring at her in that moment, of course. The stage took up all her attention, so she wasn’t looking at me. But I was looking at her, all of her, in the soft glow of the theater.

When the lights went out entirely, she looked at me, the expression still on her face. The audience was clapping and whistling, so I couldn’t hear what she said, but she took my hand and pulled me to standing. Then she turned back to the stage and began clapping and cheering herself. I clapped along, but my attention wasn’t on the stage.

As we left, Linaya looped her arm through mine and pulled me to a stop. “I saw you watching her.”

I felt like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar and I gulped. “You did?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, yeah. And if I can ever get anyone to look at me the way you were looking at her…” She paused and sighed. “Tread carefully. She’s been broken before. But I approve.”

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