Page 2 of The Plus One Professional

Unlike Duke, who woke before dawn, Whiskey was not a morning feline. Her circadian rhythm was set to night mode. She came alive when the sun went down and didn’t curl up on her throne until it rose in the morning. I often wondered if she wasn’t part vampire.

I rested my hand on the doorframe as I clumsily stepped into a pair of black slacks. I managed to shimmy them up my still heavily-lotioned legs before grabbing the sleeveless mock turtleneck I’d impulse-bought a week ago when I was passing a boutique. The color caught my attention because the green matched my eyes. When I tried it on, the material molded to my curves without clinging, which was imperative for work attire.

As a wedding coordinator, I couldn’t wear anything that would draw attention to myself, which was fine by me. I gladly blended into my environment. To put it in Bridgerton-terms, I was happy to be a wallflower. But lately, for the past six months or so, I’d found myself wanting to look my best and had been putting a little bit more effort into my appearance at weddings.

I pulled the tags off, slid the emerald green shirt over my head, and tugged it into place. When I stepped back into the bedroom and saw my reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner, I was once again struck by how flattering it was to my curves without being over the top or in your face flashy.

“What do you think?” I asked Duke as I spun toward him, raising my arms out to the side.

“Meow. Meow.” He rolled onto his back so his belly could feel the sunshine. “Meow.”

“Work crush? No, silly, I don’t have a work crush.” In addition to indulging Duke and Whiskey’s every need, I also had conversations with them on a regular basis, at least with Duke. Whiskey wasn’t vocal. She was silent and judgy. “I work with Aunt Billie and Auntie Birdie, so a work crush is impossible.”

I might not have a work crush, but there was a certain wedding attendee who I’d noticed at quite a few weddings I’d coordinated over the past nine months or so. He was always with a different date, so clearly a ladies’ man. I’d obviously never spoken to him, but he wasverynice to look at. I’d had a crush on Zac Efron since his high school musical days, and this guy was an even hotter version of the dark-haired, light-eyed heartthrob. It was sort of fun playing the will-he or won’t-he be there game.

In case he was, my plan had been to forgo my typical ponytail and style my mid-back-length, honey-blonde hair in beach waves that would fall around my shoulders. And that wasn’t all. I’d even learned how to do a smokey eye from a TikTok tutorial the night before that I planned on implementing. Okay, so maybe I did have a work-ish crush.

As I grabbed my flats from the shoe storage under my bed, my phone rang. The ring caused my heart to skip at the thought that it was Simon, and I’d finally get to speak to him. When I picked it up, I saw it was Billie.

“Hey,” I answered as the adrenaline spike I’d just experienced drained from my body.

“I’m outside,” my sister said in a clipped tone. She wasn’t being rude; that was just her demeanor.

“I’ll be right down.”

No beach waves today, but all was not lost; I may still be able to pull off a smokey eye. I grabbed a rubber band and my makeup bag, dropped them in my oversized bag, slid on my black ballet flats, and said goodbye to my fur babies.

On the ride down the elevator, I brushed out my hair and pulled it back in my signature ponytail, using the reflection in the steel doors as my mirror. When I got off on the first floor, I rushed out to the street where Billie was double-parked.

As I walked to her Tesla, I took a moment to appreciate the brisk, sunny summer day. In my book, it just didn’t get better than San Francisco when the sun was shining, a cool breeze was blowing, and the waters of the bay were shimmering and blue.

“Sorry, I was still getting ready,” I apologized as I slid into the passenger’s seat.

“Is that a new shirt?” Billie questioned in a tone that indicated she already knew the answer.

I glanced down, pretending I hadn’t just taken the tags off. “Oh, yeah. I guess it is.”

“Any reason for the new wardrobe?”

Two reasons, actually. The reason I was wearing my new purchase today came in the form of a six-foot-four stranger with dark hair and eyes bluer than the aforementioned bay, whose name I didn’t know. The second reason I’d bought the shirt, was because the man I’d been in love with since I was fourteen years old was moving back home. The first thing Simon had ever said to me was that I had pretty eyes.

“He’s back, isn’t he?” Billie asked, as if reading my mind.

“Who?” I feigned ignorance as I pulled down the visor to start applying my make-up.

My sister sighed, clearly not amused by me playing dumb. “Simon.”

“Um…I’m not sure.” Technically, I didn’t know where he was. In the first message Simon left, he said he was moving back to the city. I had no idea if he was here yet.

“Don’t do this again,” Billie said firmly.

“Do what?”

“You need to cut him off. Cold turkey. No contact.”

“He’s my friend.” It was the same defense I’d used whenever anyone brought up Simon. Anyone being my best friend Olivia, or Billie, that is. They were the two people in my life who were anti-Simon. They also happened to be the two people I was closest to.

“Yourfriendwho ghosts you for years at a time, then shows up out of the blue, hooks up with you for a few months, won’t actually commit, draws you back in, and then leaves again, breaking your heart.”

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