Page 15 of The Comeback

Once the Pumas have kicked off and Gabriella and I settle into our seats as the other team takes the ball, I turn to her. “It looked like things were going great with the governor.”

Her face lights up. “It did. Makes me antsy,” she says, clasping her hands together. “I know there’s so much groundwork I’ve got to do, but I just want to be doing things. Now.”

“I know.” I reach over and put my hand over hers, and she clasps it instead of her own. “Do you already have him ready to give you an endorsement?” I tease.

“He will be.” She flashes me a cocky grin and I laugh. Then she eyes me seriously. “I’m going to want you on board when the time comes. Are you going to be ready?”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes, but she just glares, her expression determined.

“Ava. Why are you doing weddings?”

She knows why, but she wants to make me tell her that I’m scared to do fundraising events. “It makes me happy to see brides and grooms building their perfect day. You know how much I love helping with that.”

She scoffs. “And raising millions of dollars for good causes doesn’t bring you joy?” she challenges.

I don’t want to jinx myself, but I’ve never planned a wedding that went as wrong as the fundraising event that haunts me. And if the marriages fail? That usually happens long after the wedding itself. “Not for me right now.”

“Ha.” She turns her attention to the field. The Pumas have stopped the other team behind their own forty-yard line and they’re preparing to punt. Colby—and Jett—will be on the field soon. “The Hope Sanctuary Alliance fiasco was not your fault. Not even a little bit, Ava.”

She’s said this a hundred times, but she’s alone in her opinion. The talk online that has restarted since people found out I’m planning her wedding is proof of that. So is Rutledge telling Kristen they have their eye on how well this goes down.

“I let that video get out,” I say to Gabriella. That’s what Chelsea, the CEO of The Hope Sanctuary Alliance, said every time I tried to apologize. I poured my soul into that event. But I’m the one who didn’t notice that Mrs. Page, the charity’s founder, had snuck a video into the presentation, accusing her husband of embezzling millions of dollars from the foundation. Instead of a beautiful video showing how The Hope Sanctuary Alliance helped refugees all over the world, it was Mrs. Page’s angry voice overlaying screenshots of accounts and scandalous videos and photos of her husband partying on the charity’s dime. She should have brought it to Chelsea. They could have taken it to the police quietly, and maybe The Hope Sanctuary Alliance would have gotten some bad press, but it would’ve been nothing compared to the yearly fundraiser turning into a fiasco and everyone focusing on the scandal. All because of that video and its placement at the forefront of the fundraiser gala I had planned, packed to the brim with not just people with deep pockets but also reporters I’d put on the guest list because I believed in The Hope Sanctuary’s cause and wanted word to get out. It was my fault it happened. I hadn’t been careful enough—I’d been in a rush as the final minutes ticked down to the dinner. I hadn’t double-checked that the correct video was cued up, ready to go.

After the uproar the video caused, and Mr. Page’s arrest shortly after, there was nothing Chelsea could do to save the nonprofit. She was my friend, the reason I got the account in the first place, and I failed her.

Then there was the social media backlash, with me at the center. I was lucky to keep my job, the way people talked. Kristen had to move me to wedding planning and reassure a lot of clients. She’s always insisted, the way Gabriella has, that I wasn’t at fault, but she had her business to think of. Now there’s an even bigger account on the line, and I have to pay Kristen back for the loyalty she showed me by making sure everything goes right this time.

Gabriella shakes her head. “You were coordinating an entire event. It had the same file name as the one that had been approved?—”

“The thumbnail was different.” I fold my arms.

Gabriella raises an eyebrow. We went over every single moment of the event together after it happened, so she knows everything I can remember, including that my assistant tried to tell me when she said, “The thumbnail for the presentation video is different. That’s weird. Want me to check it?” But I couldn’t spare her at the moment. I’d needed her to diffuse a situation between the caterer and one of the charity staff members. I brushed it off.

“‘The thumbnail was different,’” Gabriella repeats in a sarcastic tone. She’s trying to comfort me now just like she did then, insisting my mistakes were minor, that people were blowing things out of proportion. “How could you miss that amid a thousand other things going on that night?” She shakes her head and takes my hand back in hers. “I’m going to need you, Ava. You want me to do this, right? You support me trying to get elected to the senate?”

“Of course I do! That doesn’t mean you need me actually on your staff to?—”

“It takes money, Ava. You know how to get that.” Despite the fact that Jett throws a short pass to Colby and Colby’s racing past defenders down the sideline, Gabriella focuses on me. This is where she started when she first approached me about doing her wedding. She’s a strategist, and she knows it’ll take more than one conversation to convince me. Just thinking about what happened with The Hope Sanctuary Alliance has my chest tight and anxious thoughts darting through my brain, especially with it so tied to the importance of my success now. Watching Gabriella’s chances go up in smoke because I miss a detail somewhere again isn’t something I can handle. I’ll make sure Gabriella’s wedding is perfect. That’s all I can do for her, even if a part of me wants to do what she’s asking.

“I’m not a fundraiser expert. I just know how to plan events.” I pull my hand from hers and fold both of mine in front of me, stubborn in my stance right now.

“I’m not giving up.” Gabriella claps at a good play, as though she’s already moved on.

And I’m not giving in. But despite all the bad memories this discussion has brought up, I do miss planning those events. There was a little shiver of excitement when Kristen told me about the Rutledge account and I thought she might ask me to be on the team. It’s stronger whenever I let myself think about the types of events I might plan for Gabriella.

Jett has a great game, but every time I cheer, I’m self-conscious about it. It’s much easier to watch these games in front of my TV.

The Pumas win, and that’s when I realize something I forgot about. The team’s family room down by the locker rooms. I know the Pumas have one, and that’s where Gabriella will want to go to see Colby. It’s not a given that I’ll see Jett, but the chances are high.

“I think I’m going to grab a Let’s Ride back to your place,” I say as Gabriella and I gather up our stuff from the seats.

She arches an eyebrow. “I thought you said everything was fine with you guys. That you were talking stuff out when I saw you fighting.”

“We weren’t fighting.” Not exactly. “I just don’t want to wait around.”

“Chicken,” Gabriella says under her breath as she leads the way out of our section.

I grab her arm to twist her around toward me before we leave our row. “Gabriella. You know that trying to set us up is a bad idea, right? You know this?”

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