Page 81 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

I’ve never been so exhausted—or so happy.

Planning a party is something I do in theory—I figure out what I want and then tell the right people, who make it happen. Never my mother, or at least not since I was ten and Ashton and I had a joint Cars birthday party and I had a meltdown when we started opening presents and everyone brought Ashton something Cars related but not me.

After that, I would decide what theme I wanted for my birthday party—I never had a joint one withAshton again until our twenty-first—and I would tell one of my parents’ assistants and they would make it happen.

They were good parties; my father liked things perfect, which is why he married my mother, who does appear perfect on the outside. The assistants and the housekeepers organized and planned, setting up and taking down, and even buying me the mountain of gifts that came from being another year older.

But I never did any of the work on these parties until now.

And there is a lot of work to be done.

Once Sophie and I finish painting, I focus on the creaking floorboards by the window and the toilet that keeps running in the men’s washroom. I fix the floorboards by laying a parquet square over top to use as a dance floor. Silas got it for me, and it’s the perfect size.

Of course, he had it delivered to the door and I wouldn’t let him come in because I want the décor to be a surprise for him.

As for the toilet, I jiggled the handle until I broke the chain clean off. The husband of the baker moonlights as a plumber, and I got him to fix it for me.

I’ve gotten to know quite a few of the storekeepers around the square. I like to think of them as my people.

My father has people to plan his parties and put things in motion, and now so do I.

I think I’m going to be able to pull this off. In fact, I know I am.

There’s a funny feeling when I turn off the light before I go home.

It’s pride.

Chapter thirty-two

Silas

Ikeep away fromFenella when she’s not working for me for my own safety/sanity. And because she told me to.

In her words, Fenella said, “I don’t want you to see it until it’s all ready.”

It’s three days before her party, and I have no idea what the first floor looks like. Nor am I going to tonight, because it’s the annual pumpkin carving evening at The King’s Hat.

Prince Kalle and Edie have been hosting this for years: any of the storekeepers in Battle Harbour are welcome to come to Kalle’s pub a few days before Halloween and carve one of the pumpkins that Edie’s father donates. And then everyone puts their jack-o’-lantern in front of their door to make the downtown more festive.

Fenella is closing with me today. “What needs to be done tonight?” I ask as she wipes the counter.

For an indulged billionaire influencer, or whatever she’s called, Fenella has turned into a pretty good employee. Sure, there are times she’s on her phone and a customer is standingpatiently waiting for her, but she’s polite and cheerful and always ready to laugh at herself if she doesn’t know something.

The customers have fallen in love with her as quickly as she gains followers.

It’s hard to believe she hasn’t even been here for two weeks.

Twelve days, and another four to go. And after that…

“I don’t have anything to do,” Fenella says happily. “I’m buying the alcohol tomorrow, and my lights should be in tomorrow as well. Lots to do tomorrow night, but tonight is wide open.”

“Do you want to carve a pumpkin with me?”

“Well, that’s definitely a first,” she teases.

It’s soeasywith Fenella. We’re comfortable, like an old shirt that’s been worn and worn until it’s almost worn through. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a spark.

Or, I think there is. I still haven’t convinced myself that kissing Fenella would be a good idea.

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