Page 86 of Some Like It Hott

And he’s telling me, as someone who knows me?—

That I’ve got this.

It’s going to be okay.

Natalie and I—we’re going to make this work.

And it’s the best news I’ve ever heard.

Better than a promotion, for fucking sure.

He crosses his arms, not waiting for a response from me. “But as the guy whoreallywants to keep his job, can I suggest we tackle the other problem first? Because as much as I want you to live happily ever after, my personal interest lies much more with your professional success. Can we solve the PowerFun/MegaStar problem andthenfigure out how not to fuck things up withNatalie? How about I get you a coffee? While you pull your head out of your ass and try to figure out how to keep PowerFun from wrecking their own deal?”

Grateful, I say, “Americano. Black.”

“You know, you could shake it up every once in a while. Just to keep things interesting for me.”

I’m about to saynah, but then it’s my turn to shrug. “Sure,” I say. “Bring me something different.”

“You’re letting me choose?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Surprise me.”

At the door, Franklin hesitates. “I know I’m just an executive assistant,” he says, “but if there’s anything I can do to help, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

I sigh. “Not sure there’s much,” I say. “Unless you can convince the most uptight guy in business to loosen up enough to prove that he understands the concept of fun.”

Franklin’s eyebrows go up so far so fast I’m afraid they’re going to tangle in his hair.

It takes me a minute to hear what I’ve said.

What would Natalie do?

I knowexactlywhat Natalie would do.

“Right,” I say. “Okay. Bring me that coffee, and then get ready to take some notes because I know how we’re gonna fix this.”

45

Natalie

As soon as the festival ends, Hott Springs Eternal inaugurates its first few activities—the Wedding Launch, flower arranging, Wine and Paint night, and the ever-popular Jell-O wrestling and Nerf battle. They’re all a resounding success. We’re deep into wedding season now, and the sign-ups are filled almost instantly, with waiting lists forming for all the activities. Everything goes as smoothly as can be expected (we won’t talk about the paint I can’tquiteget out of the HSE dining room floor; I’m working on better floor coverings for the next round), and I feel…

Mostly empty.

Because the person I most want to share my success with isn’t here.

I have hundreds of photos of people enjoying our offerings, some of which I posted to social media, but most of which I just page through, wishing I could text them to Preston but not wanting to deluge him with texts I know he doesn’t have the time to respond to right now.

Especially the one of Hanna looking down at the world’s most half-assed flower arrangement. (That’s why I hire people to do that part,she said grumpily as I took the photo.)

Impetuously, I send him the photo, captioned with Hanna’s grumpy utterance.

And wait.

And wait.

Our communication has been painfully spotty this whole week. But this is the first time he’s completely ignored me—and as much as I’d like to be impervious, I’m not. I’m hurt.

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