Page 126 of Love is a Game

“Which is?”

“Basically? Being a perfectionist, I hired the best team, I use premium products, and I handcraft everything. My overheads are enormous and my output…isn’t.”

“Pen, I can help.”

“Maybe you can. But not with money. Not by offering me funding or buying me out.”

“But—”

“No, Tuck,” she says firmly. “It’s the same with the money I inherited from Mom. It’s not massive, but it’s something. And at first, I considered using it to prop things up, but—”

“You’d lose it. Your core business model is unsustainable.”

“Right. And I tried so hard to pretend otherwise.” Her voice is sad and deflated. “But now, my landlord’s decided to jack up the rent. So there’s no dodging it; it’s obvious I have to downsize. But Tuck, I can’t just kill the lights and walk out. I’ve got my staff to consider. Clients who believed in me. I need a plan. Something strategic—before everything implodes.”

“But wait,” I scramble for options. “What about the wedding? The dress you’re designing for Mia—it will be everywhere! People will flock to your business. That’s a huge opportunity.”

“I know. But what’s the point if I can’t upscale production? A better option will be to go more exclusive, I guess…But I never wanted that. I’m actually not sure yet.”

“So. The studio. Want me to do it?”

“Maybe you could recommend someone?”

“Yeah. Me.”

“Can we switch to FaceTime?”

I pull the phone back as the video pops through, Pen adjusting her position in front of the camera. Her deep brown eyes, those full lips…fuck I want her so bad.

“Hi.” She smiles, running a hand through her hair.

“Hi, Pen.”

I look over the planes of her face, her skin. As if I need to familiarize myself with her when I already know every inch of her body intimately. But, wait—

“What’s that on your wrist?”

“Oh, this?” She waves the bandaged hand erratically. “Just me being clumsy. It’s nothing.”

“And your bracelet?”

She drops the hand, and her eyes follow. “Yeah, seems its time was up. Maybe it’s a sign that I need to face my fears instead of hiding from them.” She shrugs. “Or maybe bargain bracelets come with an expiration date.”

We stare at each other. And I strive to pick up on the meaning. An apology, being open about her problems, her missing security bracelet…what does all that add up to? My mind snags trying to decipher meaning where there might be nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

“Tuck—” She moves her hair from her neck, and my hands ache to hold her. “Surely you’re too busy to handle that job yourself?”

“Turns out I have some time on my hands…waiting to see how an important negotiation pans out.”

Her eyes glint. “I really hope the negotiation falls in your favor.”

“Well, since it’s with the most stubborn, argumentative, frustrating woman I’ve ever met—it could take some time.”

A smirk. “I see. Well, I promise to make negotiations as transparent as possible and provide some confidence that we may be able to advance things rapidly.”

“Well. I might need a lot of convincing, Pen,” I say honestly. “But I sure hope you can. I hope you want this as much as I do.”

Her eyes are glassy with tears, but I’ve learned not to mistake emotion for certainty.

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