Page 7 of Kiss and Makeup
Because there wasn’t. There couldn’t be. I’d been over Xavier for years…
“Ma’am? What would you like to order, Ma’am?”
I blinked away memories and brought the menu above the counter into focus. “Just a regular coffee, please. Medium.”
Much too quickly, my coffee was pressed into my hands and I had no choice but to return to the table.
Xavier looked up from a notepad he had been scribbling on. “I have your estimate. Why don’t we compare it with your budget and see if we’re in the ballpark.”
“Of course.” I set down my steaming beverage and reached for my case again.
The estimate ended being a little higher than what we had managed to negotiate with ReNova. I didn’t mention this in my quest for a better rate, as Cruise Media would have to know that one of their rivals had closed their doors. Most of my bargaining chips had faded with the lateness of the season, leaving me only with a few options.
As I negotiated the contract, I also managed to keep our discussion strictly business—a difficult feat. Xavier had been deterred, but not quite given up. He made a few veiled attempts to bring business around to personal conversation.
I deflected each one. We had nothing to talk about that hadn’t been said in the past.
Besides, this Xavier who sat opposite me with sheaves of papers, price estimates, and exercised shrewd bargaining tactics wasn’t the one I remembered. Something about his character had changed, but I didn’t know what or how to put my finger on exactly what it was.
“How much are you willing to compromise?”
The words mirrored my thoughts and I had to smile to hide that he’d thrown me off balance. “Sorry?”
“On the length of the ads for the blush. How much are you willing to compromise?” Xavier asked again.
How much should you be willing to compromise for another person? How much should you be willing to change?I’d asked myself those questions as Xavier had fallen more and more in love with me, and I had become more committed to my goals in the business world. “Times aren’t set, and when I speak with the employee of Cruise Media who will direct the commercials, I’ll be open to suggestions.”
Not enough to jeopardize my future and my goals. But how much change was too much?
In the end, after several minutes of discussing what would cost how much, I managed to strike a deal that ran just under BeautyBee’s budget and it seemed to satisfy Xavier.
When we stood to shake on it, he made it clear that it would satisfy him even more if we could talk on a personal level. I made it equally clear I was nothing more than his client and had no intention of rehashing our past.
“So, 12 PM tomorrow?” I clarified. “For that tour of the location we’ll be using during the creation of the ad campaign?”
“Yes, and I’ll te—email you the address.” Text? His slip-up didn’t escape me. “I have your business card.”
“Good,” I said because I felt that someone needed to.
“I may also be able to introduce you to the planner and director of your campaign during the tour, if I can get someone lined up by then.”
Okay, now he was just dragging out the conversation. This needed to end, and I needed to get back to Emma.
Imagining my little girl gave me that little push I needed to end this meeting with the correct amount of professionalism. I smiled at something Xavier said that would have made me laugh under less unexpected circumstances and packed up my case. Then, I hastened through goodbyes and hurried out of the coffee shop as soon as it was appropriate.
Did he watch me leave? Almost definitely.
Did I look back to check? Absolutely not.
Maybe I hadn’t expected this, but I could handle it. They say the past repeats itself, and so far whatever supposedly wise person had said that was correct.
In college, I’d always been the responsible one. Xavier had loved spending every free second of his day with me on top of some seconds that he really couldn’t spare.
“Don’t you have a test tomorrow?” I waved my legs back and forth, lying comfortably on my stomach with Principles of Business II open on the bed in front of me.
“Well, yeah, but I feel like I’m ready. And I deserve a break.” On his knees, his best puppy-dog eyes just level with my own, he was practically irresistible.
Practically. “No,” I said firmly, “you don’t. Working out and playing football after you’re done doesn’t count toward study time, Xavier. Two hours—” His pretty-pretty-please face nearly got me, but I persevered. “No no no. Bad. Two hours of studying, okay? Two good, solid hours without football videos on YouTube.”
