Page 49 of Love Arranged
Everyone speaks at once, and it’s chaotic trying to absorb all their responses.
“Wait. Lorenzo volunteers at the shelter?”
“I didn’t know he liked animals.”
“Lily and Lorenzo? There’s no way. Julianhateshim.”
My gaze flicks to the ceiling.
This is what you get for trying to be nice.
Willow halts her pacing and drops into the chair beside me. “I’m interested in seeing how this all plays out.”
“In what sense?”
“It’s Public Relations 101. If you—a man without any connections to the town—are seen with one of the most beloved residents, it’s bound to have a positive effect on your approval rating.”
“Are you suggesting I hang around Lily some more?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek. “I shouldn’t after the stunt you pulled on her.”
“But if it’s good for the campaign…”
She releases a reluctant breath. “Then I suppose it’s worth a try.”
“How much influence could a few encounters have?”
“They brought her homemade soup, Lorenzo. Youknow what happened to me when I got the stomach bug in January?”
“You got soup too?”
“No, I wish. I was stuck heating up a can of Campbell’s while Lily, the people’s princess, was given the royal treatment.” She follows up with a laugh, so at least she isn’t bitter about the favoritism. “It makes perfect sense why people would react so positively to you taking care of her. They adore her.”
The other night, I was reacting out of pure instinct when Lily got sick, so I’m surprised people care more about that than all the good deeds I’ve done on purpose.
Throwing a charity softball game to raise funds for a park? People were happy, and the polls reflected that, but it didn’t have a huge impact on my overall ratings.
Investing my personal time and injecting money into small businesses around town in exchange for company equity because I want them to flourish? Great for the town and venture capitalism, but no one talks about it because needing money is a sensitive topic.
But helping Lily Muñoz when she’s sick? Nowthatinterests people, and it cost me nothing more than a pair of thousand-dollar shoes, an extra dose of Vitamin C, and washing my hands until my skin was cracked and bleeding.
Great. I bite back a groan.
“I think we should do a little experiment,” Willow says once the focus group moves on to answering another question.
“Based on the smile on your face, I’m good.”
“What if I told you there’s a chance it could impact your polling numbers?”
“In that case, I’m a huge fan of the scientific method.”
When I call Nura the next morning to switch my time slot at the animal shelter, claiming I can’t make it for my usual shift, she laughs and says it’s no problem. After yesterday’s focus group, I had a feeling she would give me the same volunteer block as Lily, and my intuition was right.
The only issue? I had no idea Lily’s shift was taking place at the Park Promenade, where the shelter is hosting an event to encourage adoptions.
During the first hour of our shift, Lily hangs out with the dogs underneath the canine tent while I work the parking lot, encouraging people to stop by the shelter’s pop-up adoption center. Thanks to the afternoon sun hanging over us, my volunteer shirt sticks to my back, and my nose and cheeks are getting progressively more burnt.
Despite volunteering at the shelter, I don’tinteractwith any animals. I prefer it that way, and I have a childhood trauma of losing my own dog to blame.
