Page 46 of Unless It's You
Stella nods. “But that’s such a huge thing now. Everyone under the age of twenty-five treats social media platforms like their search engine.”
I shake my head. “I go on Facebook about once a year, and I only occasionally check out the other ones for marketing purposes. But in my job, we have whole departments that specialize in that, so I don’t have to know it all.”
When I look back up, she’s giving me a funny look. “Facebook’s not my favorite either.”
“But I think she could use a Year One profit-and-loss statement.”
“You’re right.” She’s now intently staring down at her mobile, her brow creased, blond hair falling at either side of her head like a smooth waterfall, looking fucking adorable.
“I can create a simplified spreadsheet for her to complete. I’ll make it really basic.”
“That would be amazing,” Stella murmurs. “And I’m thinkingwe get her to translate this into five or six impactful slides instead of a multi-page document.”
We.I swallow. “Does she have any paid advertising in here?”
“Not clear. I’m not sure she really understands how much brands pay to advertise on social platforms. Her plan needs a balance of paid and unpaid media for sure.”
I nod. “I’ll send you that template and will be happy to look at it when she’s done.”
Stella locks her mobile and lays it on the table. “Thank you.”
“Here to help. So, am I earning my money as your advisor?”
Color rises to her cheeks. “Yes, I’d say you are.”
“This is definitely not cheating.”
“It’s not.”
“But about the other ones?—”
“Let’s not go there, okay?” Her eyes flutter shut.
What’s going on in her head?Bloody hell, I wish I knew.
“Hart. I think you need help,” I say. “Actual help. Not just some bullshit signature saying you did the things your aunt Evelyn wanted you to do. Let me really help you where I can.” My voice is low and raspy. Her eyes are still closed, and I lean forward. If I slipped my hand behind her head, I could pull her close to me and bring our lips together. We’re that close. My heart races.
Her eyes fly open and focus on mine, then flit down to my mouth. She’s thinking it, too. I know it.
But instead of leaning forward and kissing me, she pushes her chair back abruptly and stands.
“I need to use the restroom.”
And she bolts away from the table.
Away from me.
19
STELLA
BUCKET LIST DAY 9
In the empty pub bathroom, I lean on the cold porcelain sink and stare at myself in the smudged mirror. My heart is pounding and my cheeks are flushed, like I’ve had a handful of pints, not one glass of wine. I’m disheveled, my hair tousled from running my hands through it on the way here, thinking about meeting up with Ethan.
Do I want to let Ethan closer to me? Let him help me—likereallyhelp me—with Evelyn’s bucket list? Do I wantanyone’shelp, ever?
No, I never do. That’s the easy answer. I do things on my own. I live alone. I make all the decisions. I don’t let people close—especially men. Because the thing is, I know they’ll just leave me eventually, one way or the other. Like my dad did when I was eleven. Like Hunter did a decade ago. So I shut them out instead. I leavethem. I do it to every guy I date, including Ben.
