Page 8 of Thanks for the Memories
After Gabby goes to her room to call Theo back, I continue daydreaming about spending time with Dante. Maybe our time has finally come, or maybe we aren’t compatible. If that’s the case, we’ll remain Dante and Reagan—just friends.
Ugh, I wish that thought didn’t make me feel so disappointed.
Chapter Three
“Ireally think we need to add a little extra pop,” I say, putting the pen cap to my lips.
I’m standing in the corner and accessing the layout of the ballroom.
“Another pop, huh?” Jeremy teases.
I snap my fingers. “Pops are my thing.”
One of my biggest strengths when it comes to my work is attention to detail. I can usually spot when an event needs one last thing to really pack a punch or make a statement. For some reason, everyone thinks it’s funny that I call it a pop, especially Jeremy. The important thing is that my boss Carl sees my vision, and that’s good enough for me.
“So, what’s happening with you?” I ask Jeremy.
He shrugs. “I finally went out with my neighbor’s friend.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, flipping through my notes. “How did it go?”
“She’s cool.”
I raise my eyes to look at him.
“She’s cool? Does that mean cool enough to go out again?”
He tilts his head back and forth. “Possibly.”
Jeremy claims he’s very picky, so any woman who’s able to hold his interest must be a good catch.
“Look at you—maturing right before our eyes.”
“Are you proud me, Blondie?” he asks with a wink.
“So proud.”
“Why are you proud?” Amanda asks, joining us.
“Reagan thinks I’m maturing,” Jeremy says with a half-smile.
“Well, it’s about time. Congrats.”
He pretends to bow. “Thank you very much.”
“So, what has he done to show this new side of himself?” she asks.
“I went on a date and said Imightgo out with her again,” he says nonchalantly.
“And I think it’s great. Maybe you’ve met your match, Mr. I’m-So-Picky.”
“We'll see. Maybe I’m just waiting for the right woman to make me a better man,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders.
Amanda rolls her eyes. This isn’t the first time we’ve discussed Jeremy’s love life. That’s what happens when you’re the only single man in the office.
“Anyway, I was just telling Jeremy that I think we need another pop in the ballroom,” I say, changing the subject. We kind of have more pressing matters to discuss, like preparing for an event for hundreds of people.
We drop the subject of Jeremy’s date and continue to prepare for our event. By the end of the day, my feet are killing me. I definitely chose the wrong shoes this morning.
