Page 99 of Wilder at Heart
The reminder of Theo’s imminent departure bursts my bubble pretty damn quickly.
‘I have a small pipeline,’ I admit, ‘though it thins out once the summer’s over. But I’m hoping this wedding is high profile enough to get my name out there a bit more.’
‘If you want a more regular gig,’—she takes a sip of her coffee—‘come and be our in-house planner. You’d be great.’
I stare at her. ‘Seriously?’
‘Deadly. It’s insane that I’m having to do this. We had someone in-house, but she left, and she was more an admin than anything else. I want someone who knows their stuff and can split their time between pitching and planning. We should be doing far more weddings and events, but we don’t have the capacity to go on the offensive. I’m pulled in so many directions. We need someone to manage our events—a proper professional. I like you a lot, and I enjoy working with you. You’d do a great job. Think about it.’
After she kisses me goodbye and leaves me to my work with that bombshell to mull over, I check my phone. There’s a message from Jonathan.
Really need to talk to you Nor. When’s a good time to meet up? X
Fuck.
I put my head in my hands. If someone could hand me a crystal ball and tell me how everything will pan out, that would just be great. Because I have an ex-boyfriend who may or may not be about to roll over and fall into line with my life plan. A job offer—anamazingjob offer—I didn’t see coming.
And an ex-fake-boyfriend I can’t stop pining over for long enough to get my head in the game for my other plans.
I could use some Michelle Obama wisdom right now. But when I ask myself WWMD—what would Michelle do—I don’t have a fucking clue. Because, obviously, Michelle would never have got herself into such a mess in the first place.
CHAPTER 37
Theo
‘You’re Nora’s boyfriend, Theo. Correct?’
I turn to the woman standing by the Oast House’s front desk. She has a good twenty years on me. I don’t usually go for older women, but she’s a total knockout. Tall and willowy, with an intricate arrangement of braids wrapped around her head. She’s in chef’s whites. This must be Zoe. Nora’s mentioned her a few times—waxed lyrical, more like.
‘I am.’ I extend my hand, and we shake. I can’t deny the thrill that goes through my entire body at her turn of phrase.Nora’s boyfriend.Even if it’s less accurate than she thinks.
‘We’ll have a table for you in just a second. Right, Trish?’ she says to the host standing next to her. Her accent is soft. French. I know I live in one of the most hectic cities in the world, but Zoe’s smile is so peaceful, I swear she should bottle it.
‘Yup,’ Trish says. ‘Take a seat. The table will be five minutes.’
She gestures at a nearby sofa. I thank them and turn to leave, but Zoe holds out a newspaper to me.
‘Something to browse. While you wait.’ She thrusts it into my hand, her smile expectant. Encouraging.
Weird. I get the strangest vibe from her as I take it. Like someone’s walked over my grave. Goosebumps. I shake it off.
I settle on the sofa, one ankle up and resting on my other thigh, and idly turn the pages of the paper. It’s a local rag—theKent Chronicle. Full of the usual crap about local councillors and gymkhanas and primary school summer fetes and other bullshit. I’m not sure why I’m bothering to leaf through it, except that pulling out my phone in this place seems rude. Inappropriate.
Until I turn the page and an image hits me. And then I really do get goosebumps. They erupt all over my body.
I stare at it. Holy fucking shit. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? On instinct, I jerk my head up and look over to Zoe. She’s watching me, and she gives me a smiling nod.
I whip out my phone.
‘I offered your girlfriend a job,you know,’ Evelyn says conversationally when she’s joined me a few minutes later.
‘What—here?’
‘Yes. We need an in-house wedding and event planner, and she’s really blown me away.’
My mind reels. This could be great for Nora. She’d nail it, and it would be a steady stream of work at a prestigious resort. She could really sink her teeth into this role.
‘She’d be incredible—but what did she say?’
