Page 17 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
Tearing myself away from the centerpieces, and my hounding thoughts, I find the first guests are arriving. It’s mostly Rooted Pantry employees, arriving together in small groups. I greet everyone by name, having made getting to know each person a priority in the first week.
As more guests filter in, the party begins to take on a life of its own. The jazz quartet plays softly in the background, conversation and laughter fill the air, and the golden Seattle sunset casts everything in a warm glow. It's exactly the atmosphere I'd hoped for.
And then I see her.
Alice arrives alone, pausing at the entrance to the backyard. She's wearing a casual, floral dress that falls just below her knees, her brown hair swept into an elegant updo. Simple gold earrings catch the light when she turns her head, surveying the party.
She looks beautiful and completely out of place among everyone else on Earth. An angel among mortals.
I make my way toward her, weaving through clusters of guests.
"You made it," I say as I reach her, trying to sound casually pleased rather than desperately relieved. I was nervous that she might decide to skip the event after all.
"I said I would." Her expression is guarded but not hostile. Progress, perhaps.
"Can I get you a drink?" I offer, nodding toward the nearest bar.
"Sure. A gin and tonic, please.”
The bartender is quick with our drinks, and I see Alice smirk when I order the same cocktail as her. She probably thinks it’s another attempt at ingratiation.
Well… she’d be right.
"Quite the party," she remarks, taking a small sip. "Your home is beautiful."
"Thank you. I don't entertain often, so it's nice to put the space to use."
She takes in the lakefront view, the carefully landscaped gardens. "It must get lonely, all this space for one person."
The observation catches me off guard. "I suppose it can be. I'm not home much, to be honest."
"Too busy with work?" There's no bite to her words, just quiet curiosity.
“It’s… kind of all I know.” I stuff my free hand into a pants’ pocket. “When you spend years having to focus on your career, not having time for anything else… it can be hard to shift gears later on.”
Her gaze lingers on me, and she finally nods. “I understand completely.”
For a moment, I think we might have a real conversation — about the past, about the choices we've made, about the lives we've built separately. But then Sydney appears, her arm linked with a tall man I don’t recognize.
"Alice! Oscar! This is Derek."
The moment breaks, and we're pulled back into the usual party small talk. I watch Alice slip into professional mode, explaining Rooted Pantry's history to Sydney’s date with practiced ease. She's good with people, always has been. It was one of the things that made us such effective partners back in college. I handled the numbers and strategy; she handled the human element.
As the afternoon slowly turns into evening, I circulate among the guests, making sure everyone has what they need. But I can't help tracking Alice's movements from the corner of my eye, taking note of every step she takes, every person she speaks to.
What I don’t expect is for her to step onto the stage while the quartet is taking a break, to adjust the microphone to her height, and command the attention of everyone on the property.
"If I could have everyone's attention for a moment," she calls, her voice carrying across the yard.
The chatter dies down as guests turn toward her. I move closer, a moth to a flame.
"I wanted to take a moment to thank our host," Alice continues, raising her glass slightly in my direction. "Many of you know that I wasn't initially thrilled about this acquisition."
A ripple of knowing laughter passes through the Rooted Pantry employees.
"But in the past week, I've been reminded that change isn't always a bad thing." Her eyes find mine in the crowd. "Oscar has promised to honor the vision and values that make Rooted Pantry special, and that's more than I expected. So, here's to new beginnings and successful partnerships."
Murmurs of agreement and the clinking of glasses follow her toast. I'm frozen in place, stunned by this unexpected olive branch. When our eyes meet across the crowded yard, she gives me a small, genuine smile — the first since I walked back into her life.
