Page 45 of Champagne Fizz

“I’ll figure out if we should talk to Olivia about my mom,” he says, standing up and taking the coconut coffee with him. “And I’ll decide if it’s best for you to call my mother or me.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate all this.”

Connor nods, heading toward the outdoor exit, but then he turns to get in one last comment. “Just lay off the goo-goo eyes with Simon.”

“I’m not—!”

“You’re not good at hiding what you’re thinking,” Conner interrupts, pointing at my face like it’s evidence. “Arie isn’t interested in Simon in a romantic way. She’s just overprotective.”

“You said that already,” I mumble.

“She’s not going to be nice, and she definitely doesn’t want you stealing her best friend.”

“I’m not stealing anyone!” I say, exacerbated, picking up the magazine and shaking it at Connor. “I’m doing my job.”

“That’s what Simon likes to say too,” Connor replies. “But then the two of you are blushing and batting your eye lashes at each other and all flirty. He’s got it bad for you too.”

“Did he tell you that?” I ask, way too curious.

Connor points at me again. “You see, that’s the wrong response if you want me to believe you’re not into Nerd City.Afterthe wedding, Kendall.” Connor heads toward the surfboard gate. “Get Ned and Olivia to walk down the aisle first and tie the knot,thenyou can fantasize about what kind of calculators Simon keeps in those trousers.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m not—”

“After the wedding!” he repeats, waving to me as he leaves.

“I’m not into Simon!” I yell after him, but Lady Lada is calling BS. She’s already luau-ing at ten thirty in the morning, cause it sounds like Simon’s also got the hots for me—which is bad news.

This is very simple. All I have to do is ignore Simon. Read these magazines. Put away my pride, and lock my libido in an indestructible box. Aaaaand … maybe also drown Lady Lada in the ocean if she’s going to hula all afternoon and not simmer the fuzz down.

Simple.

That’s what Connor said. Simple.

12

KENDALL

Ispend the rest of the day looking through the magazines Simon gave me. Connor told me to stop being a snob and try.

So … I’m trying.

I turn my entire evening into a full-fledged power session. My apartment in the Honolulu Hill is a mountain of craft supplies: glue sticks, scissors, magazine images everywhere. Olivia would definitely approve of my all-in vision board extravagance.

And of course, Sue Blade’s podcast is blasting through the speakers.

Take accountability and do something about it.

To my surprise, I’ve managed to come up with several looks that feel like they fit both Olivia’s style and the Queen of Flambé’s unreasonable standards of perfection. It turns out the bookmarked images aren’t hideous. Though, I did have to ignore Arie’s mean comments, and focus on the notes that sayOlivia loves this. I’m thankful that Arie at least bothered to ask the bride her opinion.

And … I must concede, Flambé isn’t a complete den of evil debauchery. Or at least, it’s aprettyden of debauchery. It has a great view, moody lighting, and solid architecture. Plus, Arie’s desserts are very artistic. There’s a lot I can work with for a wedding: black-on-black crushed velvet suits, an overhead chandelier I can hang with Orchids, plenty of nooks for swags of moss and eucalyptus. The dark atmosphere could go great with deer antler accents, or gold lanterns, or red ribbons with a hint of the Gothic.

Point being, there are options.

The second I decided to embrace Arie’s aesthetic was the moment that—well, inspiration started to pour out of me like an overzealous biblical plague. You can fight something, or you can just give in.

I make a plan to visit my favorite vintage shops and rental house in the morning. I’m going to create three table mock-ups with three possible looks that Olivia and Arie can choose from.

Hook.

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