“It could be,” he said, leaning forward. “With the right pitch and the right numbers.”
“Still wanting to invest?” I asked, half-joking.
“Maybe I am,” he replied, his tone serious. “You’re sitting on a goldmine, Anica. Your approach, your attention to detail, your client management. It’s all scalable. With the right business plan and funding, you could be the premier wedding planning service on the East Coast.”
I stared at him, caught off guard by his interest in my business. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” he said confidently. “I don’t back losers, and you’re anything but. You’ve got vision, talent, and work ethic. A rare, but impressive combination.”
Excitement bubbled inside me. It wasn’t just the compliment, though that was nice, but the fact that he saw the business potential in what I did. So many people dismissed wedding planning as too niche. Callan didn’t.
“I’ve actually been working on a business plan,” I admitted. “For expansion into Boston and DC first, then maybe Chicago.”
“Smart,” he nodded. “Regional saturation before going national. Less risk, more controlled growth.”
“Exactly,” I agreed, surprised and pleased that he understood my strategy. “The wedding industry is all about word-of-mouth and reputation. You can’t just parachute into a new market and expect?—”
His phone buzzed, interrupting me. He glanced at the screen, and a small smile crossed his lips.
“Sorry,” he said, quickly typing a response. “Just confirming plans for tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Second date with Angie,” he explained, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “She wants to try that new rooftop restaurant in Tribeca.”
“Angie,” I repeated. Already at the nickname stage. Peachy. The bubbles of excitement I’d had a moment earlier popped and evaporated. “That’s... great. I’m glad it’s going well.”
“She’s pretty amazing,” he agreed with that smile. “Smart, funny, accomplished. We talked for hours at lunch yesterday.”
“I noticed,” I said, then winced internally at how that sounded. “I mean, that’s excellent. She meets all your criteria. A perfect match.”
“Seems that way. Thanks for finding her. You really are good at your job.”
“Just doing what you’re paying me for,” I replied.
An awkward silence fell between us, the easy camaraderie of moments before gone.
“I should get back,” I said, gathering my trash. “Can’t leave the booth unattended for too long.”
“Right,” Callan agreed, standing. “Wouldn’t want to miss any potential clients.”
I walked slightly ahead of him, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions in my chest. This was good. This was what I wanted. Callan and Angelina—Angie—were hitting it off. The arrangement would proceed as planned. The contract would be fulfilled. Everything was going perfectly.
“I need to make a quick call before we head back,” I said, stopping abruptly. “You go ahead.”
“You sure?” he asked, studying my face.
“Positive,” I forced a smile. “And Callan? Thank you again for your help today. It means a lot.”
“Anytime,” he said, his hands in his pockets. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
Friends. Right. That’s exactly what we were.
“Right,” I agreed. “Friends.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and walked away. I watched him go, telling myself that the heaviness in my chest was just fatigue from the stressful morning. Nothing more.
I’d found Callan his perfect match. I should be pleased. Proud, even. It was a professional triumph.
