“No problem, you know I like alone time in the mornings.”
“That’s very true,” he replied. He went back to retrieve his mug and opened the fridge, pulling out fruit and yogurt. “Any salacious details about your solo morning you’d like to share?” he teased.
“Unfortunately, it was pretty wholesome. I explored the grounds a little more, took some pictures and videos of the garden and forest and stuff . . . Oh! And I saw the bikes. I was thinking we could—”
Julian’s head cocked to the side, and he quickly closed the fridge door. “Wait, did you post any photos? Photos of my house?”
Thrown off by his concerned tone, she spluttered a bit before replying, “No, just took some pictures and footage. I haven’t posted anything, but I did want to make a quick video featuring the water—”
Julian was shaking his head. “You can’t just take photos and videos in people’s homes without telling them. Why wouldn’t you ask me first?”
Cierra pursed her lips together and balled her hands. Of course she should have asked him. It’s what she always did with events and personal trips. She shouldn’t have assumed. It was his house, after all. She was a guest.
“I . . . I’m sorry. I get why you’re upset. It’s your private home, and I should’ve been more thoughtful. But I didn’t post anything, and I won’t, promise.”
The lines on Julian’s tanned forehead relaxed, his face reverting to the friendly, handsome demeanor she was used to. “I’m not trying to be a paranoid dick. I’m just a private person, you know? I don’t even have social media.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cierra teased, which elicited an understanding smile from Julian.
“Listen, I get this is a big part of your world. I just like to keep mine off the web. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” she said, walking over to him. “We good?”
They kissed, and Cierra could taste the aromatic notes of coffee and cinnamon.
“Of course. And yes, I’d love to go on a bike ride.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A FEW DAYS later, under the shaded canopy of Flatiron’s skyscrapers, Mia was cooling herself with a pink plastic hand-held fan while Cierra was frantically cross-checking a list she had written out against a cart’s worth of dining supplies. It included items like terracotta tablecloths, custom champagne glasses with Sincha etched on the bottoms, and containers to be used for food organization.
“I didn’t realize they had a store for people who have a kink for finding the tiniest, most useless plastic bins to separate hair ties and bobby pins,” Mia said.
Cierra paused and glanced at Mia above the line of her sunglasses. They had just come out of the Container Store.
“In that case, you don’t even wanna know what my pantry looks like.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
Mia continued fanning herself, despite looking more physically at ease than anyone else on the steaming Manhattan block. A final blast of summer heat emanated from the fresh black pavement and distorted the air; soon, the leaves would turn from forest-greens to the warm, coppery hues of autumn. The Lawsons would be back in Seattle, and Cierra would be . . . well that was completely up in the air. She’d made peace with the factPlatedhad passed her up again, but with Julian in the picture, she was now considering the option of continuing to be aprivate chef. Even with its downsides, she could afford to stay in the city. Managing her new relationship was hard enough living in the same city, and she couldn’t imagine long distance would be a walk in the park.
“Why am I here again?” Mia asked.
“Because I need your eye for centerpieces, and you’re going to be at this event, too, so we need to think about what we’re going to be producing. Also, you’ve never worked with Zelda before, so I need to go over some unwritten rules with you.”
Because of the success of Cierra’s own social media, Zelda and her team had officially brought on Mia as a social coordinator for Sincha Summit. And while working with her best friend occasionally put Cierra slightly on edge, ultimately, she was happy to have the support. Plus, bringing Mia along had technically been her idea in the first place. Most of Cierra’s nerves about the upcoming gig came from what Sincha Summit represented: the end of her summer contract with the Lawsons, with lingering uncertainly about what she should do next. Creative freedom, better salary, higher savings, living in New York, moving back home, more time with Julian, more time with her family, freedom with her schedule . . . soon, she would have to make decisions. Tradeoffs. But until her last paycheck cashed, spiraling could wait.
“Fine, but can we at least go to a cafe or something? I’m hungry, and my underwear is sweaty,” Mia whined.
“Sure, lead the way.”
Once the pair arrived at Pierre’s, a nearby cafe, Cierra was grateful for her friend’s insistence. Sitting down in the air conditioning felt so good she could moan. Actually, she did.
“This was a good idea,” Cierra said.
“I know,” Mia replied proudly. “But wait, before we get started, what’s going on with you? How was the trip with Julian? We barely got to talk at my party.”
The server arrived with some ice water, and Cierra greedily chugged hers before replying. Mia raised a gloating eyebrow, watching some water drip down Cierra’s face like she was a dehydrated puppy.
