Page 11 of Fixer for the Billionaire

"Ooh, intrigue," Puddle teases.

"No. No intrigue. Just a misunderstanding."

Glitter and Puddle exchange knowing looks. "Ah, miscommunication. The downfall of many relationships," Glitter nods solemnly.

Puddle offers a sympathetic pat. "We've all been there, Mr. Anderson. It's universally relatable. Maybe we can infuse some healing energy into your...situation."

"It's not a situation. I..." I sigh, realizing arguing is futile. Since arriving, my decor consultants have been a relentless duo of mystics, and escape is futile. "Look, Carmina and I met at the Hare & Holeton company retreat three years ago. It was supposed to be bonding over s'mores and team-building exercises. And we...bonded."

"And then?" Glitter prompts.

"Then, well, we had our moment. Thought it was just a bit of fun, you know? But back at the office, it was like I'd transformed from Prince Charming into the office pariah overnight. She's been so cold, I’ve considered wearing a parka to meetings."

"Awww, young love," Puddle coos, clasping his hands together. "So beautiful, yet so fragile."

"Maybe it's not too late for a thaw. Every ice age ends, right?" Glitter suggests.

Puddle leans in, eyes twinkling. "Intriguing, Quentin. Your spirit is like a kite in a storm. Maybe it's rooted in your childhood? Your parents' dynamic, perhaps?”

"Um, I think we're off track..." I try to interject, but they're already deep in a discussion about my emotional state.

Glitter leans in, her gaze both intense and kind. "Ah, I’m thinking the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, perhaps? Your aura is telling me that you have a spirit of freedom, a desire to roam..."

"Okay, let's not psychoanalyze me. Back to the task?"

"Yes, of course," Puddle agrees, tapping a glitter-coated clipboard against his leg. "But remember, Quentin, our past shapes us--"

"And I'd be more interested if it mattered, guys." I exhale deeply, frustration mounting. "My parents died in a car accident. Sixteen years ago." I pause. "And honestly, I'm more concerned about the party budget than adding magical creatures and '70s dance nostalgia."

Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I'm about to suggest something less extravagant than a unicorn (maybe a tastefully decorated llama?) when my phone buzzes.

Puddle and Glitter, mid-gape, freeze as I raise a finger.

"Hold that thought, Puddle. This is her," I say, answering on speakerphone. "Hey, Carmina. Everything okay? You didn't get abducted by aliens, did you?"

In the background, Glitter mutters, "Please say no, because alien abductions definitely aren't covered in the party budget."

Sighing, I start pacing, the boutique's air chilling the back of my neck as if it's been waiting for a moment like this. "Why are you panting? Are you running?"

After a pause, Carmina's breathless voice comes through. "I might be... slightly stranded."

From across the room, Glitter's eyes go wide, and they whisper to Puddle, "We definitely didn't budget for an emergency helicopter pick-up."

But before I can drill down on her location, Carmina spills it. "I'm on the side of the road."

"Wait, what? How'd you end up there?" I ditch the speakerphone as Puddle and Glitter share a look of concern.

"A couple of missteps," her voice raspier than usual. "So, here's the deal... My tire blew, and the insurance company's 'Rapid Response' was more 'No Response.' So, guess what? I channeled my inner mechanic and tried to change it myself."

"You changing a tire? I thought your idea of manual labor was using a stapler."

She huffs. "Hilarious. For your information, I did an amazing job... until I drove on it. The spare didn't survive. Now, it's just me and the girls stranded."

"Wait, the girls? Who are?—?"

"My sisters," she interjects. The backdrop of traffic and her tone paint a clear picture. "Was taking them to their activities this morning. Now, I'm stuck with a flat tire, a bored teenager, and a chatterbox pre-teen." She pauses. "So, I'm not making it today."

Her admission makes me sigh.

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