Page 65 of Love You, Mean It

“Oh my god,do that,” she said, eyes wide. “Like…I was going to do what I could to help already, but if you bring these in? I’ll sell my eyeteeth to keep Greco’s open.”

“Luckily, you don’t need eyeteeth to enjoy scones.”

“This day is seriously coming up Sam.” She lifted her drink in a mock toast. “By the way, now that the cat’s out of the bag, I figured you might want a little more info on the whole ‘How could Sam possibly help kill the deal?’ front. Full disclosure, I can’t just walk in and tell everyone to scrap it. That said, Ted already sent over Mangia’s opening offer. I need to dig into the numbers, but it seems low, probably because they’re planning a total gut job, possibly even a teardown.”

“What?” I stopped with the blueberry scone halfway to my mouth. How could anyone tear down such a stunning old building?

“I guess there’s nowhere near enough square footage for their‘standard store model,’ so they’d be looking to expand the footprint. There’s all kinds of inside baseball stuff I could go into on comps for commercial real estate, carrying costs of leases versus the profits from a sale…” She rolled her hand through the air, miming all the details I allegedly understood. “Point is, there’s almost definitely a strong business argument for passing on their offer, or at least looking around to see what else might be out there.”

“I guess that’s reassuring?”

“Trust me, it is. At the very least it’ll buy some time.” She popped a bite of scone into her mouth, raising her eyebrows. “But enough boring business stuff. You said you had an idea?”

It had struck me in the middle of the night, as I lay awake staring at the popcorn ceiling in my shitty apartment, the buzz from the engagement party finally worn off enough for me to stop feeling sorry for myself—over a man Ididn’t even want,mind you. Lord knows I’d been around the block enough times to realize sexual chemistry did not a solid relationship make, and everything else about us was just…mismatched. Mimi could see that. Up until the last week or so Ihadseen that.

But with my brain firmly back in the driver’s seat my genitals had briefly hijacked, I’d realized the perfect way to jump-start Sam’s plan, one so well suited to Theo’sandmy needs, there was no way it would raise alarm bells.

“Everett’s single, right?”

“As far as I know.”

“Be honest: Has he ever been into you?”

I was ninety percent sure I knew the answer—I’d seen the way his eyes trailed Sam at the party, how his face lit up when she joined the group.

“Maybe? We met when Theo and I were together, it’s not like he ever made a move.”

“Real talk, though?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sam shrugged and looked off to the side.

“So if you were to ask him to hang out…”

“He’d probably say yes. But what’s the angle. Jealousy?” Sam frowned as she considered this. “He might not eventellTheo, especially if things don’t lead anywhere. And like…Everett’s hot, obviously, but I hadn’t planned on hooking up with other people for this.”

“You won’t have to hook up with him. Unless you want to.” I smirked, leaning forward, conspiratorial. “And I think we can guarantee Theo sees you two together. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

“Not that I’m not thrilled to spend the morning with my gorgeous fiancée, but why tennis?” Theo slid into one of the spots near Belle Glen’s enclosed courts, throwing the car into Park before turning tome.

“Would you prefer golf?” I gestured at the snow-covered grounds.

“There’s always the driving range.”

“Fahtoo down-market,” I said in my bestDownton Abbeyvoice. “The range ispublic, dah-ling.” Theo grinned impishly.

“Which means that many more people would see us together.” He leaned across the console, eyelids going heavy as he neared me. My heart started ping-ponging dangerously. “All the better to put on a show, no?”

Nope, no way. Not the point, not of today, not of this entire arrangement. I rolled my eyes and opened my door.

“As far as this plan is concerned, there’s people and there’speople. After all, don’t you want Ted’s friends to think I’m all in on becoming a Taylor? Regular Belle Glen appearances are practically a requirement.”

We made our way into the vast geodesic bubble that enclosed three courts, ball hoppers, and an automatic serving machine scattered around the edges. On the benches nearest the door, Everett hunched over his phone, tapping furiously, gym bag forgotten at his side.

“Everything okay?” Theo said, dropping his bag and shedding his jacket. Everett looked up, smiling with genuine warmth. He was handsome, if in a less obvious way than Theo, his even, open features verging on baby-faced despite the deliberately maintained two-day scruff. His dark brown hair was cropped close, and he had the broad, muscled look of a former athlete who made some effort with upkeep.

“Just another junior analyst trying to prove how much overtime they’re working.”

“Are you still good to play?” Theo asked.

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