Page 27 of Forget Me

“No, stay,” Natalie said. “Pull up a chair. And a plate. You can’t just drop off food and go. Spend a few minutes with us. Right, Mimi?”

“Um, sure.” I was seventy-one percent certain this would end in disaster, but I wasn’t enough of a monster to eat the food he’d brought and send him away with none.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and when I didn’t object, he made himself a plate of food and sat in the chair to my left.

I stared down at my plate. It looked absolutely gorgeous, a pair of empanadas at six o’clock, rice and beans at ten and two. A cup of green salsa nestled in the center.

“O.M.G. This is delicious.” Natalie took another bite and rolled her eyes. “Who made this, and do they cater large events?”

Mateo chuckled. “Tres Hermanas in the Tenderloin. And, yes, they cater. My tía said they do weddings at her church all the time. She knows the owners.”

“We need to get them. Don’t you think so, Mimi?” Natalie said.

“But—but—we already selected a caterer.” She and I had stuffed ourselves in back-to-back appointments over the weekend, and she’d even haggled the expensive one down to fit into our budget. “I cut a check for the deposit.”

Larissa said, “I haven’t given it to them yet.”

“You haven’t?” I asked. “I gave you the check on Monday.”

She fluttered a hand like a five-figure check didn’t mean anything. “I think we should talk to these people. Latin American food will be unique and a more memorable experience. We can plan the decorations around it. I’m thinking paper flowers, piñatas, maracas…”

“Or—”

Mateo’s voice from my other side startled me, and I knocked over my water bottle. Fortunately, I righted it before it spilled more than a few drops on my copy of the budget. Which was now out of date. I blotted it with my napkin.

“You could decorate with orchids. Or, if those are too expensive, carnations and roses in bright colors. That will give it a fresh, tropical feel without being too over-the top.”

I sucked in a breath. “We’ve already budgeted for the decorations and flowers, too.”

Larissa waved off my protest. “We can figure it out with the decorator. Right, Natalie?”

“No problem. Gina’s reacted to enough whims of my mother’s that she can roll with this.” She turned back to me. “I’m sure we can fit it into the same budget. It won’t be too much extra work for you, I promise.”

“I need people who are creative and flexible,” Larissa said, her voice stinging. “I think Mateo might be better suited to the gala committee than you are, Miriam.”

“Wait,” he said. “I’m not trying to take over anything.”

My stomach contracted. The situation was all too familiar. A man sweeping in and taking a job I’d worked hard to earn. Maybe Mateo hadn’t meant to do it, but here we were. Again. I stared down at my plate. The food had tasted wonderful at first, but now bitterness filled my mouth.

I pushed my plate away. “I didn’t mean—I’ll handle it.” Renegotiating the contracts and updating the budget would take time I hadn’t planned for, but with Larissa’s approval hanging by a thread, I’d work twenty-four-seven if I had to.

Slowly, as Larissa and Natalie cleaned their plates, the three of them undid the planning we’d done over the past week and the budget I’d painstakingly put together.

The absolute last straw was when Mateo said, “I know a fantastic bachata band. A guy I work with, Carlo, plays trumpet with them in his spare time.”

“We definitely paid the deposit on the jazz band,” I said.

“We can get out of it,” Larissa said. “Losing the deposit would be worth it to create an authentic experience.”

“But that’s five hundred dollars the kids won’t get.”

“Miriam.” Larissa gave me a flat look. “It’s a tiny fraction of the overall gala budget. I’m always telling you that you need to look at the big picture. That’s what I need in an assistant director.”

I cringed. Crap, it wasn’t Mateo who’d sunk me. I’d done it myself.

“Attention to detail is important,” Mateo said. “I’m sure you need that, also.”

I whipped my head around to look at him, and the broad smile he’d been flashing at Larissa faltered.

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