Page 10 of I Think They Love You

He can’t tell her. Not yet. Considering his family stopped being Team Bray immediately after Denz recounted their breakup a week before graduation, this is one secret he needs to keep.

“What’s the holdup?” He waves a hand around the room, deflecting.

“Dad’s waiting on a special guest.”

“Me?”

“Keep dreaming,” Kami says flatly. “I don’t know who. He’s been on the phone since I walked in.”

For a Monday meeting, the conference room is surprisingly empty. Even after the holiday. Denz does a quick head count. Out of a staff of thirty, only six seats are taken.

Jordan sits on Kami’s other side, overhead LED lights washing over his warm brown skin as he scrolls through emails. Across from him, a curl of floppy dark hair falls over Eric’s brow. He’s studying contracts on his tablet. If anyone’s capable of challenging Kami for Most Dedicated Employee, it’s Eric Tran. Rounding out the staff are Kim and Connor, two thirtysomething event coordinators passing a sheet of paper back and forth. To anyone else, it might look like they’re plotting the company’s next big celebration, but Denz knows better. It’s plans for their annual cosplay party.

At the head of the room, Kenneth Carter paces, phone to his ear.

“Of course! Your day should be flawless.” He adjusts his designer horn-rimmed glasses. “We’ll fix any detail you’re not in love with.”

Denz smiles. This is his dad at his finest. Armani suit jacket removed. Shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. Monochromatic green tie loosened as he listens closely, occasionally dropping suggestions like it was the client’s idea all along.

The icon Denz has spent decades trying to impress.

Kami elbows him. “Fifty bucks says he convinces them to go with the peonies.”

Denz scoffs. “You make twice as much as me.”

“Fine. Coffee? No, a latte.”

“Deal.”

He hooks their pinkies. Kami’s midnight-blue nail polish matches the backless Valentino number she wore Saturday night. Denz predicts she’ll be on top of all the best-dressed lists for the next month.

“Cuz.” Jordan leans forward. “You sure about that bet?”

“You want in?”

Jordan snorts. He’s a year younger than Denz, but they practically grew up together. “Thing One and Thing Two,” the elders in their family called them. An unbreakable bond of pranks and video games and Monopoly, which is how Denz discovered Jordan’shyper-competitive streak. He hates losing. Any given game night would end in a thrown board or minor bloodshed.

“No, thanks,” Jordan says. “I don’t like those odds.”

Denz turns to Kami. “Dahlias.”

“Dahlias?”she says disappointedly.

“What?” Denz smirks. “They’re versatile. Like me.”

Jordan face-palms. Kami flicks Denz’s forehead just as Kenneth’s hearty laugh echoes in the room. He says, “Now, about that flower arrangement. I think the peonies…”

Denz groans, “How’d you know?”

“The Kenneth Carter playbook never changes.”

It’s a sad truth. Denz adores all the five-star, glamorous parties his dad throws. Nothing but the best. But not much changes from event to event. The personalization their brand once promised has become a paint-by-numbers checklist used to woo clients. He misses the old 24 Carter Gold. The one splashed across magazine covers, raving about their partiesandweddings.

Kenneth ends his call. “Thanks for your patience, everyone.” He eases into his chair. Checks his gold watch. “We’ll start soon.”

Denz follows his dad’s gaze to the two empty chairs between him and Eric. One should be filled by—

“Don’t worry, we’re here!”

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