Page 121 of I Think They Love You

He makes a note about replying to Auntie Cheryl’s demand to extend the family speeches from five minutes each to fifteen. There’s only so much alcohol the guests can handle. He reviews his to-do list while Eric continues to mutter nonsense under his breath.

T-minus ten days until the party.

Nine days until his dad makes his decision.

It’s only Wednesday and everyone’s on edge. Toy soldiers wound too tightly. No one knows what’ll happen at the start of next month. Who their next boss will be. Is it him or Kami?

Neither?

“We’re sinking and playingMozart,” Eric continues to grumble, “and no one’s throwing us a fucking life jacket as we’re going down.”

“Stop being dramatic, Kate Winslet,” Denz says, smirking.

Eric pauses his pacing, head snapping up. “Wait,” he says, brow furrowed. “When did you become me? When did I become you?”

Denz laughs.

Since being promoted to event manager, Eric’s always been on top of his game. Backup plans for the backup plans. He’s not the kind of person who has meltdowns over people named DJ Allegro bailing for a weekend in the desert.

“I don’t know.” Denz shrugs. “I guess I’m—”

“Content” almost slips out his mouth. It’s not the right word. More like confident. He doesn’t feel like he did two months ago. Like his entire career was hanging by a string of fairy lights from a skyscraper on a windy day.

The buzz about Kami’s event is growing, but the talk around the gala hasn’t died down either. He’s still in this.

“I’m ready,” Denz says.

His phone lights up on the desk. He already knows who the new notification is from:

Formerly Known As Bray.

Fine, the fact that Braylon believes in himmightbe that extra boost he needed.

Denz sucks in his lower lip before a smile can fully form. He refuses to acknowledge the skip of his heart. The way his belly dips and flips.

Their texting is nonstop. FaceTime calls too. Mostly discussions about Skye’s the Limit’s upcoming party. Things like sponsors and donations and Braylon spending way too much time on video apps discovering new dances to impress the teens with.

Every morning, Denz finds himself standing with Kami outside the lobby elevators, yawning into the crook of his elbow, searching for a new reason to message Braylon. He counts down the hours until Braylon’s lunch break. Or when he’ll video-call Denz to ramble while cooking in his kitchen.

But it’s Not. A. Thing.

“You’re…” Eric narrows his eyes. “Ready?”

Denz nods.

Eric watches him a minute longer. “Okay,” he says, smiling just a little. “We’re not gonna drown, boss.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Eric ignores him. “Should we work on the music problem?”

“Now?”

The panic begins to return to the corners of Eric’s eyes.

“Ugh. Fine. I have an idea of who we can contact.” Denzchecks the time on his phone. Notices the unread message from Braylon. He forces the grin from his traitorous mouth. “We’ll talk after lunch.”

Today 11:46A.M.

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