Page 12 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
He waves a hand over me, as much as he can in his current position, at least. “I’m serious. You’re just solid angst right now, and you’re never going to find love when you have no space to breathe it in.”
I can’t hold back the single laugh that jumps out of me. “I’m actually okay with that.”
Kale slides forward until he’s flat on the floor, and then he hops up and approaches me with his arms out, like he’s coming in for a hug. I brace myself, but he stops right in front of me, arms still wide. “All wounds heal,” he says with a serious nod.
I don’t know how he knows about my so-called wounds—must be myvibe—but I don’t want to be having this conversation with a guy who eats nothing but pine nuts for breakfast every morning. “Not this one,” I mutter and then slip into the bathroom, hoping he’s gone to bed by the time I get out of the shower.
I pause in front of the mirror, looking at the dark circles under my eyes and the subtle gauntness in my cheeks. Kale is right about one thing. I do feel blocked, like I can barely breathe most of the time. But I also feel empty. The last six months have eaten me alive and left me hollow, and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.
I need Greenwood to work. I need it to save Grant’s company so I can take it over and have purpose again. I need to get my life back.
Chapter Four
Micah
I’m chalking this one upto luck, even though Kinley is calling it fate. I guess the two things are not dissimilar. Even so, when I reach the catering company, I can barely contain my excitement. Lila has never let me come on my own before, and this feels like she’s finally trusting me to handle some of the planning. It might not be an actual promotion, but if Lila is okay with sending me out when the rest of the planning team are busy with a corporate employee appreciation party this week, who am I to question it?
When I get to the caterer’s building, Fischer exits the car right in front of the doors. He beat me here, which isn’t hard to do, but at least I was on time.
He looks down at his watch.
Okay, I wasmostlyon time.
“It’s only five minutes,” I say airily.
“Seven,” he replies gruffly. Someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Hopefully it wasn’t because of my texts.
“It’s five if you round down,” I say with a shrug. “Now, if it had been eight minutes…”
He doesn’t show any hints of cracking a smile.Tough cookie, Fischer Price.
Yeah, I’m not going to be able to take him seriously if I think of his whole name like that. He’s going to have to be just Fischer in my head unless he wants me laughing at him every time I look at him. (He definitely would not want that.)
“How is that calendar app treating you?” I ask, even though he’s starting to fidget as we stand outside instead of going in.
“I haven’t had a chance to look at it.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. He isn’t wearing a suit coat today, but he’s still in well-fitting slacks and a tie. I like the forest green shirt he chose today. It’s a good color on him, though I imagine he’ll look good in anything with his dark coloring. His eyes are so black and his hair such a dark brown that he could choose basically any bold color and look good. I like to wear blues and greens. Very cool colors, though I spice things up every now and then with something bright and fun.
He clears his throat.
I grin. “Well, if you had looked at it, you would have seen that Debbie moved back our meeting by ten minutes. So, technically, I’m on time.”
His lips twitch, and he glances down at his shoes for a second before he looks back up at me. “Okay,” he says. I was hoping for a “touché” or something kind of flirty like I read in my book last night—an adorable enemies-to-lovers rom com with a fake relationship—but I guess Fischer isn’t the banter type. I should have guessed as much after my interactions with him yesterday, but what can I say? I’m a sucker for good banter.
Fischer glances at his watch again, which probably means our ten minutes are up. “Shall we?” he says, gesturing toward the door.
I sigh. “One of these days I’m going to get you to smile, Fischer.”
I might be imagining it, but as he holds the door open for me, I’m pretty sure the corner of his mouth creeps upward as I pass. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that,” he mutters.
Oh, he has no idea what’s coming.
Debbie is waiting in the front lobby, and she greets me with a hug that lifts me off my feet. She’s built like an MMA fighter but cooks like Julia Child, and it took me a year to convince Lila to consider her a favorite. All that effort was worth it, though, and we’ve had nothing but rave reviews about the food at our events since switching to Debbie.
“I’m so glad you were free,” I tell her, and I really mean that. I don’t know if I could trust anyone else with an event this important to me.
She scoffs. “For you? Always. I’ll just have my sous chef handle the wedding we have that day. Though, I was surprised by the ideas Lila sent over. It’s not her usual style, but I think we can make it work.” Her eyes flick over to Fischer. “Who’s your friend?”
I glance behind me and choke back a laugh because he’s still standing by the door like he’s ready to run. “Debbie, this is Fischer.” I can’t bring myself to say his full name out loud. “He works with the client. Fischer, I hope you came hungry.”
