Page 13 of Worth the Wait
“Next week is perfect then.”
“Lianne,” I say as she turns to leave.
She pauses, looking back at me with a carefully neutral expression.
“For what it’s worth, you’ve built something impressive. Luminous Events, your reputation, your relationships in the industry. I... I’m glad you found your place in this world.”
Something flickers in her expression—surprise, maybe confusion—before the professional mask slides back into place.
“Thank you,” she says simply.
She disappears back into the hotel, leaving me alone on the terrace with the uncomfortable realization that seeing Lianne comfortable with another man bothered me far more than it should have.
Three years ago, I wouldn’t have cared who she worked with or what relationships she’d built. Three years ago, Lianne Peralta was a pleasant memory from a strategic decision I’d made about priorities and timing.
But watching her collaborate with Erik, seeing the easy familiarity between them, realizing that she’s built a professional life that doesn’t include me at all—it triggered something I thought I’d buried.
I don’t want to be just another client in her portfolio. I don’t want to be the business arrangement she manages with careful professionalism.
I want to be the man she trusts with her vision, who knows her preferences, who can anticipate her needs.
I want to be the man she chooses to work with, not the one she’s obligated to tolerate.
Because somewhere between the first time I watched as she commanded that boardroom presentation with ease and today’s venue walkthrough, I suddenly want things I have no right to want from Lianne Peralta.
Starting with her.
All of her.
5
One week.
It’s been exactly seven days since the venue walkthrough at Esperanza Resort, and I haven’t heard from Cameron at all. Not once.
And I’m not happy about that.
Sure, it’s exactly what I wanted, right? Professional boundaries. No personal complications. Strictly business. Everything controlled and predictable.
So why do I keep checking my phone like a teenager waiting for her crush to text?
And why am I upset that he hasn’t done the daily check-ins he originally proposed?
“You’re going to pop that balloon if you tie it any tighter,” Maya’s voice cuts through my brooding as I wrestle with a stubborn ribbon.
I look down to find I’ve been strangling a bright-yellow balloon while my mind wandered to places it has no business going. Around us, Highland Community Center’s social hall buzzes with activity as volunteers transform the space for tomorrow night’s Filipino-American Friendship celebration. Paper lanterns in vibrant reds and golds hang from the ceiling, tables draped in traditional textiles wait for centerpieces, and the air smells like the sampaguita flowers we’ve been weaving into garlands all afternoon.
“Sorry,” I mutter, loosening my grip on the poor balloon. “Just focused.”
“Uh-huh.” Maya sets down her own balloon creation—a remarkably accurate parrot that would make any party clown jealous—and gives me the look that’s gotten the truth out of me since we met six years ago. “Focused on what, exactly? Because you’ve been in your own world all week.”
I should have known she’d notice. Maya Navarro doesn’t miss much, especially when it comes to the people she cares about. It’s what made her such a formidable community advocate—the woman who faced down corporate bulldozers to save Highland Community Center—and what makes her impossible to fool when something’s bothering me.
“Just work stuff,” I say, attempting to craft my yellow balloon into something resembling a fish. It looks more like a deformed banana, but at least it’s not threatening to burst anymore.
Maya and I have been friends since college, and I’ve been volunteering at Highland for ten years, handling their events and fundraisers. When her father passed away four years ago, she stepped into his role seamlessly, keeping his vision alive through everything—budget cuts, city politics, even last year’sthreat from developers who thought a community center would look better as luxury condos. They were wrong, obviously, but watching Maya fight for this place only reinforced why I love volunteering here.
“Work stuff that has you checking your phone every five minutes and sighing like you’re in a Harlequin romance novel?”
