Chapter 8

 

 

 

Afton

 

 

“Look at you.” Joel runs his hand up and down in the air. “You look like a cute little bug today.”

Shaking my head, I smile. “That’s supposed to mean what?”

“A ladybug.” He nods. “That’s what you look like.”

I glance down at the red short-sleeve sweater I have on. I thought the black polka dot pattern was flattering, and now I’m second-guessing my decision to wear this.

“I think I look like me.”

He taps the tip of my nose with his index finger. “You always look like you. I meant that I didn’t expect to see you so put together today.”

I don’t take that as an insult. That’s not how he intended it.

I spent much of yesterday on a couch in Joel and Nelson’s living room while they worked on refinishing a side table in another room.

I wasn’t dressed to impress. Yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and fuzzy slippers were my chosen attire for hiding out.

Nelson kept our folks at bay. They’ve been reaching out, but I haven’t reached back yet. I plan on doing that tonight.

“I’ll never look as put together as you do.” I point at the light blue button-down shirt he’s wearing. He’s paired it with dark gray pants.

Joel takes being stylish seriously. That comes from being an actor. He once told me that if he looked the part, he’d get the part.

He has.

He landed a few roles on TV shows that shoot in New York City, and he had a brief run in a Broadway musical. He was the lead until the show closed shortly after opening night.

In between auditions, he’s taken on a new role. He works as my assistant.

Joel brushes past me headed toward my kitchen. “You’re lucky I brought coffee. I see you haven’t gotten around to making any yet.”

I fall in step behind him. “I’ve already had two cups today.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he pouts out his bottom lip. “You didn’t invite me to join you.”

Nelson heads to his office on Madison Avenue at the crack of dawn each morning. Typically, that means that Joel and I are left to our own devices when it comes to coffee and breakfast.

I’m responsible for both since I’m the one who spent a year in culinary school.

Today, I paired my coffee with half a bagel I found in my cupboard. I was planning on moving out soon, so there’s very little food in my kitchen. I need to remedy that today.

“I needed time to think.”

Joel’s shoulders tense as he stops to place the tray with two coffees down on the granite countertop. “About Warren?”

It’s the expected assumption. I left the man I was supposed to marry standing at the altar.

I hovered my finger over Warren’s name in the contact list on my phone at least five times since I got up today, but I didn’t have the will to call him. I’m searching for the right words, but maybe they don’t exist.

How do you tell someone who loves you that you don’t feel the same way?

Shrugging, I reach for one of the cups. “I have some things I need to figure out.”

One of those things is why I keep thinking about Luke Jones.

Before Joel showed up at my door, I was on my laptop searching for details about the woman who broke Luke’s heart.

That search came up empty.

“I called Tyler Monroe this morning.” Joel sets himself down on one of the wrought iron stools next to my kitchen island. “I told him we had a change of plans and could start on the project as early as tomorrow.”

I hastily swallow the coffee in my mouth. “Tomorrow?”

He nods. “What was your plan? Sit around here and second guess everything?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly. “We were scheduled to start on Tyler’s cookbook project when I got back from my honeymoon. I need that time to…I’m going to use that time to find myself.”

He reaches toward me to tap his fingertip against my nose. “I found you. Work needs you. I booked us another project.”

“Another one?” I half-laugh. “We have Tyler’s book, the menu and website images for Lise, and a refresh of the marketing materials for Axel. Is that not enough in our pipeline?”

“It’s never enough.” Joel shakes his head. “You, my sweet sis-in-law, happen to be Manhattan’s premier food stylist and food photographer. Own it. Capitalize on it, and let it lead you out of the darkness that is your life right now.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you have an audition today?”

He winks at me. “Tonight. How did you know?”

“That mini-speech you just made about my life was a wee bit over-the-top.”

He darts to his feet. “Over-the-top bad or over-the-top good?”

“Not good.”

Scrunching his nose, he takes a sip of coffee. “I’ll tone it down. I’m trying out for witness number three for an upcoming episode of…”

A knock at my door interrupts Joel mid-sentence.

I reach for his forearm. “Do you think that’s Warren?”

He pats my hand with his. “No.”

“It could be,” I whisper, even though whoever is at the door can’t hear a word we’re saying.

“It’s not,” he says matter-of-factly. “Go answer the door.”

“You answer it.”

“I live upstairs. It’s your door, so you answer it.” He rubs his jaw. “I promise that you’re going to like what’s waiting for you on the other side.”

Wrapping both my arms around his neck, I whisper. “You got me a surprise, didn’t you? Is it something that will take my mind off of everything?”

He pulls back from the embrace. “Go see for yourself.”

I adjust the waistband of my jeans, tug the hem of my sweater into place, and start toward the door. “Whatever it is, I know I’ll like it.”

“Guaranteed,” he calls after me.

Another knock sounds just as I reach the small foyer.

I grab the handle, turn it, and swing open the heavy red wooden door.

I stare at the handsome man standing on my doorstep.

“Afton Neal.” He reaches his hand out to me. “Let me formally introduce myself. I’m Luke Jones, and I’m forever in your debt.”