The Invitation by Vi Keeland(11)

“I just got back from watching the sunrise.”

“You know, you can set the background of your laptop to some pretty nice sunrises and sunsets and sleep in.” Fisher popped off the Tupperware lid and forked a full breaded chicken cutlet as if it were a lollipop. He bit off a piece.

“That’s not quite the same, but thanks. Umm…do you want me to heat that up for you? Give you a plate and knife to cut it up? Or better yet, make you some eggs for breakfast?”

“No need.” He shrugged and took another bite. “Why don’t you call him?”

I looked at my best friend blankly. “I can’t call him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he probably changed his mind. Are you forgetting how we met? I’m shocked he even asked for my phone number. I’m thinking he had a temporary lapse in sanity and thought better of it after I left. Besides, I have a date tomorrow, anyway.”

“With who?”

“Ben.”

“The guy you met online? That was a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was supposed to go out with him a few days ago, but I canceled.”

“How come you canceled?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Just had a lot to do.”

Fisher gave me a look. “Nice try. But I ain’t buying it. You were hoping Prince Charming would call and wanted to keep your calendar free.”

“I wasn’t waiting for Hudson to call.”

“Have you checked your phone for missed messages more than once this week?”

“No,” I said—waaay too quickly and sounding completely defensive.

I totally had, a few times a day, actually. But I knew how Fisher operated. He was relentless. It’s what made him such a good lawyer. If he found one little string hanging, he would keep pulling and pulling until the entire sweater unraveled. So I wasn’t about to hand him that thread on a silver platter.

He studied me. “I think you’re full of shit.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You know, you can go out with more than one person at a time…”

Luckily, our conversation was interrupted by my landline ringing, my business phone.

“I wonder who’s calling Signature Scent on a Saturday. I guess it could be a vendor in Singapore. It’s still Friday there, right?”

Fisher chuckled. “Wrong way. It’s Sunday there.”

“Oh.”

I found the phone in the living room, where it sat on top of a box of samples. I cradled the receiver on my shoulder as I picked up the box, too. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Stella Bardot?”

Returning to the kitchen, I opened the box and took out one of the small glass jars packed inside. “It is. Who’s this?”

“My name is Olivia Royce.”

The jar slipped from my hand. It hit the kitchen tile with a loud clank, but luckily, it didn’t break. I fumbled to grab the phone from where it was balanced on my shoulder. “Did you say Olivia Royce?”

“I did. I hope you don’t mind me calling. I couldn’t find a website, but when I Googled the name of your company, this number came up, so I took a chance.”

“Umm… No, not at all. Of course not.”

“I received your note and gift. When I mentioned what you’d sent me to my brother, he told me you were starting a new fragrance company that made custom scents. I would love to order some perfumes for my bridal party, but I couldn’t find you online.”

“Uhh…the website isn’t up yet.”

“Darn. Can I possibly order them directly from you, then?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Eeep! That’s great. I’ve been struggling to figure out what to get each of the girls. I want something personalized and special. This is so perfect. I absolutely love mine, by the way. Thank you for doing that.”

I couldn’t get over this conversation. Olivia was calling me to place an order, not ream me out for crashing her wedding? Was it possible she didn’t realize I was the same person? I didn’t think so, since I’d mailed her gift and an apology note in the same box, and she’d obviously had a conversation with Hudson about me.

“Thank you. I, uh, I can send them some kits and make their orders a priority once they tell me what they like.”

“Oh no. I want it to be a surprise. I know a lot about them—maybe I could just tell you what they normally wear and a little bit about them and you could come up with something?”

I wasn’t sure that would be as effective as the way I normally did it, but there was no way in hell I could say no to her. “Sure, that sounds good.”

“How’s Monday at twelve thirty?”

My forehead wrinkled. “Umm… Twelve thirty is fine.”

“Okay. Would Café Luce on Fifty-Third work? Is that too far for you? Do you live here in the City?”

My eyes bulged. She wanted to meet in person? I’d assumed she meant she was going to pencil me into her calendar for an email or a call.

“Yes, I live in the City. And Café Luce sounds good.”

“Perfect! It’s a date. Thanks, Stella! I can’t wait to meet you.”

Ten seconds later, the line was dead. I stared at my phone. Fisher had been watching the entire conversation play out on my face.