deep breath and rubs her face, groaning. This event is probably the most important of the tour. Although the party is small, there will be hugely influential journalists and industry people in the room—from the Chronicle, Goodreads, Apple Books, and, of course, Netflix. The Tripps need to be at their very best. So it’s probably good if I’m not distracted by the idea of kissing Carey again anyway.
“Tell me how I can help you today,” I say quietly.
“I think everything should be ready to go.” She opens her notebook. “I have the menu confirmed, seating chart, florist …” Trailing off, she drags a finger down the page. “I don’t even know that I’ll have much to do except make sure things go smoothly.”
“Did you and Melissa talk about last night?”
“Um.” She closes the notebook in her lap. “Briefly, yeah.”
I can tell the abrupt subject change caught her off guard, but I’m invested now in her being more assertive and valued in this job. I don’t want her to sweep this under the rug. “I assume she apologized?”
“That’s a dangerous assumption to make,” she says, laughing a little, “but sort of. She said she was sorry my feelings were hurt, which … isn’t really an apology, but it’s about as good as I’ll get, and things are fine now.”
She keeps her face forward, and I try to read her expression. Is she nervous? Angry? Or is this type of situation—where Melly blows her lid at Carey and everything moves on as usual the next day—totally normal? Unfortunately, I’m guessing it’s the latter. How completely toxic.
For better or for worse, my desire to keep from saying this aloud means I end up addressing the other elephant in the room: “It was fun hanging out in the pool last night.” I falter a little, adding, “Despite the circumstances.”
Carey turns in my direction, and warmth bleeds inside me at the way her eyes light up before her smile appears. “It was. Thanks for getting me out of a bad mood.”
Is that all it was? Gentle sarcasm is my instinct: “It’s my go-to move whenever a female coworker is having a rough day. Get them in the pool for some kissing, I guess?”
To my relief, Carey bursts out laughing. “Well, whatever it was, it worked.” She looks genuinely grateful. “I know it sucks, but I’m so glad you’re here on this crazy trip, Jimbo.”
My grin feels too big for the moment … where I’m pretty sure we’re tacitly agreeing last night was just a way to blow off some steam and nothing more. “I definitely wouldn’t want you to have to do this alone.”
The quiet returns, but my thoughts are rolling at a wild clip. The kiss didn’t feel like it was only about escaping a bad day. But maybe it did to Carey.
We stare out our respective windows, watching the city pass in fits and starts as we wind our way through traffic. There’s a small coffee shop, a little hole-in-the-wall bagel place, a bakery. At every one, I want to turn to Carey and suggest that we have time to grab a bite, go sit somewhere anonymous together and pretend we don’t have a job to do, don’t have to be the young unmarried people propping up one of the country’s most beloved marriages.
But I don’t. By the time we reach the Embarcadero, I’m amazed how gloomy the sky over the water looks; the city wears the foggy haze like a summertime cloak.
Boulevard is a San Francisco institution, and when we step inside, even I admit the style looks familiar. I watch Carey take it in—the rich wood décor, the whimsical vintage European prints, the warm, muted lighting. In Home Sweet Home parlance, the place has “a distinct point of view,” and as I follow Carey around the room, looking at the wine storage, the table settings, the open kitchen, the lamp-shades and art, I know without having to ask that Carey chose this location herself.
“It’s beautiful in here,” I say.
Carey turns to beam at me. “It’s amazing, right? I know minimalism is such a huge thing these days—with midcentury modern, clean lines, simplicity being the trend—but I sometimes wish we could go back to something like this: simple, but ornate.” She points overhead. “The ceiling is brick, but with the lighting, the entire space feels warmer. Cozier. We have a lake cabin we’re renovating in season two, and something like this would be amazing for it.”
I’m supposed to be looking at the