The Romeo Effect

by Monroe, Lila

  Before I can respond, she notices April. “Sorry, I’m Charlene—Charlie—one of Seth’s old clients. One of his very satisfied clients,” she says, wiggling her fingers in front of April.

  “Congratulations,” April laughs, thankfully not taking the “very satisfied” part wrong.

  “Thank you! I mean, I’m so excited but . . .” She sighs, the excitement quickly draining out of her. “We were supposed to have this little engagement party get-together tonight but now my mother-in-law-to-be has turned full on momzilla and is inviting a million people. We were hosting it at our favorite dive bar—you know, just casual? But that’s not going to cut it now, and I don’t know what to . . .” She pauses for a much-needed breath. “. . . do. I mean, seriously, I don’t want to embarrass myself before I even get down the aisle with her son. Everything rides on this, and now what am I supposed to do?”

  I share a smile with April. Charlie was always kind of high-maintenance as a client, and clearly, it hasn’t changed now that her meet-cute led to true love.

  But April brightens. “Seth can help,” she says.

  Cue the record-scratching noise. Because: What?

  Charlene looks from April to me, her eyes bright with hope. “You can?”

  “Sure, he can,” April assures her, before I can object. “He’s the best planner there is! I mean, he got you the fiancé, didn’t he?”

  “He did!” Charlie claps her hands.

  “Leave everything to him,” April says, her winning smile aimed at Charlie. “He’ll text you with the details. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  “You are literally the best! Money is no object! Just do what you have to do. Thank you so much!” She gives me another hug and heads to meet her friends in the back.

  “Umm, do you want to tell me what that was about?” I ask, dragging April outside.

  “What do you mean? I just landed you a job!” April beams. “That’s a good thing. You heard her: money’s no object.”

  “But I’m not a party planner!” I protest.

  She laughs. “Sure, you are. If you can orchestrate a dude saving a woman from certain death on the streets of New York, you can put together a party in . . .” She looks down at her watch, cringes, looks back up at me. “Ten or so hours.”

  “Oh sure,” I say, sarcastic. “I’ve definitely got this.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” she says, upbeat. “I’m serious. If you set Charlie up with her fiancé, you know everything about both of them. I’ve seen how you work, remember? You must have files on them. What they like, their turn-ons, and obviously, how they met. You collected all this info, so now you can use it to plan their perfect engagement party.”

  April looks at me, and then her smile fades. “Or not. Shit, I thought I was helping—”

  “No, you are,” I tell her, realizing she’s right. There’s nobody better equipped to put together a personal, meaningful celebration for Charlie and Matt. There’s still one problem though—a really big problem. “But April,” I say. “It’s tonight.”

  “I have total faith in you, Seth,” she says, sincere. “Plus, I happen to know the city’s best florist is available for this evening and is great at last-minute stuff. She’s really creative and can work magic. Especially since . . .” She does air quotes. “ . . . ‘Money’s no object.’ ”

  I laugh, but then her phone rings. She winces. “Remy. I better get to the shop. But let me know when you decide on a floral theme for tonight.”

  “I need a theme?”

  “You know what I mean. Colors, types.” April kisses me goodbye. “Good luck!”

  I head home and pull up my files, strangely excited to pull all this together. Charlie is a dentist and Matt is a buyer for Macy’s, but neither of those things lend themselves to a fun themed party. Then I remember I set them up at a baseball game—they’re both huge Yankees fans. Obviously, it’s not baseball season, but I can do a themed party. But where? I call around and am told—very rudely, in some cases—that no one can pull off a catered event for over a hundred people with only a few hours’ notice. I’m not surprised, but someone has to be able to handle it and want the business.

  I’m running out of time. Desperate, I call April.

  “How’s it going?” she answers, chipper.

  “Awful,” I bite out. “I’ve decided to make it Yankees-themed because they’re both huge fans and I hooked them up at a game, but I can’t find a venue. Any chance you have a line on one that’s available for tonight? You know,” I laugh, slightly hysterical. “Since this is all your doing?”

  “As a matter of fact . . . I just might,” she says. “I’ll call you back.”

  True to her word, less than five minutes later, my phone rings.

  “Please have good news, April.”

  “As it turns out,” she says, smug, “I do. How do you feel about the bar at the Griffin Hotel?”

  It takes a minute for this to sink in. “The exclusive and super-high-end Griffin hotel in Soho? Not, like, some bedbug-riddled dump of a motel with the same name?”

  “The first one.” She laughs. “Remember Dylan? Whose house we were at for his and Poppy’s housewarming? It’s his hotel. Like, he owns it.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Right? It pays to have a girlfriend to call in favors.” She pauses, and I can almost hear her cringe through the phone. “I mean . . .”

  “You’re right,” I say when she falters after the girlfriend comment.

  “OK, cool,” she says, a little breathless.

  We should probably have this conversation, but now is not the time. While the venue’s handled, I have a million other things to take care of.

  “Seriously, though,” I say. “I don’t know how to thank you, April.”

  “Oh, you’ll think of something,” she drawls. I know what she means, and so does my body—we’re both looking forward to paying that debt.

  I get off the phone and text Charlie the time and venue details. She’s thrilled and sends me a bunch of emojis back—some that I’m guessing she doesn’t know the meanings of because she just propositioned me for a very fruit-and-vegetable-filled night. I laugh and put the phone down, because there’s still a lot to do.

  But I’m starting to think April was right: I’ve got this. And it might actually be fun.

  By the time I head over to the Griffin to set up for the party, I’m pretty much run ragged.

  Did I ever look down my nose at party planners before? I take it all back. Those people are superheroes. Between food and music and a million tiny décor details, my head is spinning. And here I was thinking my meet-cutes took planning. This is practically a military campaign.

  I’m still not one hundred percent sure this will all fall into place, but so far, so good. And the weirdest part? I feel great, energized. Not from the whole last-minute thing, which was hairy as fuck, but using my organizational skills to bring it all together. I even did some fresh research and found Charlie and Matt’s registry. It helped me figure out their wedding colors, which I then sent to April so she could coordinate the decorations. So yeah, I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself.

  And when I’m done setting up, I’m feeling even better. Because holy shit, the place is perfect. The streamers, the flower centerpieces, the vintage Yankees jerseys hung around the bar . . .

  April appears, toting some massive floral arrangements. “This looks amazing! I love the hot dog and popcorn vendor, by the way. Nice touch.” She points her thumb over her shoulder. “He’s setting up in the back.”

  I grin. “That’s what happens when you have only a few hours and a ton of mouths to feed—street food is perfect. And . . .” I lean close. “I know how much you love hot dogs.”

  Her face lights up. “I do. I do love hot dogs.”

  I look around at the bar, figuring out the rest of the layout. “I still need to set up the screen and projector. I grabbed a bunch of photos off their Facebook pages and made a slideshow set to their
favorite music.”

  Luckily, April’s friends show up—ready to pitch in. “What can we do?” Poppy asks, looking around.

  I hand her a list. “Can you make sure the bartender gets this list of themed drinks?”

  “On it,” she says, taking the list.

  “And can you set up the PowerPoint?” I ask, handing my laptop to Natalie.

  “Sure can.”

  “I’ll get the screen and projector,” Dylan says.

  “Thank you so much for this,” I tell them all, grateful.

  Dylan grins. “My pleasure, man. Anyway, we’re happy for the booking. Not much going on here tonight. Hopefully it leads to more events.”

  “With slightly more warning,” I say, rueful over the rush. But with their help, I pull everything together in time, and when Charlie and Matt arrive, they’re blown away.

  “Welcome.” I hand them their official Yankees caps that have been embroidered Bride and Groom.

  Charlie squeals in delight as they put them on. “Seth! This is incredible. Seth is an amazing event planner,” she explains to Matt.

  “Is that how you guys met?” he asks, looking interested.

  Charlie blushes. “Umm, yes! Anyway, let’s go check out the bar.” She yanks him away before he can ask exactly what event I planned for her.

  They can’t stop gushing about how amazing everything is, even though we literally only had a few hours to pull it all together. I feel proud and am loving the praise.

  When the guests start arriving, I fade into the background. I take a spot in a booth near the hot dog guy, watching Charlie and Matt celebrate with their friends and family.

  “So,” April says as she slides into the booth beside me, a hot dog in her hand. “How does it feel, using your powers for good? And not even having to hide it?”

  “I have to admit,” I say, “it feels pretty damn good. Almost as good as that hot dog smells.”

  She holds it up and I take a bite.

  “I told you,” she says, “your skills are definitely transferable. You’d make a great event planner. You’re most of the way there already. You just need to add more of the right people to your Rolodex.”

  “You being one of them?” I tease.

  “Obviously,” she says. “And Dylan. Plus, Natalie’s PR skills, Poppy’s collection of happy couples . . .”

  I lean over to press my lips to hers. “Thank you for making this happen. And for your faith that I could pull it off.”

  “Thank you for getting the hot dog guy here,” she says. I’m pretty sure she’s only half-joking.

  “Seth?”

  We both turn our heads. My heart drops when I see who it is.

  Oh, shit.

  “Hey, Nico,” I say, trying to figure out what he’s doing here—Charlie was my client. By the look on his face I can tell he saw me and April kissing. And he knows exactly who she is. “I’ll be right back,” I say to her before I slide out of the booth.

  I pull Nico toward the back of the bar near the bathrooms where it’s quiet. “I didn’t think you knew Charlie,” I say.

  “I don’t,” he says. “Matt’s my cousin. But more importantly, what are you doing kissing a client?”

  “She’s not a client. She was a target.” A technicality.

  “The one that you failed to hook up with the client. That’s convenient.” Nico folds his arms, challenging me.

  “Come on,” I argue. “April turning down James had nothing to do with me—I had to convince her to even go out with him that one time. Nothing happened between us until after it was clear she wasn’t interested.”

  Nico sighs, looking unconvinced. “I’m just saying Winston’s not going to like this.”

  I wince. “Winston doesn’t need to know.” It’s killing me to keep secrets from him, but it’s not like I stole April away. She makes her own decisions. “I’ll tell him sometime soon, OK? Just let me do it in my own time.”

  He stares at me. Sighs. “Fine. Mostly because I don’t want to cause a shitstorm. But you’d better tell him. You’re already on his shit list. If he finds out about this before you tell him? It won’t be pretty.”

  “I know,” I agree. “I’ll deal with it. But for now, please just keep it to yourself.”

  Nico nods and heads back to the party, but I have a bad feeling in my stomach now—and not just because I’ve eaten my body weight in popcorn.

  Things seemed simple when it was just April and me, hanging out. But now that our friends are getting involved . . . Our families . . .

  It’s serious.

  But if Winston finds out, I’m going to be in serious trouble.

  19

  April

  Even though I’m swept up in feels and great sex with Seth, I haven’t taken my eyes off the prize, aka the Bridal List.

  “Perfect,” I declare, putting the finishing touches on another gorgeous, dramatic bouquet. Purple calla lilies, dramatic irises, and a pop of orchids make this one a showstopper. “What do you think?” I ask, turning it to face Remy.

  He makes a face.

  “What?” I demand. “You don’t like it?”

  “I love it, that’s the problem,” he replies. “It’s way too spectacular—and pricey—to be given for free to sit in a coffee shop, being ignored by unappreciative coffee fiends.”

  “But that’s all part of Seth’s big plan,” I remind him. “We only need one member of the Brides staff to notice it, and voila! Bloom will be sitting pretty on the list.”

  “And I’ll get my raise?” he asks, batting his (admittedly thick and gorgeous) eyelashes.

  I laugh. “And you’ll get your raise.”

  “In that case, I’m in.” He hoists the display and checks the delivery address. “I can run this over, it’s right by my gym.”

  “You work out?” I blink, surprised.

  “No, I watch TV while stumbling around on the treadmill for an hour.” He yawns. “I’ll take it later.”

  “You can go now,” I say. “Take your break, too. I’ll watch the shop.”

  “No, I need to stay,” Remy says cryptically. He checks the time, like he’s waiting for something, and when the door jangles and Seth walks in, I begin to get a clue as to what—or rather, who—he was expecting.

  “Hey,” I greet Seth, surprised. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”

  “I thought I’d try to convince your boss to give you the day off.” He grins.

  I love the idea of playing hooky with him, but I have a business to run. “My boss would never let me,” I say with a mock pout. “She would say we’re too busy.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I already made arrangements.” Seth waves a hello to Remy.

  Still, I’m torn. “I shouldn’t . . . I have work to do.”

  “Work like placing the order for the Bryce wedding?” Remy asks. “Done it. And before you ask about scheduling the deliveries for the Musitano funeral, I did that too.”

  I pause, looking back and forth between them. “Did you plan this?”

  Seth grins. “Maybe?” But his face says: Definitely.

  And then, before I can change my mind, Remy shoves my jacket and bag at me, and Seth pulls me out the door. I’m being kidnapped—not that I’m complaining.

  “So, where to?” I ask, once we’re outside and I’m bundled up against the cold. “I’m presuming you have a plan.”

  He grins. “I do. But it’s a surprise. Trust me?”

  I slide him a sideways grin. “Not at all.”

  “Good,” he says, mischievous. “Come on.”

  He leads me to the subway, where we get on a train uptown. Way uptown. Luckily, Seth produces a thermos of hot chocolate and two mugs.

  “You even brought marshmallows!” I exclaim, delighted.

  He smirks. “Of course, I did. We’re not animals.”

  I laugh. “Well, sometimes we feel like we’re bunnies,” I tell him with a wink.

  Incredibly horny bunnies.

  “Hey,” h
e protests, mock-indignant. “I’m no fluffy bunny rabbit. I’m badass and manly.”

  “Oh, right,” I agree, smirking. “Like a . . . hmm . . . manly . . . guinea pig?”

  “That’s it!” He grabs me and pulls me into him even as I shriek that I’m going to spill the hot chocolate.

  We laugh and laugh all the way to the Bronx, which Seth says is our stop. I follow him off the train, intrigued. I have no idea where we’re going, but the journey is fun as hell, and I can’t think of who I’d rather be with, so I’m game for whatever.

  A few blocks later, we arrive at the New York Botanical Gardens.

  I gasp and turn to Seth. “Seriously?” I ask. He could not have picked a better place to bring me.

  Seth grins. “I thought you might like it here.”

  “Umm, yes! To a dorky plant nerd, this is pretty much heaven.”

  We head inside. The garden is open year-round and has winter stuff going on, but screw that. If I’m here, I’m going inside the warm arboretum, away from the cold and snow. Plus: flowers, flowers, and more flowers!

  Seth and I make our way toward the big domed conservatory building. Once inside, a big sign announces the annual orchid show is on. Be still my florist’s heart. I stop and turn toward him. “Do you want to see me truly geeking out? Get ready.”

  He laughs and reaches for my hand. “I’m ready, April. Today’s all about you.”

  “Why?” I ask. “I mean, not that I’m not loving it, but I can’t think what I did to deserve all this.”

  “Of course you do,” Seth replies. “And anyway, I wanted to thank you for all your help with Charlie’s party.”

  I beam. “I was happy to help. But you should take the credit, the flowers were nothing. I mean, don’t tell Charlie that because I’m charging her a lot more than nothing, but . . .”

  He laughs. “Hopefully, you’ll get some new business from the event. Charlie couldn’t stop posting photos of everything.”

  “Let’s hope she decides to book me for the wedding!”