Page 33 of Double

The tables were covered with glittery, pink tablecloths. Red cutout hearts had been scattered across each table. The backs of the chairs had been tied with gauzy, hot-pink ribbons. Each place had been set with pink and red paper plates, plastic utensils, and plastic cups. It definitely looked festive . . . It just also looked cheap.

“Hey.” She looked me up and down. “Did Lyric put that outfit together for you?”

“She did.” I wasn’t about to lie or feel guilty that Double got Lyric to do something for me that Justus wouldn’t get Lyric to do for her.

“Um. Anyway, the balloons, the balloon pump, and the arch kit are over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room.

I tried not to chuckle at the fact that she obviously put me on the other side of the room, far away from her. I was cool with that; we didn’t need to talk to each other. Double had replaced the earphones I left in Iredia, and I had an audiobook by Soleil Wilson that I was dying to listen to. I wasn’t interested in talking either.

I walked over to the table where the stuff I would need was set out and took out the balloons. Once I had the pump plugged in and the tying tool handy, I was on my way. I had all the balloons blown up and tied off in less than twenty minutes. I was grouping them by size when Compton came over.

“Damn, you did that fast.”

I took out my earphone so I could hear her. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I said, you did that fast.”

“Yeah. I told you, I have a lot of experience with balloon arches.”

“For your event designin’ business back wherever you’re from?” She managed to look simultaneously disgusted and interested.

I nodded. No need for me to expound on it if she wasn’t interested.

“How long was your company in business?”

That reminded me that I needed to figure out a way to check on Faylise. I wasn’t sure whether the business was still going or not. I wasn’t even sure if Faylise was still alive or not. I pushed those thoughts from my mind. “Uh, eight years. My best friend and I started it right after we graduated university.”

“Graduated university? Do you mean graduated from the university?”

I stared at her. “It may be a cultural difference because, where I’m from, we don’t add the prepositional phrase.”

“You don’t add the what? What are you talkin’ about?”

I fought not to sigh. “We don’t say graduated from the. We just say, graduated university, or finished university.”

“That’s weird.”

“Well, there are entire countries that say that same thing. Maybe America’s weird.”

She eyed me meanly, like she wanted to say more, but in the end, she didn’t. “So?” she asked instead. “In your professional opinion, what do you think?” She gestured with her hand around the space.

I was no stranger to diplomacy. I used it all the time on clients when they came in with ideas I knew wouldn’t work. “Festive.” I gave her a sincere grin. Her space looked almost exactly like something Faylise and I would’ve created during our first year on the job. “It’s very literal. It definitely says Valentine’s . . . or in this case, Galentine’s.”

She grinned big and gave a nod. “That’s what I was going for.”

“You nailed it.” I grabbed the arch strip, continuing to work while we talked. Double said he was coming back in an hour, and I knew he wasn’t playing.

She pulled out her phone. “Oh, a delivery is here.” She stood up and left the room.

I kept working. Moments later, she was back, pushing one large box with her foot while carrying another.

“Ooh, these are the gold chafing dishes I saw online. They’re cutesy, and they have a soft-close lid.”

“Fancy.”

She placed the box she was carrying on the one empty table that I presumed would hold the food. “Okay. So I’m just waiting for the cake stand. Got the cake and other sweet treats. Got the DJ. Got the food. We’re not doing flowers.” She pointed at me. “Got the balloon arch. Waiting on the balloon bouquets. Got the photo backdrop. Got the bags for the swag bags. Got the swag. What am I missing?”

“Do you have the photographer?”