“Not officially.” Etoile was always closed on Mondays. “But I need to check with Gianni on a couple things for this week.” I couldn’t tell her about the proposal—Winnie was horrible at keeping secrets, and Ellie was her best friend. Gianni had made me promise to keep the plan from my sister.
“Like taking some days off to go to New York on a shopping spree with your billionaire boyfriend?”
“It’s not a shopping spree,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We’re just picking up the ring.”
“Where will you stay?” She picked up her coffee cup with her pinky extended. “The Ritz? The Carlyle? The Pierre?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. Then I couldn’t resist adding. “But we’re chartering a private jet to fly there.”
Her jaw dropped. “Stop it! Aren’t you high-falutin’？”
“Listen, Hutton works hard. He’s earned the right to falute a little.”
“I agree one hundred percent, and I look forward to faluting vicariously through you. But hey, if you stay at The Pierre, steal one of the bathroom robes for me. They’re glorious.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “I will not be stealing any bathrobes. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you can still help out in the Etoile booth tomorrow night.”
“Yes. I’ll be there. Six, right?”
“Perfect. The second thing is, I wondered if you might help me sift through some of these messages I’m getting from companies wanting to collaborate with me.” I set my phone on her desk and shrank back, like it was emitting an offensive odor. “My follower count and inbox have gone bananas, I have no idea if any of these people are legit, and it feels kind of icky that all I did was get engaged to Hutton and now I’m insanely popular.”
“I’d be glad to help you.” She sat back in her chair and studied me thoughtfully. “But you don’t have to say yes to any of them if you don’t want to.”
“Half the companies reaching out to me have nothing to do with food. It’s like clothes or cosmetics or hair products. Can you imagine? Me, recommending hair products? I’m even fielding requests regarding my wedding day. Someone wants to send me a case of self-tanner!”
She laughed. “So say no.”
“But is that stupid? What if it helps my business? I won’t get a book deal without a platform.”
“I get that. But ideally, you want to build an audience of people who would be interested in what you do, what you say, and who’d eventually buy your book. Recommending a self-tanner might earn you a little extra cash, but it probably won’t build your audience. A better use of your time would probably be concentrating on putting out more content. And it’s not like you need the extra cash for rent anymore.”
I squirmed in my chair. “Right. I am going to put out more content.”
“Good. So if it doesn’t feel right to say yes to those offers, don’t. But of course I can help you sort through it all.”
“Thanks. I’m going to head over to see Gianni and then I’ll be back.” I left Winnie’s office and headed for Etoile’s kitchen, where I found Gianni going over inventory.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning.” He nodded toward the coffee machine. “Coffee’s hot if you want some.”
“Thanks.” I poured myself a cup. “All set for tomorrow night?”
“I think so.” He grinned devilishly, his eyes lighting up. “She’s going to be so fucking mad at me.”
I laughed. “She’ll still say yes.” Ellie and Gianni had also known each other since childhood, but unlike Hutton and me, they’d been enemies and not friends. Still, they had fantastic chemistry, although it had taken being stranded for two days in a January blizzard at a roadside motel—which had resulted in an unexpected pink plus sign a month later—for them to realize they were good together.
“Just don’t forget the final prop,” he said. “Once she’s wearing the ring, I need to throw a whipped cream pie in her face.”
Shaking my head, I laughed again. “I really cannot wait to see this proposal go down.”
“Speaking of proposals.” He cocked his head. “What’s this I hear about you being secretly engaged? Ellie was losing her mind yesterday.”
“Oh. Yeah.” My cheeks grew hot, and I gave him a weak smile. “Surprise.”
“I can’t believe you never said anything. When’s the wedding?”