“I don’t know why the fascination, but they’ve always found a way to put me in their headlines. Don’t worry, it’ll die down soon.”
Henry has dealt with these people for most of his adult life. He’s learned how to handle them. Will I ever become unruffled by this violation of privacy? “Until then?”
“There’s no story here, Abbi. You went to a costume party on Halloween, and that’s it. Everything else? No comment.”
I take a deep breath. “I wish they’d stop calling me your assistant.”
He smirks. “Talk to Zaheera. See if they can put a PR spin on this.”
“I don’t see how she can.” Or why she would want to.
My phone rings and I flinch as Mama’s name appears. “See? She hasn’t dialed my number since the day I told her our wedding would be in Alaska. There’s only one reason for her to break her silence.” She’s as dedicated to online gossip as she is to her church. She’s seen the headline.
“Remember. Just a regular costume party.” Henry kisses my temple first, and then my lips, peeling away as I try to deepen it. “Don’t avoid her. It’ll only make it worse.”
He’s halfway across the kitchen when I answer, my teeth gritted as I brace myself. “Hello, Mama.”
“A sex party, Abigail Mitchell?” she shrieks.
CHAPTER 16
“I don’t remember ‘liaison with jewelers’ being in the job description.”
“And I don’t remember ‘marry the boss’ being in it either,” I say through a mouthful of my sandwich.
“Better you than me,” Miles mutters.
I laugh. “I just need his contact info. I’ll call him myself.” Henry trusted this jeweler with sizing his grandmother’s ring for me and he’s designing my wedding ring, so this man is the right person to craft Henry’s wedding band. “And it’s Wolf gold that they’re using, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay, perfect. Send me the info as soon as we get off the phone, please?” Because otherwise, I’ll have to answer to Jill. She sent me a lengthy wedding to-do checklist last week and a reminder that the wedding is less than six months away. Apparently, I’m already behind.
“Will do. How’s everything going over at Farm Girl Soap?”
“I’m sitting in the closet.”
“That bad?”
I giggle. “No, I’m kidding. Sort of.” I lean back in my office chair and admire the floral wallpaper and freshly painted walls. When we did the commercial site visit and Zaheera suggested converting the tiny storage room into an office for me, I snickered. I mean, I already have this space rented, with an area for making soaps and another for packaging it, and then an office in the back where my new assistant, Annie, is set up. Wasn’t that enough?
But I already appreciate the cozy little space with a door I can lock—especially when Henry is thirty-eight hundred miles away and seven hours ahead, and likes to FaceTime from his hotel room, naked.
Best of all, Zaheera hung a matte Abbi Mitchell, Farm Girl Soap Co. sign on the outside of the door. An office warming gift from Nailed It.
“I’ve been making batches of soap, day in and day out.” We’re limiting it to my most popular scents—lemon, thyme, sage, and lavender—for the first sale, so we have something new to offer for the next round. “How’s Barcelona?”
“The city is great. Henry is … Henry.”
I smile. Belinda once called him a bear when he’s away from me for too long. It shouldn’t make me happy to hear that, but it does. “At least he’s acting more like himself again?”
Miles snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. ’Kay. Gotta go.”
I flip through the wedding invitation samples while I wait for Miles to forward the jeweler’s info. Jill sent me a box to choose from. With Raj’s help, I narrowed it down to four favorites, but no matter how long I stare at them, I can’t seem to choose. I sent pictures of them to Henry, but I already know he won’t be much help.
My phone rings, and I double-blink at Violet’s name on the screen. This is unexpected. “Hello?”
“Uh … Hi, Abbi? I hope you don’t mind me calling …” Her voice trails.
“Of course not. What’s up? Is everything okay?” My mind immediately goes to problems. Is there an issue with the house? Did something happen to Howard or Gayle?