It Was Never Just One Night

Serena’s POV “I want the scarlet macaw perched near the entrance, between the floral arch and the dessert table, so guests are wowed immediately when they walk in. And the sloth, I'm thinking maybe it should come with a portable perch? Something guests can walk up to and pose for pictures with." I kept my pen moving across the notepad. Six years of this. Client meetings in my Hayes Valley office, with its white walls and the dragon tree I water every Tuesday. I’ve handled corporate launches, charity galas, and three back-to-back weddings in one October… So, I knew how to maintain a poker face when a client’s demand got a little wild. "Live animals at a baby shower?" I said deadpan. "Live, yes. I read that Penelope Cruz had something similar at a private event in Marbella." The woman across the desk, Cecile Hargrove, pressed both palms flat on the table like she was closing a business deal. She wore a cream silk blouse and a diamond pendant that hung low on her collarbone. "I want my guests walking into something they've never seen before. I want them to feel like they stepped into a different world." I nodded once and scribbled: scarlet macaw. sloth. portable perch ?? I circled the two question marks. "Mrs. Hargrove, I want to give you that experience." I set my pen down and clasped my hands over the notepad. "And I also want to make sure we give your guests, and your baby, a safe one. Live exotic animals require special permits in the city, and a lot of those species have noise sensitivities. A roomful of excited people, champagne flutes, and a DJ is not an easy environment for a macaw." Cecile opened her mouth. I kept going before she could get a word in. "What I can do is this… I hire a professional animal handler who works with trained, socialized birds. We do a brief, curated appearance at the beginning of the event, thirty minutes, controlled, and beautiful for photos. After that, the animals go back to their handlers. Your guests get the moment. Nobody's nerves get rattled, including the bird." I paused and offered a warm smile. Cecile sat back and tilted her head, the way people do when they want to seem like they're deciding something they've already decided. "And the sloth?" "The sloth stays," I picked up my pen again. "We’ll display the portable perch near the welcome table. Same handler, same thirty-minute window. I've worked with a woman in Marin who does exactly this. She's done events for two tech CEOs and a former mayor." "See, this is why I hired you," Cecile smiled, slow and satisfied. I smiled back. And forty minutes later, I walked her to the elevator, confirmed the deposit timeline, and waited until the doors closed before I let my shoulders drop an inch. Back inside, I gathered my notes and sat for a moment at my desk. The afternoon light came through the west-facing window in a wide, pale stripe across the floor. My laptop was open to a vendor spreadsheet, inbox showed eleven unread emails, and phone had two text messages I hadn't opened yet. I opened neither. I pulled up a new document instead and typed Hargrove Baby Shower at the top, then stopped. The cursor blinked at me. “This can wait," I muttered to myself as I closed the laptop. I had a celebratory dinner to get to. A few minutes later, my Uber moved through the 6 p.m. traffic on Market Street in fits and starts. I sat in the backseat with my bag in my lap and my eyes on the window. Allie had sent four texts in the last hour. The last one was a photo of her left hand, fingers spread wide, catching the light. The ring was beautiful. A huge solitaire diamond nestled on a simple gold band. I had sent back three heart emojis and meant all of them. I was happy for her. I was. But right next to that happiness, I also felt the pain of hollowness in my life. I had taken the hurt and pressed it beneath everything I did, my schedule, clients, and the half-marathon I'd trained for last spring. I did not talk about it. Not to new people or even my best friend, Allie. I had made myself a promise that I would not be stupid again. That I would not hand myself over to someone, and the next time I felt something for a man, I would take that feeling and walk away before it could take root. It’s been nine months since I tried to pick myself back up. My phone lit up in my hand. Allie: I’m seated already. Table's in the back, by the bar. Hurry up, I'm dying to tell you EVERYTHING. Five champagne glasses and smiley face emojis. I tilted my head to the side and smiled weakly at her text. Allie is in celebratory mode, and now isn’t the time to drown myself in how shitty my life feels under the surface. The car stopped in front of the cocktail lounge on Valencia… I stepped out into the cool evening air, shrugged out of my blazer, draped it across my arm, and looked up at the warm gold light spilling through the front windows. I could see the Friday evening crowd inside. The kind that has nowhere else to be and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I stood on the sidewalk for what felt like three minutes. Eating dinner with Allie was the easy part. I knew that. What I was bracing myself for was the other thing. Sitting across from someone whose life was filling up in the most wonderful way and not flinching. I had to be fully present and not spiral into thinking about how my life is the complete opposite. I took a step forward and walked through the dark timber door as the host offered to take my blazer with a smile. The warmth and noise of the cocktail lounge folded around me as the door swung shut at my back. I scanned the space once, the way I always did. Allie was already at the corner table by the bar, facing the entrance, hand raised the second she spotted me. She was glowing in the way people glow when something good has just happened and the world hasn't caught up yet. I raised my hand back with a lopsided grin. “You can do this," I said to myself as I took a deep breath, the kind that fills all the way to the bottom, and started across the room toward her.