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gallery and slid his hand into his pocket, the picture of casual confidence.
    “Do you have a list of the employees the caterers are sending?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “You should.”
    She supposed that made sense. But frankly, it hadn’t occurred to her. She had been too worried about all the other nine thousand little details that came with planning a party of this size. The security issue seemed like something that, well, the security firm should handle. Her mind just didn’t work in those ways. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how her mind worked. That was half the problem. She had been a flaky kid raised by a flaky mother, and now she was a flaky adult.
    It wasn’t that she meant to be flaky. It’s just that she wasn’t very organized. She liked to think her talents were more in creative ventures and in making people happy. Since she was little, everyone had always commented she made them smile, that she was a ray of sunshine.
    “Okay,” she said when she realized the pause had stretched too long and his relaxed posture had tensed. Sean was smiling at her, but Sean was also smoldering. Whether it was anger or desire, she wasn’t sure, though she couldn’t imagine he was actually still angry with her after all this time. Maybe it was just his efficiency face. She wasn’t as well versed with him as a businessman.
    Whatever he felt, it bubbled under the surface of control he had such mastery of. She had always envied him that, but now she wished if he were frustrated or angry, he would just explode at her, so they could get this awkwardness over between them. On the other hand, maybe it was naive to think there wouldn’t be a significant amount of discomfort, given the huge passage of time.
    Maybe the discomfort was purely on her part. Maybe Sean was just doing his job and was annoyed that she clearly didn’t know how to handle the event security.
    “Congratulations on all your business success,” she told him, sincerely. At random intervals over the years, she had heard from friends, or seen on social media, what he was doing, and she had felt a spark of pride for all his accomplishments. He was a prime example of a man who had started with nothing, and through hard work, now ran a multimillion-dollar corporation. Pride at the man he’d become had been paired with the realization that the demise of their relationship had probably been the best thing for him, as she was monstrously unsuited to be a corporate wife.
    “Thanks,” he said, his expression inscrutable. “So how did you end up an events coordinator? And what brings you back from Sin City?”
    “It’s the only thing I’m qualified to do,” she told him, truthfully. “I can plan a party—that’s about it.”
    “Oh, come on,” he said. “That’s not true.”
    “Hey, I plan a damn good party,” she said, with a smile, even though she knew that wasn’t what he meant. Of course, she wasn’t sure specifically what he meant as her potential talents, come to think of it. She didn’t think it was a sexual innuendo, because honestly, she’d just been enthusiastic in that arena, not skilled or experienced. But at nineteen, she hadn’t been bursting with various practical talents.
    Sean laughed. “Funny. No, I mean I’m sure you could do whatever you set your mind to. That was always your setback—you didn’t believe in yourself enough.”
    It was difficult to explain to Mr. Moneybags that while he was good at virtually every business venture he touched, she had always lacked the focus required to stick with something. But she wasn’t looking for sympathy. It was what it was, and she was trying hard to change, to stick around long enough to make something work.
    And she didn’t need him psychoanalyzing her.
    “I think it’s safe to say I’m not as insecure as I was at nineteen when you knew me, thank God.” She still hated her ass, because it was the consistency of flan, but otherwise she had grown accepting of who she was, as flawed