Ryan Porter approaches life like it’s a research project. Raised in an Arctic outpost by scientist parents, he’s a master of systems, spreadsheets, and statistical precision. But human interaction? Still a work in progress. When he lands a job at a bustling New York event-planning firm—where the clients range from funeral directors to reptile breeders, sex-positivists to Jesus freaks, Lincoln impersonators to Jane Austen scholars—he’s plunged into a world of chaotic conventions, dramatic incidents, and one very perceptive coworker: Sofie Chen.
Sofie thrives on intuition, improvisation, and reading people. But Ryan’s oddball earnestness—and his unshakable faith in systems— challenge her assumptions about what it really means to connect. As the two navigate event disasters and a co-worker’s wrongdoing, both have to rethink the way they see the world—and each other.
Perfect Plans is a smart, offbeat rom-com—fun, emotionally grounded, and sharp in all the right ways.
Ryan Porter approaches life like it’s a research project. Raised in an Arctic outpost by scientist parents, he’s a master of systems, spreadsheets, and statistical precision. But human interaction? Still a work in progress. When he lands a job at a bustling New York event-planning firm—where the clients range from funeral directors to reptile breeders, sex-positivists to Jesus freaks, Lincoln impersonators to Jane Austen scholars—he’s plunged into a world of chaotic conventions, dramatic incidents, and one very perceptive coworker: Sofie Chen.
Sofie thrives on intuition, improvisation, and reading people. But Ryan’s oddball earnestness—and his unshakable faith in systems— challenge her assumptions about what it really means to connect. As the two navigate event disasters and a co-worker’s wrongdoing, both have to rethink the way they see the world—and each other.
Perfect Plans is a smart, offbeat rom-com—fun, emotionally grounded, and sharp in all the right ways.
Sofie Chen sensed someone's life was about to change. She just wasn't sure whose—his or hers. But watching this tall, twenty-something stranger in Margo's office meticulously align his chair to some invisible grid, Sofie felt it—a barely perceptible shift in energy, a subtle reordering of molecules, the tiniest redirection of fate.
"This is Ryan Porter," Margo said, gesturing toward the man, who rose with careful precision. "Ryan, meet Sofie Chen, one of our senior coordinators."
On paper, Ryan Porter’s job application was baffling: two applied mathematics degrees from Caltech and what seemed to be a broad base of knowledge—but no hospitality background, no event-planning experience, nothing remotely conventional.
"It's good to meet you," he said, maintaining what seemed like a deliberate distance between them, and extending his hand at precisely forty-five degrees. His handshake felt exact, a careful midpoint between greeting and grip.
"Likewise," Sofie replied, noting his gray eyes evaluating her—not in the usual way men did, with that quick territorial scan, but as if she were a particularly appealing data set.
"Did you know the tint of your blazer was Pantone’s Color of the Year in 2023? Viva Magenta, RBG 18—”
Margo cut in gently. "Ryan, you were about to tell me more about your earlier background, before your university years. You were raised in ... Alaska?"
A flicker of pride—or perhaps, nostalgia—crossed his face. "Yes. My parents run the University of Alaska’s Nordvik Research Station. They study marine mammal migration patterns and pack-ice dynamics." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "I assisted there with data collection and analysis."
"Fascinating," Sofie said, genuinely intrigued. "And now you want to coordinate conventions? That's quite a pivot. Have you ever worked in event planning?"
Ryan’s fingers twitched slightly. “No. But I’ve conducted observational studies of group behavior, spatial negotiation, and crowd dynamics. Conventions seem like a highly concentrated version of those phenomena—high stakes and complex variables.
“Don’t forget the lanyards and coffee breaks," Sofie said, amused with herself.
She glanced again at the intricate convention schedules Ryan had submitted with his application—color-coded matrices, precise metrics, meticulously mapped crowd flows. Overkill, perhaps, but after managing countless events nearly derailed by human unpredictability, Sofie valued exactitude. This guy would bring that. In spades.
Sofie thought about the parade of job candidates she'd helped interview over the years: the overeager kids fresh from event-planning programs, their voices full of nervous energy; the transfers from hotel services and other hospitality sectors; the corporate refugees looking for a more "creative" career; the party planners who thought organizing a sweet sixteen qualified them to manage a convention of two thousand forensic accountants.
She'd never interviewed anyone like Ryan Porter. He was entirely unique.
"What drew you to apply for this particular position?” she asked.
“It aligns with my interests and skill sets,” he replied simply. Then, more quietly, he added, “Also, a therapist suggested I could benefit from a job involving more frequent human interaction."
Sofie couldn't help the smile that broke across her face. There was something so refreshingly raw, honest, and transparent about his response. She felt it again—that crystalline something in the air. A presence representing change. What she saw across the table wasn’t just a brilliant oddball. It was almost a reverse image of herself.
She’d spent years honing an impression of flawless professional control—clipboard in hand, blazer crisply pressed, never missing a cue. But it was always a performance. Always. And it struck her then, as she watched Ryan Porter carefully align his pen and tablet with the edge of the desk, that he wasn’t performing at all. He was just being. In the precise, straightforward way he knew how. There was no polished script, no desperate attempt to fit himself into what he thought they wanted, no claimed passion about organizing conventions. Just the clear-eyed truth and a flicker of vulnerability that made her like him instantly.
She also detected in him a need similar to her own—a need to be perfect. She understood the kind of pressure and stress that entailed. The constant recalibration of self in an effort to avoid failure, the fear that one misstep might unravel everything. And she knew all too well how exhausting all that was—and how it went unnoticed by others, unless they harbored that same need themselves.
Margo raised an eyebrow, silently asking Sofie’s opinion. Sofie nodded toward the hallway.
"Would you excuse us for a moment?" Margo asked Ryan.
In the hall, Sofie lowered her voice. "Margo, what’s the story here? Is he ...?" She made a vague waggling gesture.
"Neurodivergent? On the spectrum? Possibly," Margo said. "I don't know. I didn’t ask. Maybe. Or it could be his isolated upbringing. Maybe a bit of both. Who knows? Does it matter?"
Sofie started pacing. "It might," she said. "A big part of our job is managing emotions. Reading people. He has a mental file of the codes for Pantone colors. I just ..." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don’t want us to set him up to fail. That would be cruel, Margo."
"Yes, but I don't believe he'd fail." Margo smiled warmly. "When was the last time you saw someone approach our job in a completely new way? We've got plenty of people who can handle the emotional side. Ryan could give us a structured way of managing chaos." Margo studied her closely. "Besides, he's exactly what you think we need around here."
Sofie felt suddenly exposed, surprised Margo had sensed her private frustration with their chaotic methods. "How would you know that I—”
Margo smiled. “Oh, please. I’ve often seen you working here late in the evening—at a whiteboard, painstakingly categorizing, mapping, strategizing. I know what that's all about, and I agree with you that we need better systems." She patted Sofie's arm.
Through the glass wall, they saw Ryan waiting, spine perfectly straight, fingertips tapping a precise, metronome-like rhythm on his tablet, as he carefully examined the room's angles, as if trying to calculate how many tenths of a degree off true right the corners might be.
"Margo, forgive me, but I can't stop thinking about this guy in relation to some of our emotional, unpredictable clients. Yesterday, the Quilting society president nearly declared war on the Scrapbooking Guild. She brandished pinking shears because she thought the other group had better lighting! How could this poor guy possibly deal with that?"
Sofie had meant it as a rhetorical question, but Margo calmly replied, "Let's ask him. See what he says."
Back inside, Margo stepped behind her desk. "Ryan, Sofie faced a dispute yesterday at a quilting convention—a conflict between two crafting groups fighting over shared space. How might you handle something like that?"
Ryan’s face lit up. "Oh, interesting! I’ve actually developed a framework for resolving resource-allocation disputes," he said, "based on arctic-fox den-sharing behaviors." His hands moved rapidly, sketching imaginary territory maps in the air. "If you think of each group as a fox skulk seeking optimal territory, and adjust for resource-scarcity variables ..."
Sofie watched Ryan Porter, seeing the gears turn in his mind. He wasn't just analytical; he instinctively sought solutions, mentally sorting variables and thinking of ones that others might've overlooked.
She felt unexpected protectiveness toward this precise, earnest man from Alaska. She sensed the potential their combined strengths offered—her intuitive approach and his systematic analysis, her improvisational ease matched by his careful precision.
Her entire career had been built on making other people look good, anticipating needs, smoothing edges. Always the stage manager, never the star. Always holding chaos at bay with nothing but a clipboard and an unwavering smile, maintaining a flawless performance to mask her internal doubts. What would it be like to work with someone who didn't perform at all? Who simply let himself be, without artifice or pretense?
Margo turned to Sofie, silently asking again. Yes or no?
Sofie took a deep breath, feeling the weight of decision. She nodded. Thumbs up.
Margo smiled and turned back to Ryan. "I’d like to offer you the position. You can start on Monday. Your first assignments will be helping coordinate an accountants’ conference, then the American Meteorological Society convention next month."
Something flickered in Ryan's eyes. “That's optimal," he said. “Weather systems parallel convention crowd-flow patterns mathematically. The models I've developed could significantly improve your spatial strategies at large events."
Sofie exchanged a quick, apprehensive glance with Margo. Hiring this guy would prove to be either a stroke of genius or a colossal mistake.
Margo shook his hand. “You'll be on Sofie's team. She'll also be your point person here at Prestige Events—she'll orient you to our systems, accounts, and clients. And generally get you settled.”
Walking him to the elevator, Sofie asked, "Ready to dive in?”
Ryan tilted his head, as if processing the metaphor. "I'm an excellent diver,” he said, earnest. "Though I generally prefer a more measured entry into new environments." The corners of his mouth twitched up, and Sofie saw it. A wry sense of humor, she thought. She liked him even more.
But as the elevator doors closed, Sofie wondered just how measured Ryan Porter could remain when confronted by the unpredictable realities of convention planning.
The very first sentence was a strong hook, and I couldn’t put the book down from there. The story pulled me in with its compelling plot, sharp dialogue, and a pair of main characters (the two love interests) who feel mismatched and yet absolutely perfect for each other.
Ryan is the human embodiment of a spreadsheet—precise and data-driven. If a computer and Mr. Darcy had a baby who was raised in a remote research station, you’d get Ryan. He’s brilliant, baffling, and charming in his rigidity. He struggles with unexpected change and chaos, but he’s learning to adapt. He’s genuinely adorable to watch. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to be neurodivergent, Ryan is a fantastic lens. He sees the world in patterns, but can’t “turn off” that thinking, which creates tension. He will have to learn to accept the chaos and to find joy in the illogical to grow as a person.
Sofie, although not as different from Ryan, is neurodivergent in a distinctly different way. She’s empathy personified. She feels everything deeply and relies on instinct, nuance, and emotional intelligence. Her world is ruled by relationships and perception. She’s learned the hard way that the most dangerous people at work aren’t the obvious bullies, but the manipulators—the ones who make you feel special until you realize you’re just playing a part in their one-man show.
Then there’s Trevor. The perfect catalyst. The perfect ex. The perfect bit of drama. But he’s not one-note—we get a few chapters from his perspective that add layers and nuance. I loved the depth we get into his backstory, even if it doesn’t excuse his behavior.
I also have to mention the workplace/convention space itself—it practically functions as a third main character. The chaos and hilarity of event planning are part of why I couldn’t stop reading. It’s unpredictable, it’s messy, and it’s revenue-driven chaos at its best. The conventions themselves are often celebrations of people’s niche obsessions, which is just fun to read about.
Every sentence in this book feels deliberate and sharp. The writing distills big truths about human behavior and relationships with clarity and heart. I did a lot of highlighting as I read. It’s the most fun I’ve had reading in a while, and also one of the most insightful portrayals of how two wildly different brains navigate the same chaos. If you're a fan of rom-coms or just love reading about flawed, fascinating humans figuring things out, you’ll enjoy this contemporary novel.