“Ten years ago,” I said.
We were in our late twenties now and far from the giddy teenagers we had once been.
“That doesn’t count.”
“I might object that it counts, but let’s say, for the moment, I agree with you. You still asked me if I was going to meet that guy again. There’re traces of our past, our familiarity with each other, in everything you say to me.”
“Let’s call it the concern of one childhood friend for another,” he said, stretching his long legs in front of him. “A concern that is nipped in the bud since we both recognize the value of our working relationship now.”
I hesitated. I couldn’t ignore the thought in my mind that said,What a pity.
“So, none of that will affect my job in any way?”
He nodded. “I won’t say a word to anyone about our past.”
“You mean that we dated?”
He nodded. “That we had a brief relationship many years ago.”
It hadn’t been a brief relationship, but this wasn’t the time to argue over that. Not when the power balance rested in his favor.
I turned to go.
“Oh, before I forget, our café serves gnocchi, Ms. Hale,” Desmond said in a low voice, his eyes playful. “You’ll like it here.”
I looked away, my neck feeling warm. “It’s only temporary, Mr. McKinley. Before you know it, I’ll be back at my restaurant.”
The last thing I saw as I walked out of the meeting room was Desmond standing with his hand casually in the pocket of his pants, but he turned to look at me over his shoulder just before the door fell shut.
7
AVA
The day passed after the disastrous meeting with Desmond.
When I got home later that evening, feet sore and with a hunger I couldn’t understand, I saw to my relief that the power was back on. Mrs. Wilson had managed to keep her curling-iron disasters away for the moment, and I waved to her as I walked past her open window. She paused her television show to call out a greeting before I walked up to my apartment. Her delicious shrimp gumbo was waiting for me in my mini fridge, and I pulled it out and heated it while I checked my email on my phone.
I saw an email from my therapist, reminding me that it had been five months since I’d seen her. The feeling of guilt took over for a minute. My therapist, a woman Gabriela had suggested I work with, always insisted on asking me a lot of questions about Mom and her health. I didn’t talk about Mom anymore. I didn’t want to think about her. I hit Delete on that email and felt temporarily better, just as I got a phone call.
I abandoned my dinner when I saw that it was a four-person video call. In a minute, Freya, Lily, and Gabriela were talking over each other, asking me for more details about my relationship with Desmond in high school.
Freya sighed and looked smitten when I explained that Desmond and I had met at prom when we both reached for the last glass of punch at the same time. Lily softened and smiled when I said that Desmond, after handing that glass over to me and seeing how I downed it in a second, had gotten the caterer to make a second and third glass just for me until my thirst was quenched. Gabriela said nothing, but her lips had a smile every time I mentioned Desmond’s name.
“And now, I hate you all for making me relive those memories,” I said, finishing my story. “Let’s talk about something else, please. Tell me about your new jobs.”
For the most part, everyone was reasonably happy with their new jobs even if it meant we wouldn’t be working together for some time.
“Though I hear you have the fanciest workplace of all, Ava,” Freya said as she chewed on a protein bar. “Gabi told me that the lobby of Luxe Hotels has marble flooring!”
I nodded. I did have a really fancy workplace even if it was only temporary.
“Do you think Desmond will put in marble flooring in our restaurant?” Lily asked.
“More importantly,” Freya interjected, “what are you going to do when you see Desmond at work every day, Ava?”
On the phone, I could see Gabriela’s expression change.
Gabriela shot the screen a frown, which I presumed was aimed at Freya. “Ava is a professional. She can work just fine with Desmond around.”
