“Hahahaha. Your faces when I asked Paul out. That was better than the film!” She grinned and hopped out of the car.
Paul drove me back to my apartment and then sat for a moment in the car without getting out, looking down at his hands. I was trying to give him time to speak before I let my fear shut things down. Saying ‘yes and’ to life, right? I hadn’t entirely expected to see him again after last night, and here he was.
“Can I take you out,” he finally said, “on a proper date? This week sometime? Dinner, maybe?” My heart flooded with a dangerous level of joy, and I pushed it down like it was a stranger’s dog. Down. No. Sit.
“I’d like that.”
He met my eyes, his brown eyes open and serious. “Wednesday? Before we have our improv practice on Thursday?”
“Wednesday works.”
“And can I give you a kiss goodnight?”
“As long as you’re taking it slow. We’re supposed to be taking it slow.”
“Oh, I’ll take it slow.” He grinned wolfishly.
We kissed again, for a long time. A seduction kiss. Then he pulled away and shook his head slowly. “I really want to come upstairs.”
“You could. Just for a coffee.”
He breathed out a little laugh. “It wouldn’t be just a coffee.”
We sat for a long minute in total silence. His phone rang, and he glanced at it and groaned.
“Trish?” I asked.
“My mother again. It’s like she can sense when I’m happy and activates her missile targeting system.”
“You’re happy?”
He nodded, without smiling, just gazing at me. “You should go inside. We’ll do a proper date night.”
“Okay. Goodnight.” I got out of the car, my knees a bit unsteady, and went inside, thinking that he didn’t kiss me like he was still in love with his ex-wife. Hope rose in my chest, carrying me up the stairs like an escaped balloon, bouncing me into my kitchen, staying with me even as I lay in bed.
The next day,my boss Kedar sent me a meeting request first thing in the morning. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and threw on one of my more professional sweaters, pushing the demolished remains of a cranberry muffin and my ‘Tits and Boobies’ mug safely out of view.
I could tell something was wrong as soon as I saw his face. He was usually a go-getter, cheerful, a bit of a corporate hustler but basically a nice guy. This time he looked grim.
“Hey, rock star,” he said softly.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Pledgemont Funds might be changing its work-from-home policy.” I stared at him. I could tell that it hurt him to say it, and I realized in a rush how much I liked Kedar. Sure, he might use annoying corporate speak about whether a particular ball was in my court, but he had always treated me well, always tried to allow me the life that I wanted to live. He had made the last couple of years of my life a lot less miserable than they wouldhave been, and I could see how much it made him unhappy to deliver bad news.
“When?”
“Next Monday,” he said. “I got no warning either. I’m supposed to spend three weeks at my cousin’s wedding in India, and it looks like I may have to cancel the whole trip.”
“How can they do that?”
“They can do that because they can do that,” he said.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath.
“But hold up. Don’t book your flights yet. I’m fighting it. I’ve told them it’s ridiculous. We’re writers, not brokers. I think I can push back.”
“When will you know?”
