“We need more of that thinking in our design studio,” Naya says. “Our projects are always running behind because no one can decide on anything.”
“What do you do there?” I ask, grateful for the shift away from my own work.
Zara jumps in. “We’re a boutique digital design agency. Well, you probably know that from Ava. I handle visual composition and UX, and Naya does marketing strategy. Together with your brilliant sister, we create entire brand experiences for our clients.”
“Mostly we argue about font choices and hex codes for hours,” Ava adds with a laugh.
Jace, who’s been preoccupied with Maia, suddenly perks up. “I’m in software too. I do back-end development for a fintech startup.”
“Which one?” I ask, professional curiosity overriding my desire to ignore him.
“FinPulse. We’re still pretty small, but we just closed our Series B funding.”
“I’ve heard of you guys. Doing some interesting stuff with blockchain, right?”
Jace nods, looking pleased. “That’s us. We’re trying to democratize financial access through distributed—”
“God, honey, you promised no tech talk tonight,” Maia interrupts, placing a hand on his arm. “You know I can’t follow any of it.”
I remember that about her—how she’d tune out whenever I talked about my job, claiming it was all gibberish to her. At the time, I thought it was endearing. Now it just seems ignorant.
“What about you, Slade?” Naya asks. “I’m so curious about what you do.”
“I work at the same hospital as Bryce. I’m a surgeon,” Slade says simply. No elaboration, no self-promotion.
“A children’s surgeon,” Bryce clarifies with obvious pride in his friend. “One of the best pediatric trauma surgeons in the state.”
Something shifts in my chest—a mix of surprise and envy. I look at Slade with new eyes, trying to reconcile the quiet, intense man across from me with someone who saves children’s lives.
“That’s…incredible,” I say, and mean it. My job suddenly seems trivial in comparison.
Slade shrugs, uncomfortable with the attention. “It’s just a job.”
“A job where you save kids,” I counter before I can stop myself. “That’s not ‘just’ anything.”
His eyes meet mine again, and there’s something in them I can’t read. It makes my skin prickle with unexpected awareness.
“What made you choose pediatric surgery?” I ask.
“Kids are fascinating,” he says after a moment. “They’re resilient. They heal better than adults, both physically and emotionally. And they’re honest—they don’t hide how they feel. It’s refreshing.”
That’s the most I’ve heard him speak at once, and his voice has a gravity to it that commands attention. I find myself leaning forward.
“Do you enjoy your work?” he asks, turning the focus back on me. “The project management.”
“I do. It’s satisfying to take something chaotic and make it orderly. To see all the pieces come together.” I pause, surprised by my own honesty. “But I imagine it’s nothing like the satisfaction you get.”
“Different kinds of satisfaction,” he says. “Both valid.”
The server arrives with our appetizers, breaking the intensity of our exchange. I reach for my wine and find the glass empty. Another server materializes with a fresh bottle, and I accept the refill gratefully.
“What do you do outside of work?” Slade asks once the servers leave.
I fumble with my fork. Why is he so interested in me? And why do his questions make me feel like I’m being gently dissected?
“I, uh…I run. Sometimes. And I read a lot. Science fiction. What about you?”
“I restore vintage motorcycles. And I hike when I find time to get away from the hospital.”
