“I mean, I miss Erica a bit, but I’m so pissed that she’s siding with Sloane and Morgan on the whole company thing that I don’t even know what to say to her anymore.” I take a sip of my wine, trying to wash away the bitter taste the thought of my family brings. “The whole thing is just so messy. I’m trying not to think about it.”
“Well, clearly that’s working out great for you,” Sophie says with a smirk. “You look super chill about it.”
I stick my tongue out at her and Sophie smiles. She drove down from Seattle yesterday morning to visit me for the weekend and see my new place. I moved into the studio pretty much the day after viewing it, and it’s only been about a week, so the apartment still looks like a semi-disaster. Even more so now since Sophie brought up some of my boxes that she’d been storing.
I have no idea how I’ve accumulated so many clothes and knick-knacks over the years, but the studio currently resembles a thrift store explosion rather than the cozy haven I’d envisioned.
“You know,” Sophie says, pausing mid-chew and looking past me, “we should do that when we’re older. Make it a whole aesthetic.”
I turn and see two women who look to be in their seventies, both wearing matching lavender cardigans and pearl necklaces, being seated in the far corner. They look like they could be sisters, laughing together about something as they settle in.
“Oh my gosh, we should totally do that. Coordinated elderly sisters.” The sight makes me unexpectedly nostalgic. “That reminds me of when Mom would take us to that tearoom on Capitol Hill and we’d insist on wearing matching dresses.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Sophie says, watching the ladies settle into their table. “So iconic.”
“Very,” I say, smiling at them. When I look back, Sophie’s expression has shifted to something more melancholy. “You alright?” I ask.
“Yeah, sometimes I just wish you hadn’t left.” She sighs. “I mean, I’m happy for you, but Sloane and Morgan are so frustrating, and Erica doesn’t do anything about it. She just goes along with them. Sloane’s talking with the team about adding new engagement features to the app to try and boost retention even more.”
“I couldn’t stay.” I fiddle with my napkin, pleating the fabric between my fingers. “You know that. What they’re doing with that app is wrong. Mom would be horrified if she were still around. I’m sure Dad is unhappy with it all too, not that I’d reach out to talk to him, but still. I just couldn’t continue watching how far it’s strayed from everything it was supposed to be.”
It’s more than just the company, though. Part of me still grieves for what we used to be. Before the divorce, before Dad’s affair shattered everything we thought we knew about our family. Growing up as a Hayes meant pressure and high expectations, but I believed we were solid underneath. I believed we loved each other. Then the truth about Dad came out and it was like someone had pulled a thread. Suddenly the whole thing unraveled.
“I know.” Sophie deflates a little. “But you walking away didn’t fix anything. The app is still doing what it’s doing. Kids are still getting hooked on it.”
The guilt is familiar—that weight that lives in my chest, the question I ask myself at three in the morning when I can’t sleep. Did I do the right thing? Should I have stayed and kept fighting? Dad gave the company to Mom as part of the settlement, and when she died just a few years later, the five of us inherited it along with all the baggage. Sophie and I had sided with Mom. Our other three sisters hadn’t. That fracture runs deep, and the fights over the company’s direction have only made it worse.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I admit, and my voice comes out smaller than I want it to. “I tried fighting from inside for years and nothing worked. So I left. Maybe it was running away.Probablyit was. But I couldn’t keep being part of something that hurts kids.”
Sophie reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I just miss you.”
“I know.” I squeeze back, feeling the familiar ache of missing both her and our mom. “I miss you too. I’m sorry I kind of left you out there to deal with it alone.”
She waves her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just upset that I can’t change it either. And I miss our daily hangouts.”
I smile, grateful for the shift in mood. “Me too. Though I think we FaceTime each other enough to make up for it.”
Movement catches my eye, and whatever Sophie’s saying fades into background noise. Theo is walking out of a room just off the kitchen. He’s wearing dark slacks and a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his light brown hair pushed back off his forehead.
He stops at a nearby table to greet a couple by the window, leaning down slightly to hear what they’re saying over the restaurant noise. Then he moves on to someone who looks like a manager, a middle-aged woman with a clipboard who’s nodding along as he goes over something with her. A mom juggling a baby and a diaper bag stumbles near their table, and Theo reaches out smoothly to steady her elbow, making sure she’s okay before continuing his conversation.
He looks like he’s handling everything, keeping the machine running smoothly.The competence radiating off him is doing things to me that I have zero intention of fighting. I take a long sip of wine.
“See something you like?” Sophie asks, and when I glance over, she’s watching me with one eyebrow raised and a knowingsmirk. “It better be good, since you’re clearly not listening to a word I’m saying.”
“Sorry.” I don’t even try to look apologetic. “And yes. It’s very good.”
Sophie turns around to look, completely unsubtle about it. “Holy shit.That’sthe landlord? The DILF?” She turns back to me, eyes wide. “And you said he’s sweet and successful, too? Em, I would climb that man like a tree.”
“It’s more than just physical though,” I say, watching him laugh at something the manager-looking woman says. “We talked for a long time when he showed me the apartment and it just flowed.”
Though the sight of those forearms, tanned and muscular where his sleeves are rolled up, is definitely not helping me think clearly about emotional connections. I swallow hard.
“Yeah yeah, I know,” Sophie says. “He’s good with his kid, seems nice,yada yada. That’s all great, but if he’s single then honestly, you gotta make a move. Strike while the iron is hot.”
I suppress a groan. “I asked around. That teacher I told you about, Lindsey? She said he’s one of those guys everyone has a crush on but she’s never seen him date since his divorce. Apparently he’s focused on his business and being a dad. So I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe he’s just not interested in dating right now. Plus he probably looks at me like I’m a child.”
Sophie rolls her eyes dramatically. “For someone so smart, you can be so ridiculously naive about men. I highly doubt he hasn’t noticed how hot you are. You’re gorgeous, Em.”
