“There she is,” George said, sly smile sharp. “You didn’t answer my texts, so I hit up Lidia. She invited me.”
“I’m glad!” Lizzie said genuinely. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you, I just get kinda wrapped up in things.”
“¿Más café?” Abuela asked George, pointing at his cup, to connect the dots between her Spanish tongue and his English ears.
He put his hands up in surrender. “Oh no, thank you! You could patent this stuff to wake the dead. One cup is plenty!”
Abuela laughed, patted his shoulder— Toohard?—and stood.
Lidia scooted closer to George. “So this campaign—”
“¿Es amigo tuyo?” Abuela asked Lizzie, walking up to her conspiratorially, with a fake smile. (Friend of yours?)
“Más o menos… te cae mal?” (More or less. Do you not like him?)
“Algo ahí está falso,” Abuela whispered, finger to temple. “Cría cuervos y te sacarán los ojos.”(There’s something fake there. Remember, if you raise crows, they’ll peck your eyes out.)
Lizzie blinked.Abuelaloved everyone—especially men who might be interested in her granddaughters. This was new.
George stood. “Gotta caffeinate and run. Lizzie—walk me out?”
She nodded. Goodbyes done, they stepped outside.
“How’s the project?” He asked.
“Good. Warehouse is 40% faster. Next week I’ll be in the office. I think it’ll be a bigger fight.”
“You’ll crush it. Just don’t let him push you out—like he did me.”
Lizzie opened her mouth, thinking the contract’s ironclad—but swallowed it, feeling that the observation would be callous.
George’s eyes flicked down. “You look hot today.”
Lizzie wasn’t sure why, but she heard Will’s voice in her head:“Don’t push it.”
“Oh—uh, thanks.”
“Gotta handle some stuff. But I’ll text you. I want to get to know you better.”
Or at all, Lizzie thought. She smiled, flattered by his attention still, but not sure how to react. She thought George seemed nice enough, but as was usual with most guys she met, she thought she felt less than she should.
He grabbed her hand and gave her a slow cheek kiss. He looked at her with hungry eyes and a sly smile. Lizzie knew she should respond somehow, but all she could think was how she wished she weren’t in this position, and she awkwardly said, “Thanks.”
George let out an awkward chuckle and let go of her hand. That was obviously not the reaction he was expecting. “Don’t leave me hanging, okay?”
He slid into his car and drove away. Lizzie stood there, not sure what to think.
What just happened?
She shook her head, and went back in to retell the whole awkward exchange to Abuela.
The project kept her from dwelling on it. In a blink, it was Monday.
Unlike the DC, where she arrived at 6 a.m. and beat traffic, office hours started at 8, and that meant rush hour. She arrived just before, frazzled from the drive, and walked up to the security desk. “Someone will escort you,” the guard said. “Wait here.”
Lizzie nodded and took a seat, anxiety ticking with the minutes. By 8:15, she was back at the desk. “Any issue?”
The guard glanced at the screen. “That’s odd, Miss. Molina said she’d be right down…”
