“I’m sorry.” The words feel inadequate, but I mean them. “For insinuating you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She watches me with those blue eyes that see too much.
“This is important,” I continue. “I was beginning to think this whole trip was a waste, but?—”
A flash of hurt crosses her features, there and gone in an instant, but not before I wish I could take back the words. My chest tightens. “Avah?—”
“It’s fine.” Her voice is light, but her teasing tone from a moment ago has evaporated. “It’s a business trip for you. I’m the stray you picked up on the beach.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?”
Christ, no. But I don’t know how to explain that she’s become the only part of it that matters. That if the Johnsons flat-out turn me down, I’ll still consider these past few days a success. Because of her. It sounds unhinged even in my own head.
“I appreciate you setting up this dinner,” I say instead. “It means a lot.”
“Then stop interrogating me.”
“It’s not about you. I’m worried I’m going to fuck this up.”
It’s a pathetic admission, but Avah’s expression softens.
“Just be yourself.”
I stare at her.
“No, actually, don’t do that.” She reaches over to pat my knee with exaggerated condescension. “Be the guy you were on the boat yesterday. The one who talked about wanting to make a difference.”
I’m not sure what that means. I’m always myself. Even when myself is an awkward, uptight grown-up nerd who couldn’t make small talk if my billions depended on it.
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all any of us can do.” She puts the cart back in drive. “Now let’s charm some grieving parents before you stroke out.”
I shake my head but feel a smile tug at my lips, my nerves easing slightly. Leave it to Avah to cut through the bullshit.
The Johnsons’ villa is smaller than mine but no less elegant, with a wraparound terrace overlooking the beach. Joel greets us at the door with an expression best described as cautiously tolerant. Mariel is warmer, though her eyes hold the same wariness I’ve seen in every exchange I’ve managed to arrange over the past year.
They’ve already decided who I am: the tech billionaire who sees their life’s work as another notch on his acquisition belt.
I want to tell them they’re wrong, but the truth is more complicated. For years, I’ve been exactly the empty shell my sister accused me of being. Trying to change now doesn’t erase the damage I’ve already done.
Drinks are served out back, and for the first ten minutes, I’m more awkward than normal, if that’s possible. Every question feels like a gauntlet, and I want to kick myself in the nuts as I watch Joel’s face close off by degrees. I’m blowing it.
Suddenly, Avah grabs my wrist and squeezes hard. It’s a clear message to let her take over, and desperate as I am, I’m happy to do it. She laughs at one of Joel’s lame jokes about fancy resort food, and I watch in amazement as his shoulders visibly relax minutes into an animated discussion of Denver’s best street tacos.
Then she turns this hidden well of charm on Mariel, complimenting the gold star pendant she always wears, and following it up with a question about the design that leads Mariel into a story about their daughter’s love of astronomy. The older woman’s face transforms as she talks about stargazing from the back porch of their cabin near Steamboat Springs and the telescope her daughter received for her twelfth birthday.
Avah just found a way to give a grieving mother permission to remember her daughter as the curious girl she was rather than a tragedy. She’s a fucking miracle.
I realize, with a jolt of surprise, that she’s also done her research on the Johnsons. She knows about NorthStar’scommunity forums and the peer mentor program they launched nine months ago. She asks Joel about the caregivers’ retreat they piloted in Steamboat last summer, and his eyes literally sparkle as he explains the challenges of scaling something so personal.
Every few minutes, she finds a way to draw me into the conversation.
“Jeremy can’t stop going on about the app integration he envisions,” she says, turning to me with an expectant look. “Tell them about your ideas for connecting patients to support staff in real-time as they begin treatment.”
It’s a bridge across the social chasm I can never seem to cross on my own. I stumble at first, but find my footing as Joel leans in with genuine interest.
