“A free burrito is nothing to balk at,” Liam says, getting up to stand beside me and also looking down, but stopping short of putting his forehead on the glass. “So, you’re glad you came, then?”
“I’m very glad. The pop-up is going to be great. Plus, we’re only two rehearsals in, and I’ve already learned so much from Ellie.”
“More than you’ve learned from my aunt?”
I shift backwards to stand up straight. “Just different things, really.”
Liam shifts a little closer to me as more people begin to line the guardrail. I’ve never felt so cozy four hundred feet in the air.
“What was it that first got you involved in the theater?” he asks.
I smile to myself as a soft, dreamy mist coats my mind. “It was my mom.” My smile fades a bit as I continue. “She died of ovarian cancer when I was four, but growing up, my dad always told me stories about her. My dad is a doctor—a spinal surgeon. And he was very into everything that you’d expect a spinal surgeon to be into. Medical journals, biology. But when he started dating my mom, who was a preschool teacher, she told him it was important to have varying interests to stay well-rounded. So the two of them started going to the theater once a month. It was their special thing. And once I got old enough, maybe ten or so, he started takingmeto the theater, and then it became our special thing, too.”
Liam glances down at me, a small grin gracing his face.
“I like to think my mom would be happy I went into the arts. Maybe it’s morbid, but when you’re on stage, the lights are so bright that you can’t really see the audience. And I always loved that, because whenever I was in a show, I would pretend that she was out there watching me.”
“That’s a very nice thought,” Liam says quietly. “And I think your mother would be incredibly proud of you.”
I can’t quite articulate how much I want to believe him.
“I doubt she is these days. All I do now is grunt work and busywork, and I basically just get paid to keep Juliette company.”
“I don’t believe that. Whenever my aunt speaks about you, she always makes you sound irreplaceable.”
“That’s only because I make her tea the way she likes it.”
“Well, what’s more important than a good cup of tea?”
I shake my head as my eyes trail along the Thames, from Big Ben to the perfectly Gothic architecture of Parliament. “Tell me about you—about your work,” I then say.
Liam stiffens. Barely enough to notice, but we’re pressed so close that I feel the muscles clenching up his arm and into his shoulder. I didn’t expect a normal question to strike such a nerve.
“Right, well, I started off as a web developer. I got into it at university and I loved it. I was somehow good at it, which was a bit of a revelation considering I’m spectacularly mediocre in all other areas of my life.”
“Doubtful.”
“No, I am. In primary school I was literally voted ‘most spectacularly mediocre.’”
“I’m sure the eleven-year-old in you was deeply honored.”
“Very much so. Anyways, after university I started working and got lots of experience. Then after a few years, I decided I wanted to branch out on my own. I started a web consulting firm and brought on some of the developers I knew. We would primarily work for companies who didn’t have established web teams and set them on the right track. We’d sign a contract for six months or so, and then do work that other developers would take a fiscal year to complete, thereby saving the company the time and money that they’d otherwise use to hire full-time employees.”
“How very savvy.”
“Yes, as it turns out it was. We did shockingly well and expanded until the final number was two hundred and eight developers. We were a great group. Soon after, I received an offer to be acquired, and I took it.”
“Just like that?” I ask. The compartment stops moving for a moment as we’ve now reached the very top.
“Well, it wasn’t quite as rash a decision as that. Considering how quickly and successfully we were growing, I had received a few acquisitions offers over the years, but with the last one, it just felt like the right time to sell.”
“That’s good, then. So, what about all your employees? They’re with this new company now?”
“They are,” he says, a little strained but trying to hide it. “The transition went smoothly.”
“Smoothly enough that you’re yet to go back, right?”
“That would be correct. Good memory, by the way.”
