I put my phone away, but I can’t quite shake the smile from my lips.
Lior and Noah’s wedding feels like a lifetime ago. That desperate encounter in the bathroom, the stranger who made me laugh when I wanted to cry. I never got his name. Never expected to see him again.
And now he’s here, leaving sticky notes and cookie crumbs and chaos in his wake, and I’m not sure what to do with any of it.
My phone buzzes one more time.
Thatcher:
PS I’m naming the ant I saved Anthony. He lives in my desk plant now. We’re bonding.
I definitely don’t smile.
But my face does twitch.
7
THATCHER
Steam risesfrom the Chinese food containers spread across my coffee table, carrying the scent of garlic, ginger, and fried rice. Alli sits cross-legged on the floor across from me, her chopsticks hovering over the lo mein.
It’s Saturday night, which means takeout, gossip, and absolutely no work talk. Or at least, that was the plan before I opened my mouth.
“Now you have to tell me, and I want every single sordid detail,” she says.
“So, I had this brilliant idea, right?” I launch into my story between bites of orange chicken. “Pierce has been working really late, and he always looks so tired. And you know how cookies make everything better?”
“Oh no,” Alli mutters, but she’s smiling. “Where did you hide the cookies this time?”
“That’s not the point!” I protest, but I can feel heat rising in my cheeks because she knows me too well. “The point is that I wanted to do something nice for him.” I steal a piece of her kung pao chicken while she’s distracted by a notification on her phone.
“Okay, so what happened?” she asks, turning back to the food, fencing my chopsticks away with hers.
“There’s a new cookie shop downtown, and they make these amazing chocolate-chip cookies, the fancy kind with sea salt on top? And I wanted to surprise him, you know? Make him smile for once.”
“I know this is going to end in disaster, but so far, unless you ripped your boss’s shirt off and smeared cookies on his chest before licking it off, I’m not seeing it.”
I snort but refrain from saying that sounds like anot-bad idea. “I left the cookies in a bag in his desk drawer—not even on any important papers!—and went home feeling like the best assistant ever.”
“But?”
“But apparently our building has an ant problem.” I pause, watching her face as understanding dawns. “A really enthusiastic ant problem.”
“No,” she gasps, her lips twitching.
“I didn’t even notice it at first until I came back to grab my card before getting Pierce his coffee. He was there with a horrified look as this perfect little trail of ants, all organized and purposeful, marched right up to his drawer. They even seemed to be moving in neat formations, which I kind of respect, you know?”
Alli snorts, shaking her head as she reaches for the lo mein. “Only you would admire ants for their organizational skills while they’re invading your workplace.”
“They were very efficient!” I defend.
“So what happened next?”
“Well, Roberto from maintenance showed up with their sprays and traps, looking like some kind of pest control SWAT team.”
“And your boss?”
“And Pierce… Oh man, his face when he saw the ants doing their little cookie crumb parade across his perfectly organized desk? I thought he was going to explode.”
