“Yeah, I know. I’m asking you what is going on, Ellie. Not because there’s a score at the end. Do you get me?” he asked, willing her to see who was sitting in front of her.
Ellie took a breath, but her face didn’t soften one bit. “My parents are getting a divorce.”
“What? Gio and Peg? The dream team? You’re kidding me.”
“I am not. By the way, they were never the dream team, okay? That’s just something your father used to say because he knew my mom put up with my dad’s training and travel schedule. It wasn’t easy for her, you know? It wasn’t easy for any of us.”
“I know, Ellie. Don’t forget my mom did it, too.”
“It was different for you. You boys were all athletes. You were all involved in it; we were not. You didn’t have to see your mom do everything alone like my mom did—shopping, cleaning, organizing, dealing with me and Ben. Your mom is a doctor. She had enough of her own life to not get bulldozed by you guys.”
“Are you saying maybe a divorce is a good thing?”
“Are you serious?No.It’s not a good thing. These are my parents we are talking about here. They belong together! They seriously won’t be able to survive without each other.”
“Sorry. I am confused,” he said. “You’re telling me they had a lousy relationship and then you’re telling me that you want them to stay together.”
“I didn’t say it was lousy—not all the time. It was hard. We always had a fifth member of our family, and it was water polo. Unfortunately, that’s what got most of everyone’s attention. But we made it. I mean, we’re okay. Hard things are still worth sticking with. Maybe that’s difficult for you to understand.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t easy. I am sorry you had to go through that, but is there any reason you’re insulting me?”
“I’m sorry if you feel insulted.”
Cris leaned back in the tiny café chair again. It was so small, there wasn’t a lot of room to be exasperated. It was hard to imagine how hours of tense conversation would miraculously become a riveting interview revealing what good a guy he was. Maybe if he could figureout a way to erase everything she thought she knew about him, he’d have a shot at starting this morning all over again. Ellie was right about one thing. The only way this was going to work was if they pretended they weren’t anything, ever.
“Okay, I get it. We have to be nothing here.” He could tell she was looking for any reason to brandish her pen at him again, so his face remained serious. “I’m not being sarcastic, Ellie.”
“You’ll see. In this case, a friendship would be a liability. Not that we are really friends,” she said, way too matter-of-factly for Cris. “It would be a reason for people to question the motive of the interview. You get to go back to being respected, and I get to show—continue to show, I mean, that I have people’s best interests at heart. The rest, I’m sorry to say, is bullshit.”
“We are not friends.”
“Wewerefriends when we were kids.”
“I get it. Blank slate,” he said, though his mouth struggled to form the words.
“Yes.”
“And the past doesn’t matter.”
Ellie paused. She flicked her eyes up to his. “Correct.”
“Open minds all around, then.”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he confirmed.
“Yes. Perfect.” Ellie looked back down to her notes, but it didn’t seem like she was reading anything.
“I am sorry about your parents, though.”
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it,” she said.
“Uncappuccinoe una brioche al cioccolato,” said the waiter, placing the cup of espresso and a tiny spoon, plus the plate with thepastry, down in front of Cris, who ripped open a packet of sugar and stirred it into the coffee.
“Buon appetito,” said Ellie into her notebook.
“Thanks. I’d ask if you’d like a bite, but I don’t know if you like chocolate.” He smiled. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. He swore he saw her almost smile for a split second as he bit into the brioche. The pastry was perfect—a tiny bit warm from the oven still and with just enough chocolate pastry cream in the center. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste that reminded him so much of why he loved being here.
