Page 26 of Cava with My Colleague

“You did a great job presenting the information,” Tessa says carefully.

I huff. “Okay, fine,” Sara says, reaching out to take my hand. “You know we love you, but it’s very obvious that you’re nervous when you start, and you bury yourself in the numbers because that’s where you’re comfortable.”

“I’m presenting the information,” I say, but even I can hear how defensive that sounds.

“Honey,” Emma says in her gentlest voice. “You hate this, don’t you?”

The question hits me harder than it should. “I can’t hate it. It’s a great opportunity. I get to travel, and Rebecca says this would boost my career.” I swallow hard. “You all think my presentation sucks, too?”

“Hang on,” Tessa says sharply. “We didn’t say it sucks.”

“Did someone else tell you it sucks?” Emma asks, concern in her voice.

I roll my eyes so hard it’s practically load-bearing. “Carlos did.”

“He said it sucks?” Tessa raises an eyebrow.

“No, not exactly.” I bite my lip. “He said it was boring.” Which is worse. “It sucks” is an opinion. “It’s boring” is a diagnosis.

There’s another beat of silence. No one contradicts him.

“It’s just that we know you so well,” Sara says carefully, “and you have such an interesting story. Maybe you can make it more personal?”

“Yeah,” Emma adds. “People love hearing great, inspirational stories like yours. You would give them hope, you know?”

I look off into the distance, tugging at the end of my ponytail. The woman in the headscarf flashes through my mind. It gives me hope.

Maybe my friends are right. Maybe Carlos was right, even if I hate admitting it.

“Just think about it,” Tessa says. “If you need help, come to us. Now, should we go meet Carlos, or should we go out to lunch?”

I glance across the room. Carlos is talking to a pharmaceutical rep, looking professional and competent and like someone I have absolutely no desire to interact with right now.

“Lunch,” I say immediately. “Definitely lunch.”

We head toward the exit, and I don’t look back.

10

Carlos

* * *

Zurich is, in my opinion, one of the most underrated cities in Europe. In my youth my wife and I came here once to hike the Stoos trail before it became a popular tourist destination, and I’ll never forget the views looking down on the lakes, the boats tiny toys floating on the water, the splashes of colors along the path of the cornflowers and arnicas in bloom, or the accompanying cacophony of the cowbells providing a soundtrack for the entire hike.

Sadly, this time I won’t get out to hike, as our presentation is in the morning, but I’ll get to do my favorite summer activity in the afternoon.

But first, I have to find Jade. She disappeared, leaving me to ensure her presentation is set up. Last night, she texted me asking if I had a spare cord for her phone—she’d forgotten hers—and I delivered it to her at the hotel bar last night. I wonder how much she drank. People are taking their seats, and already the room buzzes.

I hope she took the weekend to practice. While her presentation in Vienna was better than Berlin, there’s so much more potential.

On the suspicion of a hangover I check the women’s bathroom and there she is, holding a paper towel against the back of her neck. She’s leaning against the wall, her eyes closed, but at my entrance they flash open and then she straightens.

“Carlos, what are you doing in here?”

“Looking for you.” I eye her. She’s pale, her normally tanned skin taking on a gray pallor and the corners of her mouth are tight. “Do you need a Paracetamol? A hangover cure, perhaps?”

She glares at me. “I’m not hungover,” she snaps.