Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
“Did your grandfather tell you I’m one of the youngest senior managers at my firm?” Bradley Cooper (not that one) asked.
It was an abrupt pivot, but honestly, Haleigh was happy to talk about anything else if it meant they could stop playing The Price Is Right with the menu. “He didn’t. But in Pépère’s defense, he doesn’t know much about banking. He keeps most of his money hidden in mason jars in the basement.”
Bradley scooted his chair a little closer to the table. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Your grandfather said you were in editing?”
Haleigh shrugged. “Kind of. I freelance. I work with a lot of independent authors who self-publish, some newer authors trying to get their work out, and some academics who don’t have the time or patience to proofread their manuscripts.”
“And you make a living that way?”
The skepticism in his tone re-summoned Haleigh’s desire to play soccer with his shins. Her jaw tightened. “I get by,” she ground out.
“I’d love to see your business plan.”
Her heart stilled in her chest. “My what?” In the abstract, she knew what a business plan was, but she had no idea why she’d need one.
“Your budget, your marketing strategy and product or service plan, projections, ideas for growth.”
He might as well have been speaking another language. Haleigh had none of these things. Her only plan was to make enough money to survive.
She shoved her hands into her lap to stop them from shaking. She shouldn’t have let Stanton talk her out of wearing her key necklace. “Well, I don’t really have one of those. I started editing to get by after I left my full-time job and it kind of… stuck.” She hated how unprofessional and young she sounded.
Bradley’s frown deepened. “What about retirement? Do you have an IRA? A 401(k)? Does your savings account have a decent interest rate?”
A buzz began at the back of her neck, right between her shoulders, rattling its way toward her scalp. Panic always manifested first as a physical sensation. Then her brain would kick in—all those thoughts she couldn’t control. Couldn’t stop wondering. Couldn’t rationalize out of existence.
“I’m only twenty-five,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ve got time to figure that out.”
There was warm pressure on her knee. It took her a second to realize that it was Bradley’s palm, steadying her.
When she glanced up, he was holding out a business card with the other hand.
She stared at it without touching it.
“I can help,” he said.
Haleigh shoved her knee out from under his hand and stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She caught the chair right before it toppled.
It was an effort not to run across the restaurant. Her knees were trembling, and her ankles suddenly felt too floppy in her heels.
Plenty of the dates she’d been on over the years had made Haleigh feel like crap, but this might win the medal for the worst yet. Because right now, instead of questioning whether she was interesting enough or fun enough or whatever enough for someone to want to spend time with, she was questioning every single one of her life choices.
Maybe her family was right that she was incapable of building an actual life for herself. Maybe she should have listened to Joey all this time.
Maybe Haleigh truly was a mess.
Against her will, her brain was running math problems, reminding her that being on this date had meant pushing out the return of her current edit by another day, which meant a delayed deposit. She couldn’t put her cell phone payment on her credit card again this month. That minimum payment had crept high enough that she could barely shoulder it.
What if Bradley was right? She’d never looked at her odd jobs as a career. Maybe she should have a business plan? A budget? More marketing than a terrible website and word of mouth? Some way to aim toward a future rather than only trying to tread water in the present?
But she didn’t know how to do any of these things. And she couldn’t afford to hire someone to help.
Swallowing a gulp of air, she pushed inside the restroom and shut herself into a stall. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that expression on Bradley’s face, like Haleigh was a fish floundering on shore, slowly dying. Breathe, she told herself. In and out. In and out. She pressed her back against the cool wood door and cast her gaze to the track lighting on the ceiling.
She wasn’t in trouble. No one was sending her to collections. Her bills would get paid. Her therapist would tell her to focus on what’s happening, not on what could. “You can’t tell the future,” she’d say.
Then they’d do grounding exercises.
“I’m in a bathroom stall at Chantilly’s,” Haleigh whispered. “The air-freshener smells like outside after a summer rain.” She ran her palms over the fabric of her dress. It felt cool against her skin. Soft instrumental music sang out from corner speakers. Those details were real. Haleigh’s panicked thoughts were not.
Once her pulse slowed from a scream, she closed the toilet lid and sat down, pulling her phone from her purse.
She hadn’t needed Jack to save her from her last two dating disasters. But this was different.
Haleigh Berkshire: Time for that rescue.
He responded immediately.
Jackson Brooks: Uh oh.
Haleigh Berkshire: He ordered oysters.
Jackson Brooks: SEA SLUGS
Haleigh Berkshire: I can’t just leave, right?
Jackson Brooks: You kind of committed to this whole deal, for better or for worse.
Haleigh Berkshire: I don’t remember a wedding ceremony.
Jackson Brooks: Joey will find a way to indict you if you quit now.
Haleigh Berkshire: She hasn’t passed the bar yet. She isn’t qualified.
Jackson Brooks: Are the oysters really that bad?
Haleigh Berkshire: He tried to hand me a business card. And basically gave me a lecture on how to run a business and that I’m doing it wrong. And he ordered for me. After I’d already ordered for myself. And he won’t stop talking about money.
Haleigh looked back at her message and sighed. Written out this way, it didn’t sound nearly as bad as it felt.
As desperately as she wanted to leave, none of this was really grounds to abandon a date. Bradley wasn’t threatening her. He hadn’t openly insulted her. If she left now, her sister would accuse her of sabotaging the night. Or not trying.
Then she’d never get that sabbatical that seemed a little closer to reality every day.
She could suffer her way through the rest of this evening. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done the same countless times before.
Haleigh Berkshire: *sigh* You’re right. Cancel the rescue squad.
Tucking her phone away, she washed her hands, then smoothed her hair and reapplied her lipstick.
She’d eat her eighty-dollar steak (but not the oysters) and make the most of the night. Maybe she’d learn something to help with her business. Then she could add this date to her long list of proof that dating, and not Haleigh, was the problem.
When she returned to the table, Bradley was sliding his phone next to her silverware. He nodded to it as she sat back down.
“I’ve been thinking about this. If we take fifty dollars of your income every week, and put them in some low-risk investment accounts, it would help you to build some retirement savings.”
Haleigh frowned at the screen. She rarely had fifty dollars to spare each month, never mind each week. Two hundred dollars was half her student loan payment and almost her entire car bill. Then there were her car insurance, her phone, her two credit cards, and the money she insisted on giving Stanton, even if he didn’t want it. If Haleigh was going to eat more than ice chips and toast for meals, she couldn’t invest that much money, even if the idea was appealing. It would be nice to have something to fall back on. To know if a payment from a client didn’t come in, she had a cushion she could lean on.
All Haleigh had was rock-hard floor.
“What about ten dollars a week?” she suggested. “What would that do?”
Brad looked at her like she’d asked if he’d ever ride a hippo down the highway. “It would take a lot longer to build any equity.”
“Right. Of course.” Haleigh grabbed a piece of bread from the basket on the table and slathered it with butter before shoving it in her mouth.
“If you need a better job, I could probably set you up with an assistant position at my firm.”
Given her fraught relationship with math, Haleigh could only imagine what a job like that would do to her anxiety.
She scanned the table, her eyes landing on their appetizer. “How were the oysters?” Half the plate was already missing.
Brad grinned. “Excellent. You should try one.”
Haleigh would rather do a keg stand on the edge of a twenty-story building. “I’ll wait for my meal, thanks.”
As if he hadn’t heard her, Bradley lifted one of the shells off the silver bowl full of ice and squeezed lemon juice on it. Then he rose, and, bending over the table, attempted to press the oyster to Haleigh’s lips.
He was trying to feed her. What gave him any indication that this was the right move? Feeding each other was like a level-nine dating activity. Right up there with sharing intimate fantasies and meeting each other’s friends. They were not at level nine. They were never leaving the parking garage.
When she didn’t open her mouth—the smell of the blob of sea creature was vile enough—he reached forward with his other hand as if he meant to catch her chin. Hold her head in place.
Haleigh’s thoughts were now nothing but incoherent screams. Her flight-or-fight instinct had her arm tensing to slap the shell out of her face.
From across the room, someone yelled out, “There you are!” with enough volume to startle Bradley back into his own seat. Haleigh shoved her chair farther from the table and threw back her entire glass of wine. A Bradley cleanser for her palate.
Glancing up over the rim as the last drops hit her tongue, she spotted a tall brunet maneuvering his way toward them, a harried hostess hot on his tail.
She blinked a few times. She’d told Jack not to come. And yet there he was. Had her close encounter with that oyster caused hallucinations? The smell was certainly strong enough—like an entire boat full of fish had been crammed up her nose. It still lingered there like a ghost.
Bradley seemed to see him too, though, his sharp features pinched.
“Haleigh!” Jack called out.
In her shock, Haleigh didn’t get a really good look at her best friend until he stopped at their table. He was drenched, his light brown hair matted to his forehead, his shirt streaked with water. His khakis were soaked to the knee, as if he’d been wading in a river.
Her gaze shot toward the window. Outside, the sky was clear of clouds, the moon and stars twinkling against a clear black canvas.
“What—” she mumbled.
“ There you are. I was starting to think your grandfather set you up with a serial killer or something.” He swiped at his forehead like he’d run all the way here.
As he gestured with his arms, water from his shirt dripped onto the back of Bradley’s neck and suit jacket.
Bradley jumped, brushing the droplets from his skin. “Dude, who are you?”
Haleigh cleared her throat. “Well—”
“I’m Haleigh’s roommate.”
That was a new one.
She’d never had much of a poker face, but she did her best. “And why are you here, roommate ?” How had he figured out where she was to begin with?
“You weren’t answering your phone.” Jack shook his head, then turned his attention back to Bradley, gesturing at his wet clothes. “I’ve been telling her forever to clean her hair out of the drains. She’s like a walking hair ball.”
Haleigh squawked indignantly. She did shed a lot, but that was beside the point.
“The apartment flooded,” Jack continued. “Management has a plumber there now, but they’re going to need to do mold remediation.”
“Wait. Are you serious?” Haleigh covered her hand with her mouth in dismay. But really, she was trying not to laugh. Mold remediation? This man had renovated one house and now he thought he was an expert contractor.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your night, but I need Haleigh to come deal with her stuff,” Jack said, finally addressing her. How he was keeping a straight face, she’d never know. “We need to get out so they can do the work, and some of the library books you left on the floor have gotten… soggy.”
As he spoke, Jack reached across the table for some bread, managing to press himself against Bradley’s side in the process and leaving another dark streak of wetness in his wake.
She knew him well enough to know he was doing it on purpose.
Haleigh looked to her date. She widened her eyes and molded her expression into something remorseful. “I’m so sorry to cut things short, but I have to…” She glanced between them. “… deal with this. It sounds bad.”
Shock spread across Bradley’s face. “Are you serious?”
Haleigh gestured helplessly to Jack. “It’s an emergency.”
“This is a five-star restaurant. You’re going to leave for library books.” Something like disdain now laced his voice.
Damn straight she was. Imaginary library books at that.
She shrugged.
Shaking his head, Bradley turned back to his oysters and pulled out his phone.
It seemed like a fitting enough goodbye.
Haleigh followed Jack toward the door, the poor hostess gaping at them as they passed. Glancing down at the tracks of water on the floor, Haleigh offered her a truly apologetic smile.
Then they were hurrying for the exit.