Chapter 17
H ours later, after Charlotte had rushed through emails and the must-dos on her list, she opened a fresh presentation and dove in so she could show Gregory the scope of her faery carnival and what it would mean for his beloved numbers. Something like the faery carnival could be a foil to Peak Fusion, but it was only the beginning of an idea. When she knocked on his door toward the end of the day, the adrenaline of creation was still fueling her steps. Despite the lack of proper sleep, she was on her fourth or fifth wind of the day.
“Hey,” she said. “Do you have thirty minutes?”
Gregory set down one of his notebooks and made a show of glancing at his watch and looking around his empty office, devoid of personal touches; Charlotte thought he could use a plant and made a note to bring him one—her dad always had cuttings propagating, surely something was suitable for the windowsill.
“Not like anyone else is here, or like I have anywhere else to be,” he said.
“Great! I have an idea I want to present to you, sparked by what you said last night.”
Gregory steepled his fingers in front of him, a perplexed expression on his face. “Interesting.”
“You look like a super-villain right now with your hands like that,” Charlotte pointed out.
He split his hands apart and rubbed his fingertips into his temples. “Isn’t that what I am? A super-villain who wants to add evil, generic carnival rides to your park?”
“Please,” Charlotte said. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Never mind that she had indeed thought of Gregory that way when he arrived. “Are you sure this is a good time? You look like you could use a break.”
Gregory lowered his head and kept massaging his temples, making his hair fall into a curtain around his face. “Nah, I’m used to long hours on projects; my mom has a knack for giving me the projects that tend toward all-consuming. She doesn’t do that with my brother.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I can outwork Ian every day of the week and produce actual results. He’s more about networking than executing. Ian would also argue that I’m not fun, but he doesn’t step up to lessen my workload.” Charlotte picked up on a hint of resentment. If she were the sibling in a family business doing the brunt of the work and getting “rewarded” with more work, she’d feel the same. His situation with his family business wasn’t unlike Emily’s with Lands. She didn’t necessarily want to be part of it, but she still strove for its success.
“I see.” Yeah, he definitely needed a break, and to see some of the town where he’d been staying and would be staying for at least a couple more months. “I think we need a change of scenery. You hungry?”
He lifted his head and Charlotte couldn’t take the spark of excitement in his eyes. The gray flecks positively glimmered in the office lights. “Starving.”
She grinned. “Me too. Come on, grab your stuff. Hope you like pizza.” She glanced at his pale green button-down shirt. “And that you aren’t a messy eater.”
“I’m not,” he said, “but pizza sauce is a test for even the neatest of us. Okay if I run home and change and meet you wherever we’re going? I can give you time if you need it?”
Charlotte looked down at her usual hoodie-and-jeans combo.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll go and snag us a table. It’s a place called The Dragon’s Breath, right on Main Street. Can’t miss it.”
“I’ve driven by and would not have guessed it was a restaurant.”
“Bar, café, board game place—all of the above. Let me know when you’re on the way from your place. See you in a few.”
Charlotte returned to her office and took a few extra minutes to pack up and then run to the bathroom to check her hair and makeup—not because she cared what she looked like to Gregory because this wasn’t a date or anything, but because she wanted to give him a head start.
Wait. Had she asked him on a date just now? And this on top of their pending movie night. No. He was Gregory, a work colleague, an uptight venture capitalist who had terrible ideas and was as likely to go behind Charlotte’s back to put a scrambler in the park as he was to support her. Wasn’t he? It’s not like being a VC was his life’s goal. And she’d been watching him try. Charlotte had seen him head into Fairytale Land’s dark ride, A Selkie’s Tale, on his own recently, not even as part of his trying one new thing a day. She was seeing him discover a sense of wonder and play in real time.
Would a date be the worst thing?
No, Charlotte argued with herself. It could not be a date. Getting mixed up with work colleagues had proved to be a terrible idea in the past. She was hopefully leaving for Paris by summer anyway. Besides, she was only making sure he saw a part of the world that wasn’t his office at work or his temporary home. She was being a friend. And, she thought, she needed to get out too, so it wasn’t entirely selfless.
Sure , she thought as she applied red-tinted lip balm to her naked lips and then smoothed her ponytail, keep telling yourself that .
* * *
Charlotte chose a high top near the front of the bar because a booth seemed to blur the line between professionals—work friends, even—meeting for dinner and a date. The lighting was brighter over the high-top tables, too. She made sure to pick a table with a prime view of the bar’s titular breathing dragon.
When Gregory walked in, she almost fell off her stool and knocked her purse off its hook under the table in the process.
He wasn’t wearing a suit. Or any part of a suit. Gregory was in denim and a short-sleeved, gray, slim-fit T-shirt with a slight V-neck. A V-neck! The sleeves showed a sliver of his mystery tattoo, but Charlotte was too focused on how the dark jeans rode his hips and how the notch in the top of the shirt showed a triangle of smooth skin in the middle of his collarbone.
He spotted her, waved, and walked toward the table. She picked up her purse to stop herself from staring. Gregory was handsome in a suit—hot, even. But Gregory in casual attire was downright dangerous. She’d never come this undone over a pair of jeans.
“That was fast,” she said.
“I was extremely motivated by the idea of food that wasn’t fresh from my microwave.” He reached her and seemed unsure of how to greet her here, out in the world and away from Lands. He glanced at her, the other stool at the table, then her again before committing to the fastest hug in the history of ever. Fast but not so fast that Charlotte didn’t register the pressure of his arms on her back, loose and awkward. His eucalyptus and foresty scent lingered between them as he stepped away and they both got situated on their stools.
She handed him two menus. “Here are the food and drink menus. You can’t go wrong with anything.”
She’d thought about choosing for them, but she didn’t know enough about Gregory’s food preferences and didn’t want to cause an argument over olives or something.
“Any particular recommendations?” he asked.
She suggested a few pizzas and beers and ciders that paired well with them. “How do you feel about pickles?”
“In general, I like them,” Gregory said. “On pizza, I’m not sold.”
Charlotte tilted her head, considering. “They could be interesting on pizza, but I was planning to get an order of fried pickles for us to share if you’re cool with that?”
“Absolutely.”
Learning that Gregory liked fried food and owned a pair of jeans. What an illuminating evening this was turning out to be.
They placed their orders, Gregory choosing a pizza with a sesame seed crust and pesto base, Charlotte picking her usual margherita pizza. When their beers arrived, they raised their glasses.
“Here’s to not being at work. I even put my phone on ‘do not disturb,’ ” Charlotte said. “I’m proud of us.”
“Good idea, I’m going to do the same,” Gregory agreed, sliding his phone from his pocket and silencing notifications. He clinked the rim of his pint glass against hers.
Sometime around swallowing the first sip, Charlotte realized she had no idea what to talk with Gregory about if not work. It wasn’t an uncommon problem for her regardless of the company. He was quiet too, intent on pulling condensation down his glass with a finger.
“So,” they both started at the same time and laughed.
“You go ahead,” Charlotte said, happy to turn over the conversation-starting pressure.
“That dragon above the bar is badass—almost looks like it could be part of Lands. I can’t stop staring. Is it breathing?” Gregory said with an appropriate amount of awe.
“It is! The owner, Luke, did everything from sculpting it to building the animatronic elements,” Charlotte gushed. She didn’t love The Dragon’s Breath only for its superior pizza; she was proud of her friend. “He’s super creative. He’s done a lot of animatronics work for my uncle at the park; he touched basically every creature on the Wintertide Trail. In fact, we should reach out to him about the mermaid palace. I bet he’d have some brilliant ideas for sea creatures for the interior.”
Gregory sipped his beer and sat back in his stool, his face unreadable. “Sounds like you have a great relationship with him, so you should probably reach out.”
Whoa , Charlotte thought. That comment seemed loaded. Was Gregory jealous of Luke?
Charlotte waved her hand. “Nah, I mean, we went to high school together; we’re just old friends.” Gregory visibly relaxed at the explanation. He had been jealous. Charlotte filed that thought for examination later.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I like to see him get creative work. He loves running this place and all the community that comes with it, but sometimes I think he misses working in his shop and making things like the dragon.”
“We should reach out next week, then,” Gregory said. “Once we get past all our permit troubles.”
Their fried pickles with a side of spicy ranch arrived. Charlotte pointed at the container. “You okay if we share that as long as we promise to not double dip?”
“As if I would do such a thing,” Gregory said. He retrieved a pickle for himself and took a bite, a drop of pickle juice escaping down his chin. He flicked out his tongue to try to catch it. Charlotte followed every movement of his tongue with her eyes and Gregory noticed. Pink spread across the top of his cheekbones. “Good thing I changed,” he joked as he wiped his chin with a napkin.
“Yeah, good thing,” Charlotte agreed while she tried not to have further thoughts about his tongue. If Gregory in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans got her this worked up, she hoped to hell he never wore shorts in her presence. “I’m happy to know you own clothing that’s not formal.”
“It’s not like I wear slacks to bed, Charlotte.” Gregory’s neck changed colors in front of Charlotte’s eyes. “I mean, I wear clothes to bed but—”
“I’m glad to hear your PJs aren’t a tie and nothing else.” She couldn’t not pick on him as even that V of skin turned pink. It was only fair since she was now thinking about Gregory and his bed; her own skin was probably changing colors.
“Seriously, though. You’ve been at Lands what, just about a couple of months now?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ve seen how chill it is.”
“Except for Emily.”
Charlotte remembered Emily’s cashmere sweater from earlier. “Yes, except for Emily.”
Gregory grabbed another fried pickle, napkin in his other hand this time. “You’re obsessed with my attire, aren’t you? Is it because it makes me look like more of . . . how did you put it? A person who doesn’t understand fun.” His mocking smile showed Charlotte he was joking, so she did the most mature thing possible and lightly kicked him in the shin.
“Hey!” he protested.
“You deserved that!”
“Maybe.” One half of his lips retained a smile and made him appear roguish, a face Charlotte hadn’t seen on him before. She was a fan. “Anyway,” he continued, “I am a bit boring. I’ll give you that. And the suit thing started when I switched career paths to work with my family. It’s like putting on a uniform. When I wear the suit, I’m Gregory, hard worker contributing to Ever Fund and pleasing my family.”
“And when you don’t wear the suit?”
“I’m me.” He bit his lip. “Not like I’m leading a double life or anything, but it’s a different life than I envisioned. When I switched gears and joined Ever Fund, my mom had me shadow Ian, and he didn’t think I could swing it, that I could make such a hard left in plans and learn the job, much less do it well. I didn’t feel equal to him if I showed up in ‘chill’ clothes. Changing my look was a way to convince him, my mom, and myself I could do it.”
“Fake it until you make it?”
“Yeah. More or less.”
A server brought their pizzas and in order to fit their feast on the small table, Gregory and Charlotte moved their glasses at the same time and the backs of their fingers brushed against each other. A spiky current pulsed through Charlotte’s body from the touch, made all the more striking by Gregory sharing more about himself with her. They were still talking about work, basically, but this felt personal.
Unbidden, her hand drifted to his shoulder, and she lightly tugged one of his long locks, silky and light. “You kept this, though. Doesn’t scream VC to me.”
He took a bite of his pizza and made a small happy sound. “You have to try this; it’s delicious. Let’s swap a slice?”
“Definitely.” Charlotte wouldn’t tell him she’d sampled every pizza on the menu.
“And the hair. Ian said the same thing.” Gregory smirked. “So I kinda kept it long to spite him, but also, I like my hair this way and I don’t want to make that part of me fit a box, too.” He pushed that constant wayward lock behind his ear.
“So you changed career paths for Ever Fund,” Charlotte said. “What did you want to do before?”
Gregory took a long drink and looked down at the table. “Don’t laugh.”
“I won’t laugh.” Charlotte wouldn’t. Gregory’s tone was serious so no matter what he said, she wouldn’t judge.
He glanced up, the lighting making his emerald eyes dark. “I was going to be a park ranger.”
Charlotte didn’t know what she expected Gregory to say, but it wasn’t that. It did, however, explain the mountain-man persona she saw on Gregory’s Instagram. She turned the thought over in her mind, making sure her answer reflected what she thought—that it was cool as hell and that she liked how they were both park people, just different kinds of parks—but she started imagining Gregory in a uniform and how the patches would sit over his shoulders and the pants would—
“Charlotte?”
“Sorry. Uh,” she stammered. Gregory didn’t need to hear about her new favorite daydream. “I was just picturing you outdoors, like, on a hike or whatever. Why did you change course?”
He busied himself with carrying out the pizza slice swap, eyes downcast, a storm rolling in around him.
“Hey, it’s okay, Gregory. We don’t have to talk about it.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “No, it’s okay. My grandpa spent a lot of time with me when I was a kid. Ian too. While Mom and Dad were busy with Grandma at Ever Fund, Grandpa took Ian and me fishing, hiking, and camping all over the mountains and deserts in SoCal.”
The love for his grandpa wove behind Gregory’s words, loud and bright.
“I spent as much time with him as I could. Once Ian got to middle school and high school and got hung up on popularity contests and then Ever Fund—I still don’t know how he was such a nerd and had the personality of a prom king—it was just me and Grandpa. He was the only one to really support me when I took a break after high school to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. My mom and Ian both lectured me. Ian’s only four years older than me, it’s not like he knew everything. Anyway, my grandpa gave me this huge gift in nurturing this appreciation for the outdoors, so when I finally committed to college, it was to put myself in a position to be a park ranger.
“But then, he got sick. Cancer. Things progressed fast. So fast.” Gregory paused and Charlotte reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. When he didn’t withdraw, she left it there. He continued, “After he was gone, I couldn’t go on a hike without being devastated, even if it wasn’t a trail we’d ever done together. I’m not saying it was right, but I was in pain, and I boxed up that part of myself. Got rid of my plants, quit school, and turned to the family business. That was years ago. And here I am. I’ve been away from that part of myself for so long and I do like helping businesses like Lands and working with my mom, so I’ve stayed.” He shrugged and let his posture sag, as if telling Charlotte about his grandpa had taken it out of him. He gazed at the table, looking despondent.
Charlotte lifted her hand from Gregory’s, wishing it was appropriate to give him a real hug. “What was your grandpa’s name?”
“Patrick.”
“It sounds like Patrick was incredible. Thank you for sharing that with me.” Charlotte was touched to experience the softer side of Grumpy Gregory. “No pressure, but we have some gorgeous trails around here to hike.”
“Can you call it hiking when the land is flat for miles?” Gregory picked up the slice of margherita he’d taken from Charlotte, seemingly forcing himself to bounce back from the sadness of his memories.
Charlotte butted her knee into his. “Don’t hate on our lack of elevation.” She took a bite of the pesto pizza he’d shared with her. “This is good. And hey, you know I can relate to turning to the family business when my life was in fragments—not at all the same, obviously.”
“Right,” Gregory said. “But you love Lands and what you do here.”
“I do.”
“Whereas I’m doing this job because of my family and not knowing what else to do, and being too cowardly to figure it out. Not that it’s a competition over why we’re both workaholics.”
“Sounds like we could both work on doing less work.”
“That’s going to be a process,” he said, “especially with everything we have going on right now.”
“It is indeed a process. Melanie’s been a big help this last year in helping me see that work is not life, but I’m still figuring it out. All we can do is try.”
“We can.”
“I’ll get us another round so we can cheers to it,” Charlotte said. “Ooh, and you know what else, we can pick a date for that Dreamland research trip too, which I know is work-related but it’s also fun.”
“I approve,” Gregory said. “Actually, wait.”
Charlotte froze halfway off the stool and lifted his empty glass toward him. “You want something different this time?”
Gregory sat up straighter and ran his hand through his hair. It made his bicep flex and Charlotte tried to keep her attention on his face. He was looking at the table instead of her. “I was wondering if you’d like to leave and do that movie night instead.”
She sat back on her stool. Unable to keep extreme excitement out of her voice she answered, “Gregory. Are you telling me you’d like to go watch Willow right now?”
He met her eyes. “As long as you’d be into it.”
“Yes. Always. Mind going to your place? Having friends over to my basement apartment in my parents’ home is too weird.”
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
“What?” Charlotte asked. She didn’t need to defend her current living situation but she couldn’t stop herself. “It’s only temporary, don’t judge me.”
Gregory stepped off his stool and Charlotte followed suit as they walked toward the bar to close out. “It’s not that,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “Then what?”
He turned toward her, that smile still in place, forming those striking crinkles around his mouth. “You called us friends.”
Oh , Charlotte thought, she had said that. She was surprised by the casual way she’d mentioned it. “Well, yeah, we are friends, right? Maybe we’ve only been work friends, but now we’re hang out and eat pizza and watch eighties fantasy movies kind of friends.”
Gregory’s smile turned into a full grin, so bright it made Charlotte step backward and right into a bar stool. She wasn’t sure anything was as beautiful as Gregory being unabashedly happy. He reached an arm behind her to steady the stool’s wobbles and then splayed his hand on the small of her back to guide her.
“I think I’m going to like being ‘hang out outside of work’ friends, Charlotte.”
They paid their separate checks and while Charlotte was confirming his streaming situation to make sure she wouldn’t have to run home for her Willow Blu-ray, she realized she’d forgotten to bring up the faery carnival presentation. How about that? she thought. She’d had such a pleasant time getting to know Gregory better that she hadn’t thought about the very reason she went to his office.