Chapter 5
I have to adjust my eyes to the sun when we step outside onto the pristine streets of Beverly Hills. When Halmoni had first told me where the new offices would be located, I had recoiled. We were not Westside people. And Beverly Hills, of all places?
But then Halmoni had said, “Do you remember that car accident we got into when you were five?”
I did. Halmoni had accidentally put the car in drive instead of reverse when we were pulling out of a parking spot in front of a building. We had crashed through the lush hedges and barely avoided smashing through the entire building.
The people inside, white people wearing suits, had run out and yelled at Halmoni, whose English then wasn’t as great as it is now.
She had apologized profusely until she could feel their shock turn into contempt for us and our beat-up old Toyota.
Then she had gone deadly silent and put me back in the car.
We ran over the hedge one more time, sending people scattering, and then drove home.
That building is the building our offices are in now.
It was Halmoni’s “Big mistake, big, huge,” Julia Roberts moment. It’s important to know that this level of petty runs through my blood.
Ellis and I walk out of the gate onto the sidewalk. “So sorry about that,” I say, closing it behind us, squinting in the harsh light.
He takes a wide step to the left and suddenly I’m not squinting. “No need to be sorry at all. I’m half Chinese, I get it.”
Did he step to block the sun for me? “Half? What’s the other half, if you don’t mind me asking?” I’m distracted when I ask.
“Jewish.” Quick pop of dimples before he says, “So, yes, I happened to reach out to your riding group online because I wanted to make sure you were okay? I hope you don’t mind that one of them told me you worked here.
I couldn’t find you online, otherwise I would have just messaged you like a normal person. Ha, ha.”
This kid. I pull on my sunglasses. “Totally fine. I believe you. You did help me when you could have killed me instead.”
He swallows a guffaw of laughter. “Yeah, murder.”
“You’d be surprised at how top of mind murder is for women.” I realize we’re just standing on the sidewalk and start walking briskly. “Want to grab a cup of coffee? My treat, obviously.”
“Sure,” he says, taking big steps to catch up with me. “So, you look like you can walk okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I just had a mild concussion, and I need to wear this.” I hold up my right wrist, showing off the ACE bandage wrapped around it.
He winces. “Oh, no. I hope you don’t need your wrist for work.”
I throw a sidelong glance at him as we reach the corner and stop for traffic. “The very cushy office job isn’t in danger, no.”
“Matchmaking, huh?” Ellis does this little thing then. He steps to my other side—which is the side close to traffic. It nudges me away from the street.
I’m so distracted by that little chivalrous maneuver that I don’t respond to him right away. The light turns green and we start crossing, passing by a woman in athleisure and a fur coat. “Yeah. Been in the family for decades, well, centuries really.”
“That’s so cool. I’ve never heard of that being a family business before. It feels like…like, folklore.”
I look at him when we reach the other side of the street. The wonder in his voice makes me look at him carefully. “How old are you?”
His expression shifts into wariness. “Why?”
“I need to place you in history.”
He laughs. “Wow. Never heard it phrased that way.”
“Do you want to know how old I am?”
His eyes drop down briefly, his body instantly uncomfortable. Then he looks up. “I wasn’t particularly curious.”
I laugh as I lead us toward a side street that is quieter, with less foot traffic. “That’s only something a young person would say.”
There’s an entrance to a small café tucked into an ivy-covered brick wall. We enter when he finally says, “I’m twenty-eight.”
I almost snap my neck looking up at him. He grins. “Too old for you?”
This guy. “I have no age limits on friends.” Keep it breezy, Cass.
The smile stays on his face, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Oh, good. Good to know. I’ll bring my three-year-old nephew around for the next wine night.
” I laugh, feeling a familiar lightness float through me.
Crush lightness. Oh boy. But I have to admit, it’s the lightest I’ve felt all week—a particularly heavy week.
We’re seated at a bistro table out in the brick-paved alley, tucked behind potted olive trees and shaded by a yellow-and-white striped umbrella. I order an iced latte, and he gets a black coffee and about eight different pastries. When they arrive, they’re spread out in front of us like a buffet.
“Are you secretly a coffee-shop-pastry critic?” I ask, taking a sip of my creamy ice-cold drink.
He breaks off a piece of cheese-filled Danish and holds it to me questioningly. I take it even though I’ve already had breakfast and I’m pretty disciplined about snacks and sugar and all that as I get older. But there’s something about him. I can’t say no, and that lightness guides me.
“I just like sampling things,” he says. This sends a zing straight into my belly.
“Are you actually able to eat all this?”
He nods. “Probably. But I won’t, I’ll save some for later.”
“Well, you’re a growing boy, after all. Need those calories.”
He shakes his head and laughs while taking off his deep-blue chore coat.
He’s wearing a light blue T-shirt underneath, worn thin and fitting him like a freaking dream.
There’s that glimpse of his silver necklace again.
I resist reaching out and touching it. His long, tanned forearms brace the table as he leans forward.
“So, how do you like biking with that group?” Ellis asks.
“I love it.” I can feel myself light up as I say it.
“I only started doing it a few years ago. I’ve never been very athletic or particularly outdoorsy, so I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
It was just…” My gaze shifts to a spot behind Ellis, my mind wandering.
“It was like finding this other part of myself that was lying dormant for four decades, you know?”
Shit. Cat’s out of the bag.
Ellis doesn’t bat an eye. “That’s incredible. I haven’t had that in my life yet.”
I wink. “Just give it another fifteen years, sonny.”
He sits back. “Okay, enough. So, you’re what—forty?”
“How dare you. I’m thirty-nine.”
“Thirty-nine. What’s the big deal?”
“When you turn thirty-nine, come back and tell me.”
“I will.” His voice is even, and his gaze is serious. It’s pretty hot and I bet people fall over themselves when confronted with this face.
“Ellis, what’s going on?” I ask, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “This feels like more than a casual check-in on an injured biker you saved.”
His high cheekbones turn slightly flushed and he takes a sip of his coffee. Then he levels his gaze back on me. “Yeah, well, um, I’d like to hang out.”
“We are hanging out.” Is this how the youth describe fucking? Hanging out?
“This doesn’t…I mean, it’s nice. But, like, I’d like to take you out. On a date.”
I take a sip of my drink to give myself a beat. “I’m really…you seem great. But—”
“But I’m too young?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, laughing a little. “Eleven! Years!”
“But we’re both adults. Who cares? I feel like millennials are kind of obsessed with aging.” He says this with a raised brow. He is challenging me. I can’t even be mad. Somehow everything this guy does is just kind of, fucking endearing.
“We are. Because we’re the first people in the history of humans to age, didn’t you know?” I’m about to reach for a croissant when he intercepts me and hands it to me. I take it. “Stop being so damn considerate.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Even that’s cute. Stop.” I busy myself with making sure I don’t get croissant crumbs all over myself. “I’m turning forty this week.”
He drops his pretzel roll dramatically. “It’s your birthday this week?”
“Yup.”
“What are your plans for the big day?”
There’s no reason to go into my birthday angst and grief with Ellis.
This sweet cinnamon bun of a guy. No need for him to know that I usually leave town on my birthday, just me and a playlist from 2001 blasting in my car as I drive to some random California destination in the vain pursuit of peace.
Of a moment of enlightenment—still waiting to be okay with my mother dying on my birthday when I was a child.
“Not sure yet,” I say breezily. “I’ll probably head out of town.”
“Ooh, where?”
“You are a very curious person.” I try the lemon scone next.
“I’m curious about you.”
The scone threatens to choke me when I swallow. “Well, not sure yet. I usually plan my birthday trip really last-minute. The only time in my life I do anything last-minute, honestly.”
He leans closer. “You do this every year?”
“Yeah.”
“Fun tradition. Do you go alone? Or with, like…a boyfriend? Girlfriend.” He does that kind of crooked, hot-guy smile—another challenge.
I look at his eyes—dark brown with a hint of amber. Thick lashes, a dusting of freckles on his very nice nose. And without being aware of what I’m doing, I look down at his mouth. He’s absentmindedly biting down on his bottom lip. There’s a little scar between his upper lip and his nose.
Shit. I’m doing it. I stop myself from reading his face. I never do it with men I date. I never do it with anyone who doesn’t give me explicit permission, in fact. It’s a code that we have.
“I go alone. Sans boyfriend and girlfriend because I don’t have one. Which Mar so obviously pointed out to you.”
The check arrives before he can respond, and I reach for it—but he grabs it before I can. “No, no way. This is for saving my life,” I say.
He scoffs. “I didn’t save your life. I called nine-one-one a minute before your friend would have.”
“You helped me,” I say sincerely. “You kept me calm. I really appreciated it.”