Chapter 31
After a productive morning of clients and talking new price structures with the Park women, I feel I’ve earned myself an afternoon ride.
It rained yesterday so today is basically the perfect L.A.
day: crystal clear skies and sunshine for miles.
I grab my stuff and try and duck out but Lila spots me first. “Do you have a doctor’s appointment?
” She’s mentally going through our work calendar, trying to see if she missed something.
“Oh, no, just taking the afternoon off,” I say as I open the door.
“Huh? Why?” she asks. Matteo sidles up, sensing something mildly dramatic in the air.
I put on my sunglasses with a groan. “Can’t a bitch just leave work early one day?”
“Yes, but not this bitch,” Matteo says pointing at me.
“I know I’m a cool boss but watch it!” I say as I leave them in the dust. It’s true, I rarely ever duck out of work for any reason other than illness, and I’m sure everyone thinks I’m dying now.
I dodge texts from my family and drive home.
Between work, Daniel, and this upcoming wedding, I need to clear my head.
As soon as I get inside, I change into shorts and a tank and head to the garage.
The bike ride down the hill is invigorating and does the mental health work it needs to do. In this state, all that exists is me, the wind, the bike beneath me, and my legs moving my body through the world.
Ever since the wedding invite email a few days ago, I’ve been feeling unsettled and worried about seeing Ellis again. In that setting, surrounded by coworkers who last saw me when I was dating Ellis. And I never did send that text.
The best thing about getting older as a woman is that you truly stop caring so much about what other people think about you.
My sense of self is pretty crystalized, but it’s not invincible.
The idea of everyone thinking I’m some landscape-architect groupie picking through Watson and Associates makes me feel slightly ill.
I decide to ride to Highland Park, a neighborhood at the bottom of my hill where taco trucks bump up against tattoo parlors and fancy bagel shops.
I park my bike outside a soft-serve spot, making sure I put a lock on it (learned that lesson the hard way) and feel a blast of air-conditioning as I step into the shop.
I order a malt chocolate and vanilla twist with a heaping of rainbow sprinkles.
While I watch the teenage girl behind the counter meticulously scoop my sprinkles, a gust of cold air hits the back of my neck as someone walks in.
Before I even see him, I can feel who it is.
Ellis looks at me with sweat dripping off his brow. He’s wearing running shorts and a sweat-soaked T-shirt.
“L.A. is the smallest big town in the world,” I say weakly.
He gives me this little grimace of a smile. “It’s really too much. But also, I live around here.”
Did I know that? I try and remember if we went over where he lived in between…everything. “Oh, right.” I take my soft serve and turn to him. “Running?”
“Yeah,” he says, still catching his breath. “And then the soft serve beckoned. Also, I saw your bike.”
“Oh.” I digest that. Ellis always shows up in ways both serendipitous and intentional.
“Hey, congrats on the Gemma Flores stuff,” he says, as if he’d been meaning to tell me for ages. “Your social media is blowing up.”
He’s still following O&O? Oof. I smile through the pang. “Thanks, we’re blown away by the response.”
“It’s awesome,” he says.
I’m basking in that when I realize something. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I took a personal day. The weather was too nice to be chained to my computer.”
I go where the wind takes me. And of course the wind pushed him toward me, the one day I decide to break out of my work calendar.
“It’s really gorgeous out,” I say. And then I’m self-conscious about talking about the damn weather, as if I’ve never been naked with this man before. After he puts in his order, I ask, “Uh, would you want to sit with me outside?”
I expect him to say he has to be on his way, but obviously neither of us are going anywhere with ice cream in our hands so he says sure.
We sit outside at the table and chairs set up on the sidewalk. The sun feels good while I take cold bites of soft serve.
“How have you been?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He nods. “Good.” Monosyllabic and even. Giving away absolutely nothing.
“Great,” I say, painfully aware of how trapped we feel right now. “It’s good to see you.”
Ellis puts on his sunglasses, which feels like a self-defense move. “Yeah. Is, uh, is Mica’s arm okay?”
Right. That was the last time we saw each other. “Yes! Healed great, superstar at school. Remember how cool it was to have stitches when you were little? Or like a cast?”
“I never had them,” he says.
“What! How is that possible? You’re a”—I wave my spoon in his general vicinity—“a boy!”
Finally, he cracks a smile. “Yeah, I am a boy. But somehow I managed to avoid big injuries.”
“I’m a type A perfectionist who was raised by a billion Korean women and somehow still managed a couple broken bones and some stitches.”
His eyebrows raise. “That’s because you’re not really.”
“Not really what?” I say with a laugh.
“Type A. Perfectionist.”
It’s so matter-of-fact that I almost just accept it. But then I straighten in my seat. “Wait a second. Yes, I am.”
He crosses his arms. “You think you are. That’s what you aspire to. But deep down, you’re chaotic, too.”
Something about the way he says it gets under my skin. It’s too assured. “Literally no one has ever called me chaotic.”
He shrugs. “Okay.”
That shrug bothers me. “Every personality test in the world pegs me as type A!”
“You’re…a Gemini, correct?”
The stare is so accusing that I start cracking up. “Damn you!” There’s that smile again, his dimples popping up, and my body immediately relaxes. I know it’s selfish of me, but I want to thaw him from this cold mood. “Geminis get a bad rep, okay? We can still be organized and uptight.”
“Yeah, because you’re working against your true quixotic nature.”
It’s actually startling how right he is. But Ellis has always done that—surprised me with his perceptiveness. With his quiet observations of me and the world around him. I try to cover up my big feelings. “Wow, damn, didn’t know you were an astrologist on the side.”
He laughs and I want to keep him in a better mood forever, but I know I have to bring up something that will put him back into deep freeze.
Teenagers on skateboards, sporting jeans I used to wear in middle school, zoom by us.
It gives me a moment to brace myself to ask, “Hey, so…are you going to Max’s wedding? ”
He goes absolutely still for a second. Then, “Yeah.”
“Oh, okay. Well, the thing is…uh, Daniel asked me to go with him,” I rush it out.
“And I wanted to, I don’t know, give you a heads-up?
I meant to text you, but…” My bottom lip is being chewed to bits and I avoid looking at him.
“Anyway I was hoping to give you the option to tell me you’d rather not see me there? ”
The chair scrapes as Ellis pushes it back in agitation. “Cass, it’s really not fair of you to ask me that.”
Cass—the intimacy of it hits. “I—sorry? I’m actually trying to be fair here.”
He takes off his sunglasses and really looks at me then.
And I see that his eyes are wide, incredulous.
“Here’s the thing: I want to be okay with this.
Because I respect you and want to respect your decision not to date me and date Daniel instead.
Because I think Daniel is the best guy I know.
He’s the older brother I never had. But I just…
it’s hard, okay?” He looks down at his soft serve melting in the sun.
A bus whooshes by us, giving me a moment before I say, “I’m sorry.
” My voice is small. “But I’d like to go to the wedding because it seems to be important to Daniel.
And I just…I wanted you to know, I guess.
” It’s hard to breathe, and the air feels so thick suddenly. The sunshine a curse instead of a gift.
He gets up and throws his cup into the trash.
“I appreciate it. And hey, don’t worry about me.
This is awkward as hell, but we’re grown-ups right?
” Something about his tone makes me look at him sharply.
“See you soon, Cassia,” he says, taking off down the street.
Not looking behind him, his sneakers pounding the pavement with a vengeance.
And I don’t know if I feel better or worse.
That night, Daniel’s over at my place, both of us reading our respective books in bed.
He’s deep into a nonfiction hardcover about the bubonic plague and I’m deep into a mystery set in a British village.
But I’ve read the same paragraph a hundred times and finally I put the book down and look at Daniel. “So, this wedding.”
Through his slutty little reading glasses—“Yes?”
“Do you…do you really want me to go with you?”
He places his bookmark neatly into his book and closes it as he puts it down. “Of course. Why?”
I decide not to tell him about my Ellis run-in. “I just…I’m getting second thoughts. It feels like a potentially awkward weekend, don’t you think?”
Concern creases the corner of his eyes as he reaches out and strokes my arm. “Everyone’s an adult. They’ll just have to deal with my beautiful date.”
It’s sweet but not quite reassuring enough. “I feel kind of shitty about it all.”
He takes off his glasses then and rubs his eyes. “You know, that’s not great to hear. I don’t want our relationship to feel shitty to you.”
Guilt immediately curdles inside of me. “I don’t feel shitty about us! Just…the whole Ellis situation.”
“It’s been over a month,” he says firmly. It’s the first time he’s ever sounded annoyed with me, and I pay attention. “We can’t avoid him forever. He works for me.”
“You’re right,” I say, instantly trying to lighten the mood. I regret bringing this up. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once we’re there. It’s just…”
“A bit of nerves?” he asks, his voice back to normal Daniel levels.
I nod and he reaches over to kiss me, his hand stroking my jawline. “Let’s calm them, shall we?”