Chapter 3 Kale for the Clown
THREE
Kale for the Clown
April
Killian had barely vanished into the elevator when Arthur shifted, positioning himself squarely between April and where Chad was attempting a losing game of Where’s Waldo behind a potted palm.
April huffed a laugh and finally answered her phone. Forty-three unread messages. Most from coworkers. Five from Laura.
Laura: Okay. New attempt.
Laura: What happened: (one sentence)
Laura: Where are you: (building/floor)
Laura: What do you need: (ride / food / alibi / murder)
Laura: (not murder)
April: I did something insane
April: i need... idk
Laura: Great. Crystal clear. Love this for us.
Laura: Is this "insane" legally actionable or emotionally actionable?
April: both??
April: kind of???
Laura: I’m going to need you to use your words like an adult human woman with a college degree.
Laura: What. Happened.
April: i might be engaged
Three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared, and stayed for a full thirty seconds.
Laura: I’m sorry.
Laura: I think my phone autocorrected something.
Laura: Because it LOOKS like you just said you’re ENGAGED.
Laura: To the man you were crying about an hour ago.
Laura: Which is INSANE.
Laura: Please clarify.
April: not to chad
April: to killian
Laura: KILLIAN BLACKWOOD?!?!
Laura: YOUR CEO?!?!
Laura: APRIL MARIE FEULLER.
Garlic, rosemary, and expensive butter drifted through the office. The glass doors slid open, and Mateo Rossi swaggered in, trailed by four servers bearing silver trays.
April: it's fake
April: probably
April: gotta go lunch is here
Laura: “PROBABLY”?!?!
Laura: DO NOT HANG UP ON ME.
Laura: APRIL.
She silenced her phone.
Mateo looked less like a chef and more like a rockstar: sleeves rolled, forearms dusted with flour and old burn scars, a smirk that suggested he knew exactly what you’d eaten for breakfast and quietly judged you for it.
"Congratulations are in order, I hear!" Mateo boomed, scanning the room once before zeroing in on April.
She moved toward him without thinking, and when he opened his arms, she walked straight into them. Her head hit his chest, and for the first time since the supply closet, she stopped bracing and just let herself be held.
His voice dropped so only she could here, "Killian called, I dropped everything. I'm sorry, cara."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, hands settling on her shoulders.
"I'm here to feed you better. Put a smile back on that face."
"Can we feed Chad something awful?"
"He will eat grass."
April's mouth twitched. "Good."
His hands slid from her shoulders, but he stayed close, voice warming. "And now that you're single, I can finally do more than flirt across a dining table."
“What do you mean?"
"A private tasting. Tonight. 8:00 p.m. My kitchen." He leaned in, and this time his voice was all intention. "I've wanted to ask you out for two years, but you were taken. Now I get a chance to feed you properly."
April, prepared to tell him it was too soon, that she wasn’t ready, that she still saw on his desk behind her eyes—
Chad clapped Mateo on the shoulder. "Mateo! Great to see you, man. I'm starving. What've you got for the VP?" interrupting her conversation like she was something you could just talk over on your way to the lobster.
April looked at him, nose scrunched. She turned back to Mateo.
"I'll be there."
Mateo's grin widened. "Petty suits you."
Then he turned, his expression cooling as he looked Chad up and down like a hair found in soup.
"Ah, Chad, I haven't forgotten you. I prepared something specific. Based on your recent activities."
He snapped his fingers. A server stepped forward with a flimsy cardboard box. Mateo took it and handed it to Chad with a flourish.
"Four naked cucumber coins. Plain kale. One hard-boiled egg with the shell still on. No fork. A lemon wedge for optimism." Then he gestured to the bottle beside it: room-temperature water labeled ARTISANAL in Sharpie.
“Since you’ve spent the morning being messy, I thought you might enjoy a cleanse.”
“Wait, where’s the steak?” Chad peeked into the box. “Is this a joke?”
“Same place as your cake,” Mateo said. “You already had it this morning. You don’t get to eat it too.”
Chad took a step toward her, “April.”
Arthur shifted forward; April caught his eye and gave the smallest shake of her head. I have this. He settled back without looking away from Chad.
She looked at Chad—polite and blank, the way you acknowledge someone who’s said your name and nothing else.
“Come on. This is—” He hesitated. Glanced around the office, at Mateo, then back to her. “Just… talk to him. Please. Whatever’s going on, don’t—Don’t let this turn into a thing.”
He gestured helplessly at the kale box, like it was Exhibit A. “Just—tell him I need real food.”
April blinked at him. Tilted her head. ‘Turn what into a thing?’
Chad’s face tightened. He looked at her like someone who’d already inserted money into a vending machine, confused why it wasn’t dispensing.
He'd pressed B7.
Unfortunately for him, this machine stopped working when it caught him in Brenda.
April glanced at the kale box, then back to Chad.
“Mateo brought lunch. That’s… nice. And you’re always saying you want to eat healthier. The kale is a great start.” Then she turned away. Not dramatically—just… away.
Brenda was already at Chad's side, sliding in like she belonged there. Her hand found his upper arm.
He shrugged her off, not looking at her. “I need—” He stopped, swallowed. “I need April.”
Brenda’s hand hovered, then dropped. Her face did something quick and ugly.
April was already halfway across the room, heading toward a server she recognized, her voice warming into the version of herself that cared. “Oh Simone! You’re on catering now?” She cleared a stack of file folders from the nearest table. “Here, let me get this out of your way.”
Simone smiled, relieved. “Thanks, April. Yeah, I switched from events last month.”
“That’s great.”
Behind her, Chad stood with his kale box, unspeaking and already forgotten.
Mateo watched her help Simone, his mouth tipping at one corner. Then he leaned in, his breath stirring her hair.
"Remember. Eight o'clock."