Chapter 23 - Day 5 Sad Architects
At exactly 10:00 Sunday morning, someone knocked on my door.
I looked at the clock.
Then at the door.
Then at the clock again.
10:00.
Exactly.
Huh.
Apparently Adrian Vale did know how time worked.
I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door.
Then stopped with my hand on the handle.
Yesterday, I'd told him I could drive myself.
Today, I hadn't.
I could have.
When we'd agreed to meet, I could've simply said, I'll meet you there.
I hadn't.
And I knew why.
Ten days.
That was all I had left at Vale Architecture.
Ten more days of seeing his face every morning.
Ten more days of hearing Ms. Stone when he was being Adrian Vale, and Angelica when, for a second, he wasn't.
And then-
I wouldn't see him anymore.
Not every morning.
Not across a conference table.
Not standing beside my desk looking permanently irritated with the world.
Maybe not at all.
Something in my chest went painfully hollow.
Ten days suddenly didn't feel like enough.
And maybe that was why I hadn't offered to drive myself.
I wanted the extra minutes.
With him.
I looked at the door.
Then opened it.
I opened the door.
And stopped.
Ocean blue.
Yesterday, yellow.
Today, ocean blue.
Adrian stood outside my apartment in a blue T-shirt, white pants, white sneakers, sunglasses in one hand.
His dark brown hair looked slightly less controlled than it ever did at work.
But that wasn't what I was looking at.
I looked at his shirt.
Then at him.
Then back at his shirt.
A tiny stick figure was running for its life from a goose.
I stared.
Adrian looked down at himself.
Then back at me.
"What?"
"I'm just learning a lot about you this weekend."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"It's a shirt."
"Yesterday yellow. Today a man being attacked by wildlife."
"He's not being attacked."
"He's running."
"Yes."
"From a goose."
"Yes."
"Why do you own this?"
He stared at me.
"Good morning, Angelica."
I smiled.
"Good morning, Adrian."
I stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind me.
Adrian looked at me.
And went quiet.
I waited.
His eyes moved over my white dress once.
Then back to my face.
Nothing.
Not a word.
And suddenly I was very aware that I'd spent entirely too long choosing this dress.
I'd changed twice.
I'd taken more time with my hair.
More time with my makeup.
For a twenty-minute work meeting.
Apparently.
I lifted an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"No, I'm not."
I smiled.
Interesting.
Apparently Adrian still didn't know what staring meant.
He turned toward the elevator.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
We started walking.
I glanced at his shirt again.
The tiny stick figure was still fleeing for his life.
I smiled to myself.
Sad man.
Funny shirt.
Very confusing weekend.
The black Corvette was waiting outside.
I looked at it.
Then at Adrian.
"So the Saturday car works Sundays too."
He unlocked it.
"Apparently."
"Good. I was worried there might be a third one."
"There isn't."
I stopped.
"You answered that suspiciously fast."
He opened the passenger door.
"I have two cars, Angelica."
"That's already one more than necessary."
"Get in."
I smiled and slid into the passenger seat.
A few minutes later, I looked out the window.
Then frowned.
This wasn't the direction I expected.
I looked at Adrian.
"Where are we going?"
"To review the drawing."
"I understand the activity. I'm asking about the geography."
He kept his eyes on the road.
"A café."
"There are cafés near my apartment."
"Yes."
"There are cafés approximately every twelve feet in Miami."
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"And yet we're going... where?"
"Miami Beach."
I turned fully toward him.
"Miami Beach?"
"Yes."
"For a twenty-minute drawing review?"
"Yes."
I waited.
He offered nothing else.
Of course he didn't.
The farther we drove, the more ridiculous this became.
I watched the city change outside the window.
"You know," I said, "normal people choose the closest café."
"I didn't know that was a rule."
"It isn't. It's common sense."
"This one is better."
I turned toward him.
"You've been there before?"
"Yes."
"And you specifically decided we needed to review one drawing there."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"The coffee is good."
I stared at him.
"You drink black coffee."
"Yes."
"How difficult is it to find acceptable black coffee?"
He was quiet for a second.
"More difficult than you'd think."
I laughed.
"Sad."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"What?"
"Nothing."
A few minutes later, the ocean came into view.
Bright turquoise beneath the Sunday sun.
Palm trees moved in the breeze, and beyond them the water stretched toward the horizon.
I looked out the window.
Then slowly back at Adrian.
All this-
for a drawing.
Sure.
The café sat almost directly beside the beach.
I stopped for a second.
The ocean stretched out in front of us, turquoise beneath the sunlight, waves breaking softly against the shore.
The breeze caught my dress.
Then my hair.
I pushed it away from my face.
Adrian looked at me.
Then immediately looked toward the café.
Interesting.
We found a table outside.
Of course we did.
Because apparently if you were going to review a drawing on a Sunday, you needed an ocean view.
I sat across from him.
Adrian placed the folder on the table.
I looked at it.
Then at the ocean.
Then at him.
"Very professional."
"What?"
"The setting."
He glanced toward the water.
"It's a café."
"On Miami Beach."
"Yes."
"On Sunday."
"Yes."
"To work."
"Architects work Sundays."
I stared at him.
"Sad architects."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"What?"
"Sad architects work Sundays."
He stared at me for a second.
Then shook his head and opened the folder.
I smiled.
A server came over with two menus.
Adrian barely looked at his.
I did.
Because unlike some people, I respected food.
The drawing sat between us, temporarily forgotten.
"What are you getting?" I asked.
"Croissant."
I looked up.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
I looked back at the menu.
"Sad."
"What?"
"Nothing."
The server returned a few minutes later.
"Ready to order?"
"Croissant," Adrian said.
I closed my menu.
"I'll have the tiramisu. And the brownie."
The server finished writing.
"And something to drink?"
I opened my mouth.
Adrian answered first.
"Black coffee for me. And a large hot latte for her. Whole milk, two shots of espresso, two pumps vanilla, one pump caramel, one sugar, light foam, extra hot, whipped cream-but not too much-and cocoa powder on top."
The server wrote it down.
I looked at Adrian.
He didn't even look at me.
He just closed his menu.
Like that ridiculous order belonged somewhere in his head.
Like knowing it was normal now.
Yesterday, hearing him say it had surprised me.
Today, it hurt.
Because in ten days, I could order this exact coffee somewhere else.
I could sit at another desk.
Work for another company.
Have another boss.
But nobody there would know that I wanted two pumps of vanilla and one pump of caramel.
Nobody would know I hated too much whipped cream.
Nobody would know without asking.
Adrian did.
I looked down at the table.
God.
Leaving was supposed to be the easy part.
I was still looking at the table when Adrian spoke.
"What happened?"
I looked up.
He was watching me now, his expression quieter than it had been a moment ago.
"What?"
"You disappeared."
"I'm sitting right here."
"You know what I mean."
I did.
I looked toward the ocean.
"Nothing."
"Angelica."
"Nothing happened."
He watched me for another second.
I could feel it even without looking at him.
Then, quietly-
"Okay."
He didn't push.
Somehow, that made it worse.
A few minutes later, our drinks arrived.
Then the food.
Adrian's croissant looked exactly like something Adrian would order.
Simple.
Neat.
Boring.
Mine looked considerably better.
I took a bite of the brownie.
Adrian opened the folder between us.
"Okay."
I looked at him.
"Okay what?"
"The drawing."
I looked down at my brownie.
Then at the tiramisu.
Then at him.
"Can I eat first?"
"You can eat while looking at a drawing."
"That sounds stressful."
"It's a drawing."
"It's Sunday."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
I smiled and took another bite.
He looked down at the folder.
Then at my brownie.
And said, almost absently-
"My daughter likes brownies."
I stopped chewing.
For a second, I thought I'd heard him wrong.
"Your daughter?"
"Elena."
I knew her name.
But hearing him say it to me felt different.
He had never brought his children up to me before.
I'd found out they existed because they'd walked into an ice cream shop.
Everything else I'd learned about his family had come from someone else.
But this-
This he'd given me himself.
I looked at the brownie.
Then at him.
"Your daughter is cute."
Something softened in his face.
"She is."
Just two words.
But the way he said them made me smile.
I took another bite of the brownie.
"So she has good taste."
Adrian looked at me.
"In brownies?"
"Obviously."
"That's a very specific standard."
"It's an important one."
He gave me a look, then finally turned the folder toward me.
"Can we work now?"
I sighed dramatically.
"If we must."
"We must."
I leaned closer.
The revised Solara drawing was spread between us.
For the next twenty minutes, we actually worked.
Mostly.
We went through the fa?ade revisions, checked the dimensions we'd changed yesterday, and argued over one detail for approximately three minutes before settling on something neither of us had originally suggested.
I sat back.
"There."
Adrian looked over the drawing once more.
"Done."
I checked the time.
That was it.
The entire reason we'd driven all the way to Miami Beach on a Sunday was finished.
I looked at the folder.
Then at the ocean.
Then at Adrian.
He closed the folder.
Neither of us moved.
For a while, neither of us said anything.
The breeze moved through the umbrellas above us.