Chapter 11 - Luke #2
“Is that so bad?”
“No. Thomas seems like a nice guy,” I said, recalling our conversation this morning and the not-so-subtle threat, “but he probably would’ve helped anyway if you asked.”
She hummed quietly and sighed, leaving me to guess her thoughts.
“So, you said you’d tell me more about your friends,” she changed the subject.
I was about to answer when the doorbell rang.
Hazel was startled, unexpectedly losing her balance, and my hand jumped to her hip to steady her.
Her palms gripped mine, and her breath hitched.
It was a full second after she lost her balance, as if she was more surprised by my hands than the potential fall.
“Just in time,” I said, earning a confused look.
“I ordered more food for us,” I said, letting her go, and went to get the food from the delivery guy.
Hazel pulled a fluffy rug from one of the boxes and laid it out. She patted the spot next to me, and we settled onto it.
“Hope you love sushi. You’re not a vegetarian, right? I didn’t ask,” I said.
“No, I love sushi, just don’t do wasabi or that pickled ginger thing,” she grimaced.
I laughed and took them off her plate. “Great, double for me.”
“Okay, so about the trip. Logan, as you may have guessed from his suit and his flawless behavior, works in the Legal department. You know the guy in college who was the biggest party person, but always got straight A’s and never missed a class or something?”
She nodded.
“Well, that’s Logan. He’s the one who reminds us of the things we’re not allowed to do in other countries.”
Hazel tilted her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “So... he’s the guy making sure no one tries to flirt with the queen while tipsy?”
I froze, my stomach twisting.
“I can’t believe Alex told you that,” I groaned, running a hand through my hair.
Hazel leaned back, still grinning, and gave me a teasing look. “I mean, that’s... impressive. And kind of hilarious.”
“Well, anyway, yeah. Logan takes his profession very seriously. He can defend our rights even when he parties,” I continued.
“His wife, Norah, is a designer at an architecture firm, so you can always ask her about any ‘I want to have this big tennis table but I don’t have the space’ kind of things. ”
“Is that what happened to you? No room for extra-curricular activities?” she asked, stuffing her mouth with sushi, a loose strand of hair falling down her cheek.
“That is of no importance to you. Don’t interrupt me while I’m in the middle of the story.” She laughed at my attempt to avoid the question.
“Then we have Alex, whom I’ve known since college.
We partied together, ate cheap noodles together.
He’s my brother from another, however mentally functioning mother.
He’s in Marketing. His girlfriend Ava is a chef, and she’s always trying to feed us new foods.
Very loud and cool, but don’t you ever ask her to make peasant food, like, for example, a grilled cheese sandwich.
She will banish you from the group forever. ”
“Of course, of course. Noted. I’m a Fillet Mignon and Lemon Soufflé girl myself. Continue.”
“And then we have Ethan, who works in Sales with me. He’s the most positive in our group. A very happy person. He’s the kind of guy who’s happy for the rain because, and I quote, ‘the trees will finally have something to drink’.”
“Well, he sounds the most sane one so far.”
“He’s married to Summer, a music teacher. They’re all great and I love them to death, but they involve themselves too much in my dating life, trying to find me a match. It’s just not me.” The air grew heavier, and the conversation felt more serious.
“So I’ve heard.”
The setting sun shone through the windows, landing on the wall, which caught Hazel’s attention. She admired the colors on the wall and then looked at me with wondering eyes.
“So what about you? Since you’re taking me as a guest there, I should probably learn something about you, too.”
“There’s not too much to know. I studied Business at Columbia University with Alex.
I work in Sales and I’m damn good at it.
I wear a suit to work because I actually like it.
I love boxing, and I party from time to time.
” Hazel laughed loudly at the last part, trying to chew through a mouthful of rice.
“I have two parents who can’t stand each other but refuse to divorce. No siblings, so my chosen family is my real family.”
She quickly composed herself. “That must’ve been lonely. To be all by yourself.”
I noticed the slight crease of concentration between her brows, the way the light hit her cheek just right. She carried a careful calm that made the rest of the world feel a little steadier. And from all the things I just said to her...
“It wasn’t ideal, but there was no abuse or anything. I was just a normal kid,” I replied, remembering all those weird moments when nothing truly bad happened, but rarely was anyone genuinely happy.
She nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly, and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
“What about you?” I asked, standing up and walking to the fridge for a drink.
“I’m 25. Like I said, I’m an English major. Brown University.”
Wow. That’s impressive.
“My best friend in the world is Mady. She’s engaged, and I’m the maid of honor. I love reading, as you may have guessed, and I always change my answer when someone asks my favorite season.” I smirked at her playful honesty, enjoying these small glimpses into her life.
“What about your parents?” I asked.
“Well, my dad, James, lives in San Francisco. He has his own business and—”
“Wait, what? Your dad is James Ridley? THE James Ridley? From RidleyHoldings? I read an interview with him the other day in the Wall Street Journal.”
“That’s the one.” Hazel’s voice grew quiet. “We’re not close, so don’t expect any introductions,” she joked, though her eyes carried sadness.
“No, I don’t mean it like that, I’m just surprised, that’s all. And your mom?”
Her smile softened, tinged with sentiment.
“My mom, Anne, was a professor at Juilliard. She passed away some time ago.”
I paused, the bottle halfway to my lips, as her words sank in.
For a moment, the room felt smaller, quieter, as though everything else had stepped aside to let her grief take up space.
I saw it clearly now—the quiet, lingering sadness I’d noticed the other day.
Hazel had parents, yet didn’t. She was parentless in a way.
Like me. It was a terrible comparison, I knew, because mine were alive.
Many would give anything for that, but it didn’t change how I felt most of my life.
I crossed the room, the floor creaking beneath me.
She didn’t look up right away, just let her fingers trace the rim of her glass in slow, absent circles.
“I’m sorry, Hazel.” Words felt clumsy. I let the stillness settle between us like an understanding neither of us needed to explain.
“It’s okay. I really loved her, and she loved me.
That is the best I can ask, right?” She raised her eyes, and somehow I didn’t see her pain.
I saw a quiet strength, like losing her mother hadn’t broken her but somehow made her stand taller.
There was a kind of peace in her expression, the kind that only comes when nothing important is left unsaid.
“She was this amazing woman,” Hazel continued softly, “happy and energetic, always cheerful and smiling. She had this joie de vivre—”
“Joy of living.” We spoke the words at the same time, and she smiled faintly.
“Yes.” Her gaze met mine, telling me what her words couldn’t fully capture.
“I had something most people spend their whole lives chasing,” she said. “I’ve only gained by knowing her. There’s no reason to be sad for me.”
I watched her, mesmerized. She loved life and didn’t take anything for granted, even though she may have deserved more.
“She made me fall in love with nature and trees, and we used to go hiking all the time. She told me that she wanted to name me after something that would remind her of me every time she went into the woods, but all she could think of were just tiny, delicate flowers. In the end, she named me Hazel because she wanted me to be like a strong tree that could withstand any storm in my way. She used to call me Hazelnut,” Hazel grinned, lost in the memory.
“...which is funny because she had a nut allergy.” She laughed, and I smiled.
Hazel. I repeated the name in my head slowly, savoring each syllable. Evening shadows danced across her face, highlighting her features.
“Well, that’s me.” She tucked a strand behind her ear. “Can I ask you something?” Hazel snapped back to the present.
“You can ask anything you want, Ms. Ridley.” She shot me a playful look at me, emphasizing her last name.
“That book you gave me—it’s not something you’d find browsing modern bookstores. Where did you get it?” She stared straight into my eyes, clearly trying to intimidate me into telling the truth. Funny.
“It belonged to my father. He’s kind of a big reader himself, but I don’t think he appreciates its true value. Just another find to him.”
“Won’t he be mad?”
“I traded it for a favor.” Specifically, calling my mother to mediate one of their arguments.
She gave me a suspicious look.
“As I said, he doesn’t appreciate it...” Hazel pulled the book from the box beside her, ran her fingers over the spine, and opened it, her eyes scanning the worn pages. My gaze, however, lingered on her graceful jawline. “...enough.”
She shifted on the floor, and a stupid little hole near the knee of her sweatpants flashed a bit of skin, a faint bruise only making it more unfairly distracting.
“It really is beautiful,” she murmured.
My pocket buzzed. I pulled out my phone to see a message from Vanessa.
Wanna hang out tonight? A peach emoji at the end. Ugh. I knew what hanging out meant.
I glanced at Hazel, still engrossed in the book, soaking up every detail like Austen had left her a secret message. I typed back.
Not tonight. Let’s meet when I’m back.
“Okay, another question.” I put the phone down, giving her my full attention.
“Shoot.”
“How much for the dinner?” She gestured toward the empty containers.
“It’ll cost you,” I paused, “one book.”
“What?”
“Lend me any book from your massive collection. Your pick.”
She looked at me as if I’d lost it, but then her expression softened. Hazel stood up from the rug that had clearly seen better days, walked over to the bookcase, and carefully examined each row.
“Are you more of a romance guy or mystery kind of man? Ah, don’t answer that,” she scoffed before I could answer.
“I’m not big on romance,” I said. She huffed quietly, but I caught it. “Pick something you think I should read.”
The focus on her face intrigued me. She stopped and smiled to herself.
“Okay,” she said, “this is one of my favorites—Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver. Long story short, it’s about a girl who relives the same day over and over again, but each time she wakes up, it feels like a new story.
It has everything you want—love, hate, death, friendship, family, time, ethics, choices, existential crisis, you name it. ”
“Sounds... interesting.” Just like you, Hazel.
She handed me the book, and I flipped through the pages quickly, noticing a few highlighted sentences but deciding not to spoil it for myself. I’d let it surprise me.
We talked for about half an hour until she checked her watch. “Oh damn, it’s late already.” A slight disappointment colored my heart, but I ignored it. I wasn’t the type to miss a woman. I took it as my cue to leave.
“Yes, of course, I’ll let you pack for tomorrow.” I grabbed my jacket and headed to the door.
“Thanks again for helping me. I appreciate it,” she said, her gaze lowering as she offered a warm smile.
“Thanks for all the info on publishing.”
She smiled, crossing her arms. “Glad I could help.”
“Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow on my way to the airport?”
“It’s fine. Mady offered to take me. Thanks.”
“Then see you tomorrow at the airport.”
“Sure. Are your friends gonna gang up on me? Wait for me at the gate and talk about me before I arrive?” she laughed nervously.
“Not if you arrive first.” I winked and walked backwards down the hall.
She laughed and closed the door. I lingered for the faint click of the lock, then turned and headed downstairs.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Another message from Vanessa.
You sure?
I paused at the bottom step, thumb hovering for a moment before I typed back.
Yeah. I’m sure.