“Can we get a box to go?” I ask Lola as she walks by.
“Sure. Be right back,” she says.
I turn back to my mother. “You’re taking that salad to go. Make sure you eat it.”
She laughs.
“I’m not kidding,” I say, taking out my credit card and exchanging it for the to-go container when Lola returns. “And if you get lonely—”
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to Coy’s house next to break the news to him.”
“Want me to go with you? I can clear my schedule—”
“Absolutely not.” She exhales. A hint of the burden she feels is evident, and it hurts my heart. “You go on about your day. And please don’t mention anything to Holt, Wade, or Boone. I want to be the one to tell them.”
I nod. It’ll be hard not to talk about it to anyone—Holt, especially—but I need to let my mother handle this.
She takes her napkin off her lap and places it on the table. “I’m a terrible mother. I didn’t even ask you about what was bothering you today.”
I take my card from Lola and scribble a tip. “You did ask me. I didn’t answer you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I leave the receipt under my plate and put my card back in my wallet.
Do I want to talk about it?
I contemplate what I’d say if we did talk about it. That I met a girl who now works for me, and I kissed her last night—which probably was a mistake, but it really doesn’t feel that way.
As I look up at my mom and consider telling her that, I know she’d listen. I know she’d give me advice. But there’s no way in hell I could bring this up when she just unloaded her separation on me.
“It was just Boone making me crazy,” I say, scooting my chair back and standing. “Just another workday at the office.”
She doesn’t believe me, but she gives me her hand and lets me help her up anyway.
We make our way through the dining room and across the parking lot, then stop under the warm afternoon sun next to Mom’s car.
“Sometimes you have to go with your gut, Oliver,” she says, patting my arm. “Remember that.”
Before I can say anything—before I can ask her why that feels like intentional words of wisdom—she climbs inside her Mercedes and waves. Then she drives off.
I pivot and head to my car, my brain swollen with so many things to think about. As I hit the unlock button, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Shaye: Legal sent a report about Jewell. Marked urgent. Uploaded to file.
I stop next to my car.
Me: I’ll be there soon.
I wait for a response but don’t get one. But that’s fine. Some things are better off done in person, anyway.
Sixteen
Shaye
“He kissed you!?” Lisbeth’s voice is so loud that I have to tug the phone away from my ear. “Why didn’t you call me last night? Do you even love me?”
“Are you done?” I ask, shaking my head.
“No. No, I’m not. I gave you plenty of space last night, and you held back.” She huffs. “This is not best friend behavior. Just so you know.”
“So go be besties with Lydia,” I tease.
“Yeah, hard no.”
I fold the baggie that my now-eaten turkey sandwich was in and return it to my lunchbox. The sun is shining brightly, even for late afternoon, and the heat of the rays inside my car make me feel like I’m starting to boil.
“I was going to call you back last night,” I tell her. “But I really needed a little time to try to wrap my head around things.”
“You mean, around the fact that your boss kissed you.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. That.”
“Well, I, for one, think it’s great.”
I pull my sunglasses over my eyes and crank up the air-conditioning.
Of course, Lisbeth thinks it’s great. I knew she would. That’s precisely why I didn’t call her before now—because I’m not sure it’s great.
The kiss was great. There’s no denying that.
My face heats, and it has nothing to do with the sun.
“What did he say about it?” she asks, excitement dripping from every syllable.
“I’m not sorry. I’ve wanted to do that since the day I met you.”
A chill wiggles through me as his words filter through my mind. I’ve thought about them a hundred times since then, wondered if his sentiments would change once I drove away. Because that’s how things work sometimes. You think something is a great idea until you’re removed from the situation.
Then reality hits.
I brace myself against the seat. “He said he’s wanted to kiss me since the day we met.”
Lisbeth squeals. “Okay, that’s good. I—”
“I don’t know if it is good, Lis.” I sigh, my head falling against the headrest. “I think I’d feel very differently about it if he were someone else. Well, I mean if he were him but just not … him.”