Pop is sitting at the dining room table, reading a newspaper. Mom bought him an ereader but he still likes to hold a physical paper in his hands. Earlier when I came in, he gave me a kiss and asked how work was going. It was unexpected since it’s been a long time since he’s remembered anything about my job. Then we played a few hands of his favorite card game, Durak.
He beat me every time, as usual.
When he hears me approach, he lifts his head and smiles. “There you are. Dinner must be ready.”
“Almost but I can’t stay. I wanted to say goodbye before I left.” I lean over and kiss his cheek.
He reaches up for my hand and then squeezes several times. It’s something he used to do when I was a little girl. At church when I was bored and fidgeting, three squeezes. When my best friend in middle school suddenly didn’t want to be my friend anymore because she got a boyfriend, five squeezes. When I graduated from high school with a 4.0 GPA, more squeezes than I could count.
“I understand. You don’t want to stay here with the old folks. I guess that means your mother gets me all to herself.” He laughs at his own joke.
My heart lifts seeing him in such a good mood. So much of our interaction recently has been about what’s wrong. Doctors, diagnoses and all the things he can no longer do. Today we could just live. For just a little while, we have him back
“I’ll come back in a few days. We can play cards again.”
Just when I reach the door, I hear him call my name. When I look over my shoulder, Pop gives me a stern look.
“Don’t forget your curfew is ten o’clock, young lady.”
My heart sinks but I manage to keep the smile on my face. My mom gives me a knowing look from the doorway to the kitchen.
Every minute counts.
Every. Single. Minute.
“Of course. I love you, Pop.”
“Love you, too.”
His eyes go back to his newspaper and I leave, ignoring the heavy feeling in my chest.
When I pull into the parking garage at the Mirage offices, I take a deep breath. Law’s car is still parked in his assigned space. On the drive, I’d convinced myself he wouldn’t be here and the conversation could wait until tomorrow. Now there’s no excuse.
I take the elevator up and then step into the empty reception area. There are still a few other people here because I can hear someone talking in the distance and then the distinct sound of the microwave beeping in the break room.
?
?Hey, Anya.” Milo pauses in the doorway to his office. “Didn’t I see you leave earlier?”
I flash a smile as I walk by. “I can’t stay away!”
Law’s office door is partially open so I poke my head in. I don’t want to disturb him if he’s in a meeting.
All I see is the back of a woman’s blond head as she kisses him. Even though I can’t see her face, my memory supplies the visual of gray eyes, freckles and an annoyingly perfect nose. I’d recognize Law’s ex-wife anywhere after how many times I’ve google-stalked her.
There’s nothing more I need to see here.
As I walk back down the hall, I keep my head down so no one will see the tears on my cheeks. I hit the button for the elevator and luckily it opens immediately. As the doors close, I pull out my phone.
ANYA: I would love to have dinner. I’m starving.
SETH: We can do Les Printemps if it’s not too pretentious for you.
ANYA: That’s perfect. I’ll meet you there.
When the elevator opens on the parking level, I stride to my car, purpose in my steps. Fine dining with a handsome billionaire shouldn’t feel like a consolation prize.
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