Page 30 of Yours Temporarily

“Sonya is just like my mom.”

“Controlling?” Zuri probes, catching me off guard and eliciting a laugh.

“I hadn’t seen it that way when we were together, but looking back four years after we split, it’s clear now.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Our families are close.” My gaze fixes on the candle between us, its light flickering uncertainty. “My mom always envisioned us together. We were engaged for one year and had plans for a wedding.…”

The story emerges, revealing a chapter of my life I rarely unpack.

“Why would she elope when she was engaged to you?” Zuri’s voice rises over the music.

Is there perhaps a hint of protectiveness within her shock? Thinking so prompts me to delve into the painful recount of betrayal.

“One day, she’s detailing her dream wedding that she spent an entire year planning with her mom, then the next day, six months before the supposed wedding day, she elopes.”

And my mother was the bearer of such unexpected news.

“That’s brutal.” Zuri’s hands cup her face, her palpable empathy heartwarming. This gesture, simple yet profound, tightens something within me, leaving me grateful yet aching over her genuine concern for my past hurts.

But it’s time to redirect the conversation. I shift the topic to another chapter of my life. “Before Sonya, there was someone else during high school. My mom wasn’t her biggest fan, but that didn’t stop me. I was really into her… even considered marrying her right after college graduation, partly to spite my mom. But college happened, distance came between us, and she moved on. She was married by the time I finished college.”

The waiter approaches, the arrival of our water, marking a pause in our dialogue. Around us, ambient restaurant sounds fill the space, the gentle clink of silverware against porcelain and the murmur of distant conversations adding layers to the evening’s atmosphere.

Once alone again, our conversation takes a more reflective note. We delve into our insecurities, the lessons etched into us by past loves, and the protective barriers we’ve erected around our hearts. This revealing exchange draws us closer through personal vulnerabilities.

As food is served at a nearby table, the aroma of roasted vegetables and seasoned meats breezes toward us, a perfect complement to our deepening conversation. Engrossed in this unusual conversation, I share more information than I’ve ever shared with anyone. I even delve into my family and my mother’s overbearing nature, which has somewhat jaded my view on relationships.

“Ooh.” She reacts with exaggerated concern. “Does that mean I’m getting the worst version of you?” Her playful shiver prompts my laughter.

“Actually, you’re seeing the best version of me that’s been absent for quite some time,” I tease, but there’s truth in those words.

“I’m glad.” Her finger traces the rim of her glass. “How did you start working for Stone Financial?”

She seems interested in understanding me beyond the superficial details required for the wedding façade.

“After I graduated, I started as an analyst at a midsized financial firm, eventually getting promoted to a senior analyst position. Then, at one of our family gatherings, Eric, the founder of Stone Enterprises, mentioned he was looking for someone to lead their marketing efforts. I jumped at the opportunity and began my way up to COO.”

Zuri sinks back in her chair, her curls bouncing around her delicate face. “How did Logan become CEO if Eric is the owner?”

“Eric stepped down to spend time with his family. He left the company in his brother Logan’s hands.”

“So, you’re friends with both the owner and Logan?”

I nod. “Our families have been friends for years, and my brother is close with Logan. It’s one of those things where my brother’s friends became my friends as well.”

But the spotlight’s been on me for too long. “You and Damien grew up here in San Francisco?”

“We sure did.” She beams. “We have so many memories here. I’ll have to show you around all the places we used to find trouble.”

“You, getting into mischief?” I mock a gasp and arch a brow, this side of her intriguing me.

She laughs, and the sound’s quickly becoming a favorite. It stirs something deep inside, desire. It’s been so long since I felt anything other than hurt, so these awakening emotions are—What? Overwhelming? Unwelcome? Addicting?

“You have no idea.” She shakes a finger at me, those curls quaking with her laughter. “From sneaking into late-night shows at the Fillmore to dodging security at Ocean Beach for midnight swims, San Francisco was our playground, and we knew every nook and cranny worth exploring.”

How well I can imagine their spirited youth spent in the heart of the city, adding layers to the woman sitting across from me. My curiosity shifts. I brace my wrists on the table’s dinged edge, leaning in. “How did your parents die?”

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