Page 12 of Love in Focus

“Wait, who’s she?”

I almost call Celeste a “friend” but then realize she’s everything but. And I don’t want to get into our painful history with a total stranger, either, so I say, “Just someone I know.”

As Ian and I leave, I fix Celeste with one last stare. She blinks rapidly, her eyes widening slightly as she bites her bottom lip. It’s an innocent gesture, but the sudden moment of vulnerability makes my cheeks heat up again. I quickly turn away and walk out the bar with Ian.

When his car arrives, I hold the door open.

“You’re not coming with me?” Ian asks, pouting like a little kid.

“Sorry,” I say. “Maybe some other night.”

I have no intention of ever seeing this guy again, but I don’t want to piss him off. You can never tell how men will react to rejection, and I’ve already seen him yell at someone once tonight.

Luckily, Ian is either too tired or too drunk to put up much of a fight. He obediently slips into the back seat, and I close the door behind him.

The car drives off, leaving me alone with thoughts of Celeste.

Once upon a time in college, Celeste Min fell in love with a girl named Gemma.

Gemma Cho was a friend of a friend, and they’d only ended up rooming together because Kayla Peterson, Celeste’s roommate of two years, spontaneously moved in with her boyfriend the summer before junior year. Since she felt bad for ditching her, Kayla brought in her other friend, Gemma, to replace her in the apartment they’d already signed the lease for.

Celeste hadn’t minded, especially after she saw how pretty Gemma was. Since Kayla, a Taylor Swift look-alike who now has three kids with her own Travis Kelce, was—and still is—one of Celeste’s straightest friends, Celeste had assumed Gemma only liked guys, too. But then she realized that, while she couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful girl she’d somehow ended up living with, the girl was also staring back ather.

Gemma told Celeste that she’d never dated a girl before. But after countless days and nights of going on dreamlike dates around LA and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, Celeste had hoped she was the exception.

Now, alone in a dark, crowded bar in San Francisco, she sips her drink.

Celeste had never expected to see Gemma again, not after Celeste’s mom got sick and she had to temporarily drop out of school.

For her first four months back home, Celeste drowned, floundering in medical trauma and familial expectations. She only survived because of Min-joon, her best friend in Seoul, who, as a bi man also from a deeply traditional family, could understand her struggles of taking care of someone who never fully accepted who she is.

But nothing could mitigate the intense pain and betrayal Celeste felt when she’d finally managed to pull herself back to the surface, only to discover that Gemma had moved on with someone else just a few months after she'd left. Like Celeste had never existed.

Since then, Celeste had refused to do relationships, a rule that Gretchen Sanders had blatantly ignored. But Celeste can’t exactly blame Gretchen. It’s only natural for someone to think they would be the exception, that they would be the one to change someone else and achieve that pipe dream happily ever after.

After all, Celeste once thought she was special, too.

Absolutely not.” Evelyn’s response comes quick and without a moment of hesitation. “All the paperwork just got finalized, and we’re already behind schedule. Plus, she’s perfect for the project, so I’m not sure why choosing someone else is even necessary. I had a lunch meeting with her yesterday, and she was absolutely lovely.”

I tightly clutch my thermos of coffee, trying to find the right words to explain the situation to Evelyn.

“What if I have a… personal reason why I can’t work with her?” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “She and I have history, and not a good one at that.”

Peering at me over the edge of her glasses in a way that reminds me of Meryl Streep inThe Devil Wears Prada, Evelyn purses her lips. “What kind of history?” she asks, slowly drawing out every word.

I sigh. So much for keeping my personal life away from my professional one.

“We dated,” I say. “In college. Things didn’t end well, and honestly, if I knew she was attached to this project, I would have asked to not be assigned to it.”

I drink from my thermos as Evelyn raises her eyebrows. “That bad? So you still have feelings for her.”

I splutter, choking on a mouthful of coffee.

“Um, no, of course I don’t. It’s been almost ten years since we dated. I’ve been engaged to and broken up with a whole other person since the last time we saw each other.”

“Well, I’m assuming working with Ms. Min won’t be a problem, then?” Evelyn asks, turning her attention back to her desktop. If it weren’t for the slight, amused quirk of her lips, I’d think she’s being dismissive.

She thinks it’s funny, I realize. And I guess, in a hilariously cruel twist of fate kind of way, it is. I think back to how awkward things were between Celeste and me last night.

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