Page 107 of Ella Gets the D
Am I appeasing my mother today? Yes, but there’s another reason this reunion needed to happen—not counting this tasty-ass pretzel.
I straighten and push away the tiny spicy mayo container. “My personal life is no one’s business. It hasn’t concerned you for years.”
She flinches but reaches for my hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…Don’t you miss this? Us? You finally moved back home after years away.”
The server returns holding a tiny vase with a single red rose and drops it between us with a wink.
Great.
“Cam—”
Her hand darts up. Not the one that’s still holding mine in a death grip.Shit, does she lift?
“Hear me out. We both had other relationships—flings—that didn’t matter or come close to what we had. We couldn’t get our timing right then, but we can now.”
“Ayo, we don’t need another thing on this table.” I stare down the server, who’s hell-bent on making a love connection that isn’t here. He really came back with some tea lights and matches.
I shake my head. “Camila, we weren’t a fit then, and we aren’t now. I hope we can coexist, but that’s the extent of it. A ‘hello’ in passing if we ever run into each other. No more calls. No more texts. Let’s move on.”
The fire in her eyes triggers her glare, which tells me this conversation is far from over and it’s one I’ll need to repeat. She and my mother share a determination that would be admirable if it wasn’t a pain in my ass.
She rises from her chair and pulls her purse to her shoulder. “I lost my appetite.”
Surprising since you only ate four olives.
“Have a good day, Camila.”
“One way or another, you will come to your senses.” She storms past the table in a flurry of expensive perfume and ego more bruised by my rejection than the fact we were never a match.
The server tracks Camila pushing her way to the entrance. His face drops. “Was it the candles?”
“Nope. I’m ready to order.”
Chapter 40
Ella
“Good evening, Ms. Greene.”
“Hi, Otis.”
“I’ll buzz you up.” Otis walks the short distance to the elevator. His stride is efficient, modeling his years in the Secret Service. Puppy-dog brown eyes shift to the bag in my hand. “He hasn’t eaten since lunch.”
“We’ll have to fix that.” I step onto the elevator.
Otis always packs the same meal for his shift. Avocado chicken salad with a side of pretzels. The man enjoys routines and doesn’t veer away from them or the black suit he wears to work. He leans in to swipe his key card, his jet-black hair dusted in silver glinting in the light. “Enjoy your evening, and thanks for the birthday gift.”
I caught him watching the Home Edit ladies doing a makeover, and I ordered him some organizing supplies to use throughout his house. The perfect present for a man who loves order with style.
Julian didn’t choose to work late tonight, but he does at least once a week so he can see Otis. The security guard has beenwith the company for twenty years, and he’s family, even if he doesn’t like hugs or socializing. Julian makes a point to see him regularly ever since his wife died two years ago. Otis is a hard shell to crack, but he’s a teddy bear inside.
“It was my pleasure, O. See you soon.”
The climb to the fourth floor is quick. There’s no time to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I’ve visited this office enough; it’s not like it’s the first time. I was here days ago, when I popped in after his “lunch” with an ex.
Was I thrilled he was meeting someone who’s likely a knockout with no gray hairs? Of course not.
Did I fold over with laughter at Julian asking Morgan to sage him down in his office and when said sage lighting ceremony almost set off the sprinklers? Absolutely.
