Page 6 of About That One Night
“Who let you in?” She glances at her landline, probably wondering why her assistant or security didn’t warn her about my presence.
I could remind her that I can come in and out of this building without being stopped because the guards downstairs report to me, even if they’re paid by the law firm. Or that I’m good at sneaking around without being detected by civilians. Of course, I choose not to disclose any of that.
With a casual shrug, I let myself into her office and close the door. “‘Hello.’ That’s the word you say when someone comes into your office. Maybe even ‘hola’ or ‘bonjour.’”
“Only when they’re expected and welcomed,” she snaps, clearly annoyed as she crosses her arms and glares at me. Her frustration is written all over her face, from the tight set of her jaw to the way she taps her foot impatiently.
“I’m just as pleased to see you, Zo.” I set the thermic bag with the food on top of her desk. “Since I knew you wouldn’t accept my lunch invite, I brought lunch to you.”
She stares at the bag. “Busy,” she mutters, her voice tight.
“You can work while we’re eating,” I suggest, unzipping the bag and taking out the food.
“What did you bring?” she asks, curiosity piqued despite herself.
“Burrito bowls,” I offer, opening the container with guacamole and the tortilla chips.
“We already had this conversation before,” she says, almost salivating as she looks at the food. “I can’t just eat any food. This would?—”
“Be okay, because I made sure it was prepared according to your dietary restrictions.” I pull out another container. “And I got a side of quinoa salad, no dressing, just the way you like it.”
Her eyes narrow, but I can see her resolve weakening. “How did you know about the quinoa salad?”
“I pay attention,” I say with a wink, pulling oututensils and napkins. “And for dessert, I got some fruit salad. All fresh, nothing processed.”
Zoe’s lips press into a thin line, but I can see the fight leaving her. She looks at the containers again. “How? I mean, this looks really fresh. Did you spend all morning cooking?”
Though it’d make me look good to say yes, I’m honest with her. “I called in some favors. Even got us a table at Liberty Wharf Lounge for tonight—they’ll make your favorites if you say yes.”
She shakes her head. “Thank you, but I’m busy.”
“You need to eat, and it’s either accepting my invitation or heading to your house to eat with your parents,” I say, hoping it’s an effective deterrent. I haven’t met them, and they don’t sound too bad, but who wants to have dinner with their parents every single night? Not me. I then pull out the thermos with lavender sage lemonade. “Here, I got you some fresh lemonade—just the way you like it.”
After taking a couple of sips, she finally smiles at me—that smile that lights up her whole face and makes my heart do a little flip. I love seeing that smile more so when I know I’m responsible for it. “You really went all out, didn’t you?”
“Only the best for you, Harper,” I say, setting everything up neatly on her desk. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened with Tom the Tool?”
“Nope,” she says, shaking her head.
“Such a shame, because if you don’t tell me, I’m not sharing my food,” I say playfully.
She sighs, finally giving in. “Fine. But only because I’m starving.”
Oh, Zoe Harper, you’re such a liar. Though, instead of getting into another argument I just grin, handing her a fork. “That’s the spirit. Let’s eat while you talk.”
Zoe starts talking about how things began to unravel with Tom. It all started during Lily’s tour, which we playfully dubbed “le failed l’amour”—a name that made sense to us and drove Zoe crazy because I deliberately butchered the original French title, “Tour de l’amour raté.” That’s when I discovered my love for teasing her.
We both knew Lily wasn’t going to rekindle anything with any of her former boyfriends. I even started a mock crime scene board right after Ethan and Lily embarked on their adventure.
I took time off from my regular missions to help my friend, but also to keep an eye on Zoe, who didn’t trust Ethan. That’s why Zoe thinks all I do at work is watch monitors and bark orders.
As Zoe continues with her tale, giving me all the details, she says, “It was during Lily’s wedding that it hit me, you know? My sister took a chance, and even though it didn’t go as planned, it paid off. Look at her. She has an amazing business doing what she loves, a guy who loves her and supports her unconditionally. Me . . . I had Tom, but all I felt was lonely.”
“You never want to be with someone who makes you feel like you’re alone,” I say, taking a bite of quinoa salad.
“Exactly. And honestly, I thought maybe we needed to rethink our relationship. Establish new parameters, take the next step.” She picks at herburrito bowl, her fork stabbing at the rice absently. “At least say ‘I love you’ . . . never in all the years we had been together had we exchanged those words. How weird is that?”
There are many things I could say about her relationship with Tom, but I don’t bother. I continue listening to the conversation they had and how they decided to break up.
