Page 64 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
“We reconnected quite recently. I’m not going to lie, there’s still chemistry between us.”
Zac shook his head, jaw clenched so tight, the muscles in his neck stoodout. “So,” he said, through gritted teeth, “what exactly did I interrupt last night?”
“Nothing happened,” Chloe said, forcing herself to look him in the eyes as she decided which parts to share and which to skip. Her chest got tighter, and it was difficult to even squeeze out the words. “It was a moment. A charged moment, but… that’s it.”
Zac looked away. He got up from the couch and started pacing along the bank of windows, his footsteps forceful, unlike the usual lightness with which he ran.
“I know I’m not your boyfriend and we’re allowed to date other people if we want, so I have limited right to be angry—”
“Youinvited me to the gala, Zac. You get to be mad.”
He let out a long, pained exhale. “Couldn’t it have been anyone other than Oliver Jones? Do you know how bloody condescending he is at work? Just because he can do things with numbers in his head that the rest of us need complex spreadsheets for, doesn’t mean he gets to make us feel stupid.”
Chloe didn’t know if Oliver really was condescending at work, but she could understand why Zac might feel that way. Numbers had always been ridiculously easy for Oliver. Chloe remembered a story his dad had told about a parent-teacher conference in first grade, where the school’s math specialist had sat down and opened up her fist to reveal a handful of pinto beans. “How many do you see?” Ms. Simmons had asked.
Mr. Jones counted them one by one. “Seventeen.”
Ms. Simmons nodded. “It took you five or so seconds to count them out, which is what almost everyone has to do. Most people can’t recognize anything higher than five or six beans at a glance. But when I did the same thing with Oliver, he told meinstantlythat there were seventeen. He didn’t count, he automaticallyknew.And he did it again and again, with different handfuls of beans. Your son sees numbers—mathematical patterns—where ordinary people don’t. It might seem unremarkable to you right now, Mr. Jones, but you wait and see as he gets older. I would not be surprised if Oliver has the IQ of a genius.”
Chloe had been there as that genius became more and more apparent over the years. And the thing was, Oliver didn’t mean to show off. Math wasjust so effortless for him. It was like being born a Pegasus among horses; Oliver sometimes simply forgot that not everyone else could fly.
“I can’t ask you to forgive me, Zac. But I am really sorry. And I understand if it’s over between us.”
He leaned his forehead against the bookshelf and closed his eyes.
“I don’t want it to be, Chloe. I admit I was upset—still am—but I like you a lot, and…” Zac looked up at her. “I want the chance to be the one you choose. Even if it means I have to compete against Oliver both inandoutside the office.”
Chloe got up from the couch, walked over, and hugged him. “It’s not a competition, though, is it? We’re all just trying to find that person who fits with us best. But thank you for your grace. I don’t deserve it, but I appreciate it.”
Zac held her for a minute.
“Well, competition or not,” he said, “a surprise for you showed up this morning. It was something I’d been working on last week.”
She tilted her head in question.
“TheNew York Timescalled. They want to send a reporter and photographer to interview you and take pictures of your paper roses.”
Chloe jolted out of Zac’s arms. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re doing something great, and you should let it be celebrated.” He frowned. “We talked about this. About how important it is to make sure your accomplishments are recognized? And how your project could be a springboard to something better?”
Something better. There it was again, Zac’s ambition. It was what drove him, so he viewed the world through that lens. But that wasn’t what motivated Chloe. For her, the paper roses were enough, just as they were. She didn’t need them to be bigger, or to lead to anything else.
But she had wounded Zac last night, and here he was, forgiving her and offering her a gift at the same time. It might not be something she wanted, but she certainly wasn’t going to throw his gift back in his face. Especially after stealing away to a rooftop with his enemy.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling him close again for another hug.
“Is that a yes?” Zac asked. “You’ll do the interview?”
She nodded into his T-shirt, into this thoughtful soul who didn’t quite understand her but wanted so badly to help and make her happy.
“Yes,” Chloe said. “Set it up and tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
When she got on the subway later, there was one seat available.
On it was a yellow paper rose—made from gold-foil-striped paper. Chloe gasped. Could it be? The new one she’d written for her mystery pen pal, now come back to her?
“Is this… yours?” she asked the men sitting on either side of the seat. The first shook his head; the second barely glanced up before returning to his crossword puzzle.
