Page 134 of The Tryst

People see what you let them see. But they also craft their own versions of you, whether you want them to or not. The key to survival is knowing when and with whom to share your different sides. That’s all you can control.

“I want to buy The Makeover and make it part of Mia Jane,” Mia says, and wow, that’s cutting to the chase. I was not expecting an offer this quickly, if she made one at all.

She hands me a sheet of paper. A little stunned, I take it then school my expression as I read the amount. It’s a helluva return on our investment.

This can ease Geeta’s burden.A lot.

But I’m still wary. Sometimes offers are too good to be true, so before I get ahead of myself, I nudge her with, “But I suspect that’s not all?”

Mia smiles like I nailed the answer on a quiz show. “Thereisa condition. I want to integrate the app into my makeup brand, with the proviso”—yup, here comes the strings—“that you come on board as my second-in-command and run the company with me.”

* * *

Mia’s offer is amazing. I’m still reeling. But I’m not the only one who gets to decide. There are two of us. I hustle to Hoboken as fast as I can because this is an in-person conversation. When I reach Geeta at her favorite tea shop, she’s buzzing, and I don’t think it’s from the chai half-finished in front of her.

“Can we get the money today?” she asks.

This is why we’re a good team. She’s full-speed ahead, and I’m more of a take-our-time gal. “Probably not. We should talk about it first,” I say. “Do our due diligence and all.”

She nods at supersonic speed. “Right. Of course. Especially since it has to work for you since they’re buyingyoutoo,” she says, her voice full of restrained hope that the deal will work for me.

That’s the crux of the issue. I’m part of the deal.

Mia doesn’t just want The Makeover. She wants me.

Am I even available? My mom wants me to join her at Beautique. She expects me to. She thinks my dad wanted me to join her.

I’ve been avoiding the decision. I’ve been dodging her comments about working together because I’ve enjoyed doing my own thing. I’ve put my head in the sand, refusing to make a real decision about the join-me-in-the-family-business expectation.

But I can’t ignore it any longer. Now that someone’s dangling an out-of-this-world chance to run a kick-ass, cruelty-free, forward-thinking makeup brand, I know exactly what I want.

To run Mia Jane with Mia.

But after the other day with my mom and finally making some progress, I don’t want to hurt her again.

And I did make a promise to take care of her.

I meet Geeta’s dark gaze. “I just need to think a little longer.”

She tries to mask her disappointment with a smile, but it’s unconvincing. “Of course.”

When I leave, my smile is forced too. It masks the pang in my chest. The one that comes from not knowing what to do.

* * *

Even if I don’t know what to do, I know where to go.

When I return to Manhattan, I grab a bagel sandwich from a bodega, then go straight to Central Park. My compass is pointing me to the bench. As I go, I cross my fingers that it’s empty.

There have been times over the years when I came here to think and someone else was using it.

To eat, to read, to nap.

Today, I need it. I want it. I’ll think and eat and listen to some music. It’ll be all mine. My public secret.

I walk faster, my heart pounding a little too hard. I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to hurt my mom. I don’t want to hurt Geeta.

As I’m passing the lake, I start to jog. Like something’s chasing me, I go faster, then I’m running past the water, around the bend, down the path and…

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