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“It’s settled then. Come on. My treat,” he says, and I can’t resist that. This might be the only whole meal that I get today.
“Thanks,” I say as he holds his office door open for me.
We walk side by side back to the elevator and step on.
“Have you lived in Los Angeles long, Nichole?” He asks me as we ride down to the lobby.
“Pia,” I blurt out, and he frowns.
“What?”
“Um, everyone calls me Pia. It’s been my nickname since I was a kid,” I lie.
“Pia,” he says, and my name rolls off his tongue like warm honey.
My body warms, and I have the strangest urge to ask him to say my name again. I’ve always kind of hated my name and thought it sounded strange, even childish. When Levi says it, though, I feel different. I feel special and desirable.
“Have you lived here long?” He asks me as we step out and head across the lobby.
“Yeah, what about you?”
“I moved here after college.”
He turns left once we hit the street, and we walk down a block and a half to a deli that’s bustling with people. The smells coming from inside are amazing, and my mouth waters as we head in and up to the counter.
“I have a meeting to get back to in forty minutes,” he says almost apologetically. “I can take you out somewhere nicer for dinner.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I need to go grocery shopping and then head home.”
He nods, looking disappointed, but that can’t be right. We’re next, so I don’t have time to ponder his reaction. We each order the club sandwich and a bag of chips. Levi pays, and I thank him as we move to wait for our food.
“Were you born here in Los Angeles?” He asks, and I decide to tell him the truth. After all, he doesn’t know this Nichole either.
“Yeah, I was born here and grew up downtown.”
“Do you like it here?” He asks as our food is set on the counter for us to grab.
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” I say with a shrug. “We never had money for trips or anything.”
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” he says, and I blink.
I’m not sure what to make of that.
Does he mean on like work trips? He must, right?
“Is your family still local then, too?” He asks as we take a seat.
“My parents passed away a few years ago. I was an only child, so it’s just me and my best friend now.”
“Pia, I’m so sorry,” he says, and I take a bite of sandwich so I don’t have to respond.
We eat in silence for a moment, and I get distracted by the murmur of voices coming from nearby tables.
“My parents retired and moved to Colorado a few years ago. I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like to. We’ll have to take a trip soon.”
“To visit your parents?” I ask, and he nods like any of this is normal.
“How’s your sandwich?” He asks before I can ask any more questions, and I let him steer the conversation from there.
