We settle on the bed, arranging trays, towels, and paper plates over the covers so my only sleeping arrangement won’t get nasty.
“So, why are you here?” I ask in a casual voice. There’s no way they just came here to hang out and bring food. They are totally buttering me up for a serious conversation.
“To check on you after you lost your last job,” Maeve replies with a full mouth while her soft, concerned eyes are trained on my face. “How’re you holding up? Financially, I mean,” she adds carefully. “You know I can help if you’re struggling.”
“No,” I stop her with a firm voice, shaking my head for good measure. “Thanks, Mae, but I’m good.”
She exchanges a doubtful glance with Martin, her brows growing closer together with every passing second. They are at the point of a monobrow, one might say, and if she doesn’t stop now, they might never separate again.
“I mean it, Mae,” I insist in a sharper voice, doubling down the defense. “I’m okay.”
“You just lost your waitressing job,” she points out, her tone gentle but pressing.
“My main job,” I correct in a tight voice, wiping my hands on a towel. “I still have my side gig.”
“Your virtual assistant job barely pays,” she says while her eyes search mine.
“It got me here, away from Mom and Dad,” I retort, a bit offended. Yes, it got me out from under my parents’ thumb, but it took me a couple years of small paychecks to save enough to leave them. I hoped I’d find something better by now, but it’s been almost a year, and I’m running low.
Maeve’s hand lands on my knee with a gentle squeeze. “I know. And I’m proud of you,” she says while her understanding eyes remain on my face. No one has told me that before. No one.
My throat tightens, her words hitting a nerve I don’t want to acknowledge right now.
“That makes one of us,” I mutter, looking away, my fingers picking at the edge of a plate.
“What’s your plan now?” she asks, taking a bite of a deep-fried shrimp.
I shrug nonchalantly, hoping we drop this conversation ASAP because it’s bringing me even more down than I was before their sudden arrival. “Try another waitressing job, I guess.”
“You don’t last at those,” she chuckles. “Neither of us do. It’s not in our blood.”
“Because you both can’t keep your mouths shut to save your lives,” Martin teases, pointing a chopstick at us.
“Haveyouever tried?” I shoot back, feeling a small smile tugging at my lips.
He pauses mid-chew. “You got me there.”
“That’s why I loved being a virtual assistant,” I begin explaining, leaning forward. “No office, no small talk, just business. I’m good at it—organizing chaos, meeting impossible demands. It’s satisfying, knowing I can pull off what others can’t. Makes me proud. But my agency is garbage. They give me the worst jobs, saving the good ones for their favorites.”
Martin’s eyes widen, his chopsticks freezing. “Wait a second,” he exclaims, grabbing a napkin and chewing fast. “One of my exes manages a top temp agency.HireForMore. You know it?”
I nearly choke on a wonton. “Yeah, but they rejected me for lack of experience. Or rather, my bad experience,” I add infrustration, recalling the conversation I had with their hiring manager who pretty much laughed in my face.
“How do people get experience when everyone wants fifty years of it in a twenty-something kid?” Maeve cries out dramatically with a rising voice and flailing hands.
Martin presses a finger to her forehead. “Don’t stress yourself—you’ll get wrinkles. And you are too young for Botox, darling.”
“Was the breakup bad? Would he still be willing to do you a favor?” I ask cautiously, wary of Martin’s sudden enthusiasm.
His face scrunches, but his eyes sparkle. “The breakup was bad, but the sex was good,” he quips with a mischievous grin. “I’ll call him tonight.”
“Tonight?” Maeve’s brow furrows. “Not better in the morning?”
“Some people are better persuaded under the dome of darkness,” he replies, winking as he grabs his phone and starts typing furiously.
His phone pings, and his eyes light up. A spreading triumphant grin must mean he just got some good news for me. A few quick exchanges, and he raises a fist.
“I gave him your number. He’ll send instructions soon,” he announces, brimming with pride.
