"This is such a nice house," Tess says as she strides into the living room, her eyes sweeping over the open space.
"Yeah, thanks." I slip out of my sneakers and place them by the door before following her swaying ponytail and Sammy's flopping tail. "We just moved here this past summer. I figured with Ruthie starting middle school and this being my last year with the Gators that we should at least have a steady, more comfortable home base."
"Pun intended," she jokes, looking over her shoulder. "I didn't realize you were retiring this year."
I nod with pursed lips and gesture for her to sit down once we make our way to the couch. She does, settling into the front of the cushion furthest from my spot in the chair, and Sammy, who knows better, jumps up and plops his head into her lap as if he's known her forever.
"So, I have to be honest here," I say, switching subjects and choosing not to deal with the dog right now. "My patience with these interviews is hanging on by a thread, and you started yours off by showing up late."
Her hand pauses mid-pet on Sammy's back. She parts her lips to argue—or defend herself maybe—but then presses them together, letting me finish.
"And just so we're clear," I continue, "Brooke mentioned you were between jobs because you were let go from your last one." I meet her gaze,steady and unflinching. "So, maybe you can help me understand why I should believe this could actually work."
The words come out sharper than I intend, but maybe that's a good thing. The happy-go-lucky version of me—the one who thinks everyone deserves a chance—has gone through multiple employees in this past month alone.
Tess clears her throat quietly and sits up taller. "First of all, I did not get fired."
My eyes narrow, and her shoulders slump slightly.
"Okay, on paper, I technically did. But the Randolphs are moving—to Washington. So, short of going with them, there was nothing I could do."
I nod, attempting not to show her that somehow I believe her.
"And second," Tess continues, "I know I was late. That never happens—full transparency, there was a miscommunication, and I thought the interview was tomorrow."
"Miscommunication as in Brooke was talking about bathroom tiles or the big curtain versus shade debate and told you the wrong day?" I ask dryly, referencing the many conversations I've overheard between her and Alex lately.
She looks at me, hesitating to answer. "No comment."
That earns a faint smile that I try to hide by dropping my gaze to the floor.
Loyalty—I like it.
For Ruthie.
"Go on."
She shrugs. "That's it, really. Once I realized it was today, I tried to get here as fast as I could, but I was covered in flour, and my boyfriend took my car. I had to hail a cab, and then I ran here from the top of your develop—"
"I'm sorry, what?" I cut in, interrupting her ramble. Even Sammy lifts his head and peers up at her with his puppy-dog eyes.
"Yes, I ran here, okay? I guess telling you ruins the effort, but I figured you noticed there's no ride in the driveway waiting for me."
"Didn't notice," I admit, surprising both of us. "Sammy's escaping must have distracted me. But no, not that. Your boyfriend took your car?"
"Oh…" Her expression falters before she pastes her smile back on. "Yeah, he didn't think I needed it. Honest mistake."
"Mhmm. And is this the same boyfriend from the ice cream night?"
Tess's cheeks brighten. This is the first time either of us has mentioned that we aren't exactly strangers. It hits me that… maybe she doesn't remember. That would be fine. It'd make sense. Be easier even.
But I remember. And Sammy definitely did. And something about the way she's suddenly interested in the loose thread hanging from the seam of the couch cushion tells me that she might too.
"Yep," she says, way too cheerful. "Trevor."
She definitely does.
"Trevor…" I repeat. "Got it."
