Page 29 of Tastes Like Summer

Part of me feels practically deprived. To my embarrassment, I realize I would’ve loved to have been comforted. But I remind myself I’m acting insane, because we aren’t even friends, for Pete’s sake. Not really. Just summer pals.

“I can help,” he says, his voice dripping with something akin to affection.

I sniff and laugh once. “What? How? Why?”

He shrugs. “Because I can. And it could be something as simple as babysitting the girls to give you time to work or catch up with your studies. Whatever.”

I wipe at my cheeks. “You’d do that?”

He sits up straight. “For you, I would.”

“For me?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice deep.

I turn to face him head on, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the sun.

“Don’t you have any sunglasses?” he asks with a frown.

I sigh, appreciating the sudden change in subject. “Left them at home like an idiot.”

“Here.” He takes off his aviators and gently places them on my face.

I promptly take them off and offer them back.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Take them.”

“I’m trying to help you.” His voice is soft, if a little hurt, by my unexpected rejection.

“What about you? Don’t you need them?” I twirl the glasses around in my hands.

“As you’ve pointed out, I have my hat. See? I only brought my sunglasses in case I needed them, and I’m fine.” He points at his faded blue Yankees cap.

I smile, bashfully putting them on. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

His smile is broad and open, the look on someone’s face when they get something they worked so hard to achieve. It throws me off for a moment. Suddenly, I’m thankful for the dark aviators covering half of my face, hiding my expressions.

“So, tell me. Is everything okay at work?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned.

And screw him for that, because I’m starting to really like him as a person, and I don’t need someone else in my life to care about. The fewer people in your life, the simpler things are and I really don’t need complicated now. It’s just basic relationship math.

“It’s actually amazing, which is the weird part. I’m good at this. And I like what I do.”

Sure, I currently work in a corporate law firm, but it’s not all evil corporations and billionaires living in secret lairs, petting white cats in their laps. It’s interesting contract law, problem solving, finding creative solutions around someone’s language. It’s fascinating work. And I’ve been kicking butt, doing better than most first- and second-year associates. Catching their mistakes, finding alternative solutions which, thankfully, Edgar is willing to hear me out on. So much so, he’s included me in several meetings and email exchanges on the case.

“Diana Castillo. Kicking ass and taking names,” Michael says with a heartbreaking grin that looks angelic and sinful at the same time.

I laugh at that. “I wish. Though I do actually have this meeting thing in New York City my boss asked me to go to, but…”

“But what?”

“The trip will probably be an all day thing since it’s a newer client, bigger than we’ve ever taken on, and will require a lot of schmoozing. And I have no one to watch the girls after camp.”

Michael scoffs. “I can do it.”

“What? No, I could never ask you to⁠—”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”