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“He’s… amazing. Unexpected. Not the type I thought I’d be attracted to.”
Vivienne nods, eyes burning. “That’s often the case, darling. Opposites attract and all that.”
“Yes. I’ve seen it a hundred times with our own clients, but I still didn’t believe it myself. But I really like him.”
“How’d you meet him?” She reaches for her glass of white wine, eyes curious over the rim.
“Well, that’s the thing. One of the things, at any rate. I’m not sure you’d approve. I think you will. But I’m not sure.”
She smiles. “Oh, Summer. To be twenty-seven again and dating. Is he in a relationship with someone else?”
“Definitely not,” I say.
“All right. Is he more than twenty years your senior?”
I snort. “No.”
“And not underage.”
“Of course not.”
She leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other in a pose as nonchalant as it is elegant. “Then there’s absolutely no reason why I wouldn’t approve. Not if he genuinely makes you happy, and not like the weasel you dated before.”
“They’re nothing alike. And he does, you know. Make me happy.” Even if the time he’s taking for himself feels like it’s stretching into an eternity. One phone call and a couple of texts hasn’t been enough.
But he’d asked for time, and if it means he comes back to me ready to fight, I’m time’s biggest fan.
“Then I’m happy for you,” Vivienne says. “Look at us, both in love.”
“To love,” I say, raising my glass.
“To love,” she agrees, and we toast our glasses together. “And to beautiful, brilliant nieces who will soon be offered a promotion.”
I put my glass down. “Seriously?”
She laughs. “Yes. I spoke to Anthony Winter just yesterday about the new app they’ve designed for Opate. You’ve seen it, right? Suzy spoke about a meeting with Ryan.”
“I’ve seen it.” She’d spoken to Anthony?
“Once we move into the beta-phase, we’ll need to expand. I’ll be hands-on for a long while, but I’m thinking of cutting down on my hours a bit. Spend more time with Jerome.” She nods my way. “Are you interested in taking on more responsibility, Summer?”
“Yes. Absolutely, yes. I’m ready.”
“I know you are, dear,” she says, eyes sparkling. “I trained you, after all.”
Vivienne tells me to go home after lunch, and after two glasses of wine, I’m more than happy with that arrangement. Opate usually closes early on Fridays, anyway. That’s when most of our clients go on the dates we’ve set up.
More work for them, less work for us.
Ace keeps close to my side as I walk the familiar path home. New York is unusually cool today, the temperature comfortable rather than sweltering.
I’m going running tomorrow with Suzy. On Sunday evening there’s another get-together at Posie and Ben’s, and it’ll be Robin-free, she assures me. A fun weekend.
But Anthony won’t be here to comment on my newspaper reading, to drink the last orange juice, or to heat me up to a toasty hundred-and-four degrees during the already warm nights.
I contemplate calling him again just to hear the rasp of his voice tell me something, anything. I’m so deep in thought that I nearly knock into a person handing out flyers on the sidewalk.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “Really sorry.”
