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"I'm sorry," Ava apologizes. "I snapped at you. You're right, I should try to look at things from Jack's perspective. I'm just tired, you know?"
I take a sip of the sweet and citrusy drink in front of me and let her carry on.
"I love writing," she continues. "I just don't want to write about world events. I like writing about the Christmas parade and the first day of school."
"Why can't Jack write about world events then?" I ask.
"He's too busy covering Opinions, Features, and Business."
"What about that other guy?" I snap my fingers. "What's his name again?"
"James," Ava sighs dramatically. "And he's exclusively on Sports, Classifieds, and Ads."
"That leaves you to cover world events then?" I deduce.
"I know this is childish of me," Ava furrows her brow. "I'm just...I feel stuck. I want to write about something less serious and scary. I want to write about easy things. Like a dog that gets lost and finds his way home or a kite that won't fly."
"You mean like short stories?" I shake my head, thoroughly confused
"More like children's books," she bites her lip. "It would be too hard on Jack, though. He needs me to write articles."
"Have you talked to him about it?"
Ava shakes her dark head. "No, I don't want to stress him out."
"OK," I nod.
"That's all you're going to say?" she looks at me helplessly.
"Yes," I answer.
"You have no advice?"
"If you haven't noticed," I chuckle, "my life is a mess. I shouldn't be offering anyone any advice."
"I value your opinion," Ava pleads. "Whatever it is."
"Talk to Jack," I raise my eyebrows. "Even if it does stress him out."
She lets out an annoyed breath. "OK. I'll try talking to him."
Silence settles between us as the waitress begins taking everyone's orders. I lick my lips nervously, remembering there are only a few cents in my bank account. I didn't even think about that when I ordered my drink. I'm going to have to ask Ava to loan me the money to pay for it. God, that's embarrassing.
"For you?" the waitress points at me.
I shake my head. "I'm good."
"What do you mean you're good?" Ava nudges me with her arm. "You said you were starving on the car ride here."
I take a moment to let the humiliation wash over me. I can't afford anything on the menu. Not that I've even looked at it. I should have ordered water. I should have thought this through.
"She'll have the shrimp pasta," Brady speaks up and I want to die.Physically die.
"I—" I start to say but he smiles and I forget how to speak. I forget how to form words.
"I'm paying for the whole table," he whispers as his eyes narrow on Ava. "If you want something other than shrimp pasta, let her know now. I know it used to be your favorite at that little Italian place we liked."
The part of me that is mortified—and I mean humiliated beyond belief that I'm poorer than dirt—fades into the background as the part of me that warms with thoughts of Brady takes center stage.
