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“Mr. Mercer Junior also liked all your most recent posts and left various emoji comments,” Evan continues. “Smiley faces, winks, and a hawt emoji on your sexiest pics.”
“Which one is the hawt emoji?”
“The one with the red face sweating and tongue dangling out. One post even earned you a chili pepper.”
“Mmm. What do you think it means?”
“If news of the meet-cute already reached the family, you must’ve made an impression.”
“I’d hardly define what happened this morning a meet-cute.”
“Why, what happened? You still haven’t told me.”
I get up from the desk and head toward the door. “That is a story for another day, my friend.”
“Why?”
I pause on the threshold. “Because I still don’t know how it will end.” I wave at him. “Go home and relax. You work too much.”
“Yes, Pot.”
“Night, Kettle.”
I leave Evan behind and hop down the staircase. The gym on the lower floor is still buzzing with activity: late-night classes for patrons who prefer to or only have time to work out in the evenings, runners training on machines, and even people relaxing at the juice bar. We’ve been open for ten days, and after the first-week-free trial, customer retention has been exceptional.
I push past the entrance glass door, unable to suppress a thrill of pride. I made all this. Built it from the ground up, with no one’s help.
Down the street, I flag a cab and give the driver the address to my dad’s restaurant. On the journey over, I can’t help but wonder what it means that Thomas Mercer followed me.
Well, for sure it means that MGM now knows who I am… and he’s talked about me with his brother. To say what? Thomas’s approach seems pretty cool, friendly even. Could that mean MGM is not a total sourpuss and can recognize when he’s made a blunder?
Would that change my opinion of him? Not much. He’d still be a spoiled rich boy with whom I’ve nothing in common.
The driver pulls up in front of Joe’s just behind another cab, and Marissa and I get out of our respective rides at the same time. We hug on the curb outside the restaurant.
“Hey, beautiful,” she says, glancing at my flowy maxi-dress—I spend most of my days in tight-fitting clothes so when I go out I prefer to let loose. “Looking good.”
“Thanks.” I return her smile. “You, too.”
Never seen a hotter nerd.
With sea-foam-green eyes, chestnut wavy hair, and a dusting of freckles that makes her look several years younger, Marissa is a total knockout. If someone spotted us on the street right now, they wouldn’t be able to tell I’m almost ten years her junior.
“I’m so glad you were free tonight,” Marissa says.
“I’m always free for you.” I give her another mini-squeeze and let go. “How are you?”
She’s never asked me out to have mysterious conversations about life-changing decisions before. When we’re together, we mostly talk about work. Men occasionally, but not that often as we’re both too busy with our careers to properly date. But I have a hunch tonight’s conversation isn’t going to be job-related. Men-related? Maybe. But her earlier stipulation that I can’t talk her out of it, sort of rules the boys talk out. Unless she’s decided to join some mysterious sexual cult—I highly doubt it. “Is everything all right?”
Her smile is warm. “I’m okay. Stressed, but okay.” Marissa squeezes my arm and looks at me with intent. “But I really need to talk to you.”
I place a hand over hers. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” She smiles. “It’s a beautiful thing.” She jerks her head toward the restaurant. “Talk inside?”
We head in arm in arm. Joe’s is buzzing like usual. In fact, all the tables are taken. Luckily, there are free stools at the counter, so we head that way.
Dad is taking orders in the far corner, but when he comes back and spots us, he breaks out into a huge smile.
