Isaac’s standing by my door. The navy suit looks casual on him tonight, unbuttoned and no tie. It’s made more domestic by the cat streaking against his leg.
“Is he always this friendly?” he asks.
I glance over from my spot in front of the mirror. I have an earring in hand, the other already fastened on my left lobe. “I wouldn’t really know,” I say, “since I don’t have guests over a lot. Maybe he was just shy the last time you came over?”
Isaac runs a large hand over Milo’s back. I hear him murmur words, his voice deep and soft, but they’re too quiet for me to make out. Meant for Milo’s soft ears and no one else’s.
I watch them for longer than I need to. That cat might not know it, obsessed as he is with long naps on the couch and watching birds from the windowsill, but he had saved my life the past year.
“All right,” I finally say. “I’m ready.”
Isaac straightens and receives a disgruntled meow from Milo in return, who dramatically flops down by his feet. “You look stunning,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say. I feel nervous around him again. The formality of this date, the restaurant reservation… we’re not going as pretend dates. This isn’t an act, or a twisted sort of revenge, or a facade.
This is just us.
One final time before we potentially go into business together. One final time before tomorrow’s pitch.
Isaac has a car waiting for us at the door of my building. It takes us uptown, back into familiar territory. Past the marble pristineness of the Winter Hotel and onto streets I recognize well.
He’s reserved a table for us at Salt.
I’ve been there before. It has expensive food by a Michelin Star chef, but it’s approachable enough for lunch or a date. I’ve been with friends, and once with my family when they were in town. And I’ve been there with Percy.
Often.
The car pulls to a stop outside. “Is this okay?” he asks. Maybe he’s noted my silence.
“Yes, yes, absolutely.”
“They have a great white wine selection for you,” he murmurs. “Several Chardonnay options.”
Salt is packed. It always is, even though this is a weekday evening. The nerves in my stomach increase to a fever pitch as we follow a waitress past fully seated tables. I’m pitching tomorrow. It’s the biggest day of my career so far, and then, it’ll mean an end to this. To him and I.
Isaac lets me pore over the white wine list in silence without as much as a sigh, so unlike Percy, and then we order our drinks.
He knots his hands on the table. “Sophia,” he says. “What are you thinking about?”
I sigh. “Sorry. I’m thinking about tomorrow.”
“Ah. The pitch.”
“Yes. Jenna, Toby, and I ran through it today, but I’ll be honest, I’m still a bit nervous about it.”
He runs a hand along his jaw. “Because your client is such an asshole.”
“Yes, exactly. He also happens to be really good friends with my boss’s boss.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say they’re good friends,” Isaac says. “I mean, not as far as I’ve heard.”
I chuckle. “That’s a relief.”
“Still, though, I know you’ve worked incredibly hard on this pitch. Regardless of what my team or I will think about your suggestions for the hotel franchise, nothing can take that away from you.”
“No, that’s true. But it can make it all a waste of time.”
He raises an eyebrow. “A waste of time?”
“Well, not all of it, but you know what I mean.”
“I do,” he says. Then he frowns, those dark eyes intense on mine. “Is it because you know I’ll be honest?”
“Maybe that’s part of it,” I say. “But I appreciate that. I know you’ll be fair, too, and I wouldn’t want you to lie to protect my feelings.”
He nods. “I didn’t think you would.”
“But I know it’s not just me, either. Jenna and Toby have worked really hard on this. All of us want to blow you and your team away tomorrow.”
“Of course, you do.”
“All projects are important to me, and I love my job. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say this one feels even more so because it’s you, and it’s your company.”
“Sophia,” he says, and there’s a faint smile to his lips. “You’ve already impressed me.”
“Yes, but that’s on a personal level.”
He shakes his head. “No, not only. I was impressed by your work ethic before… this happened. Before we happened.”
That makes me smile. “Thanks. You know, when I realized you were the same man I’d met in the hotel lobby that night, it made me want to prove myself.”
“You did, not that you had to.”
“But I’ve always had that drive,” I say.
“I know,” he says, and I know he does because I’ve seen the same thing in him. I might be an outsider, a foreigner in New York, and I was a novice in my husband’s world. I needed to prove myself. Isaac Winter, on the other hand? He had been born the heir to an empire and probably had a monogrammed pacifier. And yet… it hadn’t made him entitled.
“It’s always been the same for me,” he murmurs. Proving that he deserves it all. Proving that he’s up to the task.
I reach out across the table, my palm up. He doesn’t hesitate in taking it. “How do you think working together will be,” I ask, “after this?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not looking forward to it.”
The straightforward admission makes my chest tighten. Me neither. I don’t want to lose the easy confidences and conversations.
“Not being able to pick your mind will be hard.”
His leans forward. “This doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing situation. If you want to talk after tomorrow, I’ll always be available.”
“I don’t think I could resist even if you weren’t.”
“Good,” he says. “Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking. There’s another opt—”
A shadow falls over our table, and Isaac’s words come to an abrupt stop. Percy and Scarlett are standing next to us.
In Isaac’s grip, my hand goes limp.
“Hello, you two,” Percy says. “Sorry to interrupt like this, but—”
“We never got to say a proper goodbye at the tennis tournament!” Scarlett’s smile is wide enough to show off her molars. It’s a complete one-eighty from when I’d seen her across the room at the benefit a few weeks ago. “Thanks for a great game. You looked like such a great team.”
My stomach sinks. Isaac. That’s what this is about. She’s from this world, her parents are friends with the Brownes, and she went to college with Percy’s friend group.
And I’m now, in her view, seriously dating Isaac Winter. That’s a brilliant social connection to have, neatly connected through two ex-spouses.
“Thank you,” Isaac says. His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of hostility beneath the cool surface. “Are you here for dinner?”
“Yes, we’re just heading to our table now, but we had to stop and say hello.” Percy’s eyes shift to mine. There’s an emotion in them I can’t read.
That surprises me. I used to be able to so easily.
Now I just want them to leave. My last night with Isaac, and here they are? Why had we gone to Salt in the first place? The entirety of New York City is available to us. We could be at a diner in Brooklyn or at my little ramen place, having the time of our lives.
“Soph?” Percy says.
I clear my throat. “Tonight’s tasting menu looks stellar,” I say. “Especially the chicken.”
“Yes, I think that’s what I’ll have,” Scarlett says. Her strawberry-blonde hair is soft around her face, and I suddenly see it spread out on a pillow like it had been when I walked in to see her beneath him. “We actually have some fun news to share, don’t we, Perce?”
Percy looks at me with his sheepish smile. It’s the one I’d used to find endearing. Now it looks like an act, an attempt at playing Peter Pan. He’s the boy who never wanted to grow up.
“We’re having a baby,” he says.
My mind goes blank. The sound of the restaurant fades away, turns into white noise. Isaac’s hand tightens around mine, and I feel it from somewhere far away.
“Congratulations,” someone says. Him. He says it.
Percy’s watching my reaction. And he sees it when the blow lands. The final insult, the perfectly crafted blade. He knows exactly where it’ll slide in between my ribs.
He’d wanted kids. I did too, but not yet. Not while my career was doing so well. He’d never been okay with that, and my mother-in-law had commented on it all the time, making it clear I was the one in the wrong.
Failure, I think. This is just one more arena I failed in, and they never let me forget it.
“Sophia?” Scarlett asks. There’s a note of sympathy in her voice, but I can’t tell if it’s real or fake. “I’m sorry if that’s hard to hear. We’re really happy for you two, you know, both of us. And we hope that going forward there’s a way for—”
“Sorry, will you excuse me?” I say, getting up from my seat.
“Of course,” Isaac says. He starts to stand as well, and maybe we could leave, maybe there’s a better way out of this, but I can’t see it. I turn on my heel and flee both the past and the present, heading toward the safety of the restroom. I barely make it before the first tear falls.
