I shouldn’t have come.
The waiter clears away our dessert dishes and presents us with a silver coffee service. Decaf for me. I take two scoops of sugar and stir them into the steaming liquid. I pour cream, and keep my gaze down, giving myself time to think. I’ll have to take a bus back, or a taxi or…I think Carly said she was coming out here for the week to get “some space.” Maybe I could call her.
“So, Gemma, is your brother still friends with Josh Lewenthal?”
I quickly lift my head and look at Ian. It’s strange he’d mention Josh. Especially when my thoughts have been drifting to him during the entire eight-course meal.
Lime zest shavings in the curry soup—Josh.
Julienned carrots in the salad—Josh.
Oregano and basil on the lamb, tastes like pizza—Josh.
Ice cream and profiteroles for dessert—Josh.
Abstract flower paintings on the walls of the restaurant—Josh.
Gah.
“Why do you ask?” I manage to say without showing too much interest. At least, that’s my hope.
Ian lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “We went to university together, then we were at the same start-up. Let’s just say, I’m curious what became of him.”
I lift my eyebrows, “I didn’t know you were at that techie start-up. And here I thought you were always a guru.”
He chuckles and then I watch as he spoons sugar into his cup and then pours a small drizzle of cream so that his coffee turns a caramelly brown. His fingers are so long and elegant, his movements so precise. A month ago, I would’ve fantasized about his hands. But now…nah.
“So what is he up to these days?” Ian asks when he’s done taking a sip of his doctored coffee.
What to say. What to say.
“He has a web comic, I think it’s popular. I don’t know, I haven’t read it.”
Which I should. I really should.
Ian lifts a winged eyebrow and says, “Still not a fan? We share that sentiment, I suppose. Although not many people do.”
I take a sip from my coffee to cover my frown. When I’ve swallowed I ask, “What do you mean?”
Ian looks around the elegant restaurant, at the tables nearby, but not too near, at the other guests, and then he leans forward and says in a quiet voice, “I’ve never told anyone outside of the start-up about this, but when we worked together, Josh stole my work. I had a book full of essays and quotes that I’d spent years working on. It was the concept I built Live Your Best Life Starting Now around. He found it in my desk and stole it. Attempted to make a business out of it. That break of trust nearly ruined me. It took years for me to recover from.”
I stare at Ian, at the hurt expression on his face and the betrayal I see written there. And I don’t know what to say. Josh…Josh did…
“Is that why he left the start-up?” My voice sounds funny to my ears. I clear my throat.
Ian nods. “After the theft was discovered, he left. Like I said before, he has a habit of disappointing people.”
“Oh. Right.” I take another sip of my coffee, but now instead of tasting sweet and like toasted nuts, it tastes bitter.
Was I wrong about Josh? Have I been wrong all this time?
What do I really know about him anyway?
I’ve been building him up in my head again, maybe even, if I admit it to myself, falling for him. But what for? If what Ian is saying is true, (and why would he lie?) then Josh isn’t the decent, stand-up guy I thought he was.
“I wondered what he was up to nowadays. If he ever got over it all. He was angry he got caught, but I say, let bygones be bygones. Let it go and live your best life.” Ian leans back in his chair and gives me a charming smile.
Josh has never said anything about Ian, but I’ve always gotten the feeling he isn’t his favorite person. Apparently, this is why. Maybe he’s just embarrassed he made a stupid mistake. After all, it was years ago that this happened.
I twist the napkin in my lap and smile back at Ian. “I wouldn’t know. Sorry.”
After dinner, we stroll down the quaint sidewalk. I’m feeling deflated, incredibly, horribly deflated. Not even the cute, brightly lit shops and Ian’s company can lift my spirits.
I’m only half listening to Ian as he’s talking about some big-name celebrity he knows that owns the house next to his when he cuts off and stops walking.
“Well, I’ll be,” he says.
I turn to look at what’s caught his attention.
And there, not twenty feet from us, walking down the sidewalk with a box of pizza in his hands, is Josh. He’s in scuffed jeans, an old winter coat, and sneakers, and if I didn’t know him I’d think he was the pizza delivery guy. He’s holding a cardboard pizza box in his arms and looking down at the sidewalk as he walks toward us. I hold my breath. I don’t want him to look up. I don’t want him to see me in my Audrey Hepburn-style dress holding Ian’s arm outside of an expensive la-di-da restaurant.
I really, really don’t want him to look up.
But of course, in life, things don’t always happen the way you want them to.
When he’s only a few feet away, Josh glances up from the snowy sidewalk. At first, I can tell, he doesn’t recognize us. He’s about to pass us by, like the strangers we could’ve been. That only lasts for a split second. As he’s passing he focuses on my face and suddenly, his eyes catch mine. And he realizes we aren’t strangers.
That it’s me.
With Ian.
At first Josh looks surprised and then maybe…uncomfortable? Upset?
He gives a hard swallow as he pauses in front of us. “Hey.”
My heart gives a hard thump.
I step away from Ian.
“Josh, hey. What’re you doing out here?” I give a bright smile, because the amount of tension that just sprang up around us is intense.
For a second, I don’t think he’s going to respond, but then he shakes himself and his old life’s-my-playground smile lights up his face.
“Hey, Gem. Ian. I’m just…”—he holds up the box of pizza—“getting some dinner. You know me and pizza.”
Oh.