Great Big Beautiful Life(26)

“No prob,” she says, then turns back to keep talking to her friend.

Something in my chest wilts. Maybe I should’ve just bitten the bullet and invited Theo to come visit me. This could be a long, lonely month. Especially if, moving forward, interviews are as short as this morning’s. I do a quick scan of the room. Two more doorways jut off from this one, to a larger dining room, but this one is mostly filled with two-tops—people having a drink while they wait for a proper table.

My heart lifts a little when my gaze reaches the back corner. The one closest to the bathrooms.

Hayden’s dark head is bent over a laptop, a half-eaten salad forgotten at his left elbow, and a glass of water to the right of his computer.

I leave my stuff behind and dismount my stool to go say hi.

Just like at Fish Bowl, he doesn’t look up even when I’m standing right beside him, his focus singular and intense on his screen.

“Are you stalking me?” I ask.

He jumps in surprise, like he had no idea I was there. Then his gaze locks on me, and a horrified expression crosses his face. “Of course not,” he says. And then, as if he needs proof: “I was here first.”

“Hayden,” I say. “I’m kidding. It’s a tiny island. We’re bound to keep running into each other. Relax.”

He does. Visibly. But only for a second. Then, seeming to remember something, he stiffens and shuts his computer.

“I’m not here to spy on you,” I promise. “I just saw you from the bar and thought it would be weird not to say hi. So, hi.”

His eyes wander from me to the bar and back again. “You make friends fast.”

“I’m not with them, actually,” I say. “But who knows what two rum cocktails might do?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and nods.

The silence starts to curdle into something awkward. “Have a good night!” I say, and begin to turn.

“Alice?”

I pause, swivel back to him.

“Do you want to sit?” he asks.

I study him, trying to read his serious expression. “I can’t tell if you’re just being polite or if that’s a real invitation.”

The face he makes, I am nearly certain, is an actual smile, no matter how faint. “You can basically always assume that I’m not just being polite,” he says.

This makes me laugh. That probably should’ve occurred to me sooner. It’s not like he’s been a paragon of manners in the last few days since we first met.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt…” I say.

“You’re not,” he insists. “I need to be done working. I need…a distraction.”

I smile. “A distraction?”

He winces. “I didn’t mean that to sound—”

“A distraction sounds nice,” I say.





9




When I get back to his table with my jacket and bag, Hayden’s put his computer away and moved his salad and water directly in front of himself. It’s not until I slide into my seat that I remember the dilemma. Our dilemma, Hayden’s and mine.

We can’t sit in cramped spaces like this without a great deal of careful arranging of our legs. “Sorry,” I say, my left knee bumping his and then finding itself tucked between both of his thighs, interlaced. “I think we’re too tall for this booth.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “I’m too tall for most booths. You should see me on an airplane.”

I laugh. “I’d love to. Next time you’re on one, send me a picture?”

“I don’t have your number,” he points out, which is not quite the same as asking for my number, but still sends a surprising and surprisingly pleasant zing down the front of my rib cage.

I could offer it to him. Normally, I probably would.

But I actually have no idea if he’s trying to set me up to offer it. With Theo, I can always tell what he wants. There’s a comfort in that.

“How’d your first day go?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “We’re not talking about Margaret Ives.”

“No, you’re not talking about her.” I lean forward and feel his legs tense slightly around mine. “I have no problem telling you that my first day was weird.”

“You shouldn’t be telling me this,” he says.

“Maybe not,” I allow, “but since we’ve both signed ironclad NDAs, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person I can tell about this. I think she lied to me.”

Hayden Anderson’s face might not have the full range of emotions that I’m accustomed to, but it turns out he can definitely show surprise.

And something else, like a quick flare of understanding, before he schools his face into neutrality again.

“Hayden,” I say, leaning even farther forward to peer intently into his eyes.

“Alice,” he replies, a bit stiff.

“What was that face for?” I ask.

He looks away, scratching his jaw.

“Oh, come on,” I say. “What if I promise not to use anything you give me?”

His eyes snap back to mine. In this warm lighting, they look almost gold. Like honey. He leans in closer too, his knee sliding in almost to my crotch in the process, the heat of him palpable against my bare thighs. “I’m not giving you anything,” he says.