“The friend I mentioned earlier? Catalina? She’s having a D&D party at her place in a couple of days. She asked me to come, even though she knows I won’t.”
“Then why did she invite you?”
“Duh.” I almost rolled my eyes. “I still want to be invited; I just don’t want to go to her parties.”
“I’m confused. You just said she’s your best friend.”
“Yes, which is why she knows she has to invite me but that I won’t be there. I never go to parties.” Too many people and too many conversations. I found them so draining.
“You never go to parties?” he said in the same way someone else might ask, You don’t breathe oxygen? His tone had me wondering if he was rethinking our agreement.
I felt a little judged, even though he hadn’t said anything negative. He was just surprised, which was fair, given that most nonintroverted people seemed to enjoy things like parties. I had to stop assuming that people meant the worst when they were only being curious. I couldn’t project my own personal insecurities onto others.
“No,” I told him, “I never go to parties. I mean, I could have gone to one last Halloween, but instead I told people that I was dressing up as Amelia Earhart, and then I just didn’t show up.”
He laughed and said, “I don’t really enjoy parties, either, these days. All the ones I go to are for work.”
I didn’t know how Marco was going to feel about the whole D&D thing, but we’d just deal with it when we got there. “If what Catalina keeps telling me is true, Minx has a massive gossip network, and there will be some former colleagues of mine at the party, so it’ll be easy to get the word out about us. We can even have someone take a picture and tag the company.” Old Gretchen would definitely see it then.
And she would pass it along to Craig. Would it make him jealous? Would he finally notice me and realize that we could be happy together?
Marco stood up, getting his suit jacket, and I followed him out to the lobby. I remembered that he didn’t bring his car. “I can give you a ride home,” I said.
The edges of his eyes wrinkled up when he smiled. “I thought you didn’t get in cars with strange men.”
“I think I can make an exception for fake boyfriends.”
“Thank you, but I already requested a car.”
I realized I didn’t know if he meant on a rideshare app or if he had an actual car with a driver sort of situation happening. Our lives were so completely different that I didn’t know how we were going to make anyone believe that we were falling for each other. But somehow we had to convince Craig that we were in love.
Again, one thing at a time. Right now I just needed to head home and process all of this. “Okay. Well, I should probably get going.”
“If you can,” he said.
“Was that a dig at Betty?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Is that what you named that monstrosity that you drive?”
Betty was a twenty-seven-year-old Toyota Camry that may or may not have been dealing with some rust issues and pieces that were being held together by duct tape. “My grandma very much wants to save the earth and all its soil, and apparently it’s bad to buy a new car. Not to mention that I couldn’t afford one, even if I wanted it.”
“Replumbing an entire house can’t be cheap.” He nodded thoughtfully. “And your parents didn’t leave you anything?”
“No. They were both young, and they didn’t have life insurance. And given my taste for pretty lab equipment and the house . . . there’s nothing left. I did my undergrad at USC. I’d wanted to get my master’s degree in cosmetic chemistry, but I couldn’t afford it. My grandma told me to take out student loans, and I told her that it was much more expensive than in her day when getting your master’s basically meant paying a hundred bucks and promising to fight communists.”
He laughed. “Good thing your new job starts tomorrow. I’ll have the contracts sent over to you. They’ll be fairly standard, but you should probably have a lawyer look them over.”
“I’m going to be double-checking to make sure I’m not accidentally selling my eternal soul to the devil or something.”
“Don’t worry. We only put that clause in the contracts of the consultants we know are headed there anyways.”
I grinned at him.
He asked, “So once you get your soul-selling money, what are you going to do with it? Get that degree?”
That was a good question. “No. I think I’m going to buy my grandparents some appliances that were made in this century. I hear those ice dispenser things in fridges are pretty good.”
“Revolutionary,” he agreed. “It will change your life.”
“I’m also going to buy that mixer.”
“Don’t forget you need to restock your glitter,” he reminded me.
“Obviously. And then I’m going to save the rest.”
“For a rainy day?”
“To start my own makeup company.” Again, we were back in territory that I hardly discussed with anyone outside of Catalina. It always felt so personal, private, but I sensed that Marco wouldn’t make fun of me for it.
“Your own makeup company? So . . . you’ll be using my father’s money to become my rival?”
“That’s the dream.”
“It’s a good one,” he said. “I also appreciate the heads-up. Most other companies lack the common courtesy to let me know that they’re going to be competing with me for market share.”
“You’re welcome. What about you? What’s your dream?”
“To take over KRT Limited from my father.” But he said it with so little conviction that I had a hard time believing him. “It may not happen for a couple more decades, but it’s what I’ve been working toward for a long time.” He paused. “It’s what Craig wants, too.”
“Oh.” For Marco to get what he wanted, Craig would have to lose out. I didn’t know how I felt about that, and I was surprised that I was having complicated feelings about it. I should want Craig to have what he wanted, right?
“Are you rooting for Craig?” he asked, and I was again surprised by his perceptiveness.
“You seem to know a lot of things about me,” I said apologetically, not acknowledging that he was right or that he might be a little bit wrong.
“Like how you would come here today,” he agreed.
“What do you mean by that?”
“To speak your language, I formulated a hypothesis about you.”
“Which was?” I asked.
“I thought that if I made you curious enough, you’d meet with me to find out what I wanted.”
Scoffing, I said, “Most people would have come. Your premise is flawed.”
“Most people wouldn’t, given the circumstances.”
What circumstances? The glittery orange ones? “If I asked you out to lunch, you’re telling me you’d say no?”
He leaned in, that weaponized smile of his gleaming at me and making my knees a bit wobbly. “Anna, are you asking me to go to lunch with you?”
“We’re already at—” I cut myself off. I was exasperated, and I knew he was messing with me, but his charm was too effective on me. I was worried I was going to say something I’d regret.