“Okay, now tell me everything,” I gush. “What do you really think about working for GoldLake? Do you love it? Are they being nice to you? Are you getting to work on any exciting projects?”

Maria laughs, covering her mouth when she does. “Rori, it’s still my first day. The answer to all your questions is: I have no idea yet!”

“Sorry,” I grin. “I’m just so excited for you.”

Maria and I are at Fran’s Diner, the same place Wes and I came when we first hatched our contract. I had offered to take her out for lunch for her first day at GoldLake, partly to celebrate and partly as a thank-you. She’d already agreed to help Kyla and I out with the video we wanted to pitch for our marketing campaign. We’d spent the weekend with her and a videographer friend of Kyla’s, getting some b-roll of Maria at home, at the community center garden, and interacting with her adorable son Bruno.

It was a little weird, considering she hadn’t even started at GoldLake by that point, but that’s why we were waiting till later this week to film the actual interview. I’m hoping that filming it early will mean she’ll give us some honest first impressions — but either way, this is just a rough take for the presentation with Wes. We can always redo the interview once she’s had more time to settle in.

Now Maria grins, sipping her coffee. Her full lips are painted in a bright red, and with her white blouse, grey blazer and skirt, and neatly knotted hair, she looks like a completely different person from when I first met her, digging in the dirt at the Elmwood Gables Community Garden.

“Honestly, I think it’s going to be great,” she says. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in and I’m a little bit overwhelmed. But I think I’m handling it okay.”

“I have no doubt you are.” I smile at her. The more time I spend with Maria, the more I like her. She’s warm and funny and smart, and I can’t even fathom the kind of inner strength she must have, with everything she’s been through. I have a melt-down if the corner bodega is out of Diet Coke, and this woman’s been through hell and back. Yet watching her with her son, especially as he struggled with his homework and she patiently sat down and tried to work through the math problems with him, I see this kind of grace and calmness in her that I really admire.

“Do you like your mentor?” I ask, sawing off a bite of pancakes. Breakfast for lunch — it’s totally a thing.

“I think I’m going to love her. It’s so cool to be working under a woman who’s succeeding in project management. I worried that it would be all men there, but so far it’s a really nice and mixed bunch of people.”

“That’s great.” I wonder briefly if that’s Wes’s influence. I think about what he told me that first night we went out and he pitched the project to me. He’d talked about his mother and the opportunities he wished she could have had. I wonder if that’s always influenced his hiring choices, even before this new dedicated program. The thought makes my insides flip, makes me feel like my stomach is smiling.

“So, what cool projects are you going to be managing?”

“None of my own yet,” she says shyly. “But I’m helping out with this project to add six levels of parking to a development out in Williamsburg.”

“Parking?” I wrinkle my nose, laughing. “That doesn’t seem exciting.”

“Oh, it is, though,” Maria beams. “There are so many moving pieces, so many deadlines and deliverables. I’m in Gantt chart heaven.”

I laugh. “I wish I was that organized.”

“But you run your own business!”

“Yeah, but you should see the mess that is our office. And the file system on my computer ...” I pretend to shudder. “It would give you nightmares.”

“I could help you whip that into shape,” she says confidently.

“You’d need a whip for sure,” I joke. “I need to be disciplined.”

“No, I’m serious. I could totally help you. Life is so much easier when you’re organized, and I owe you one to thank you for getting me this job.”

“Oh, you don’t owe me anything,” I say, brushing off her comment. “It’s all Wes. This project was his idea. All I did was pass along your resume. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you what you think of Wes?”

I admit that I’m curious to get her insights. My perspective on Wes is warped because of our history, but Maria might be more objective.

But instead, she shakes her head. “I actually haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I guess he hasn’t had time to stop in and say hi yet. I know — I’ll ask him to have a coffee with you.”

“Oh, really, Rori, it’s no big deal,” Maria protests, as if she’s afraid I’m going to get her in trouble. “Honestly.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he knows it’s my idea and you’re not having any problems or anything,” I assure her, when I see the nervous expression on her face.

“I just don’t want to do anything to jeopardize this position.”

“I know. Totally get it. I promise I’ll just suggest it. I’m sure he’d love to do it anyway. He’s very passionate about this project.”

I actually hadn’t talked to Wes much since he dropped me off at my office late last week. We’d texted a few times, and he’d invited me out for dinner on Sunday, but Kyla and I have been so wrapped up in the pitch that I barely stopped moving all weekend. By the time the invitation came, I was practically comatose and had to turn him down. That didn’t stop me from spending the entire weekend thinking about him though.

Maria and I finish our breakfasts and I settle up the bill. Just as we’re about to head out of the diner, the glass shelves behind the counter catch my eye. Specifically, the bright yellow of the most delicious-looking lemon meringue pie I’ve ever seen in my life. I think of Wes eyeing the pie last time we were here.

I could bring him a piece, I think. Since I’m stopping over there anyway to meet with the HR director to get some statistics on their hiring program. It’s the neighborly thing to do, right? Not to mention that it would give me a good excuse to stop in and see him.

I catch the attention of the petite brunette working behind the counter and ask for a slice to go. Then Maria and I walk the eight blocks back to the GoldLake offices, chatting and laughing the whole time.

* * *

When I get to Wes’s office, Joyce is sitting there like a sentinel, as always. I feel like she’s the sphinx and I’m supposed to answer some kind of riddle before she’ll grant me access to Wes’s office.

“Yes?” she says, raising her eyebrows over her red spectacles.

“Forty-two,” I mutter under my breath. “The answer is forty-two, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

Oops.

“Is Wes here?” I say instead, smiling sweetly.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I haven’t needed an appointment to see him in the past.”

“Everyone needs an appointment.”

“If you call him, and he says I need an appointment, I will happily come back later.”

I’m still smiling and she finally sighs loudly and picks up the phone. I count this as a success — it’s the first time she hasn’t tried to physically bar me from going into his office.

“Rori Holloway to see you,” she says crisply. Hey, at least she remembered my name. “I see. Yes, sir.”

She sets the phone down and purses her lips, then sighs. “He’ll see you.”

I almost bow — it feels like that’s what you should do when the sphinx allows you to pass. Instead I just say thank you and go past her desk, pushing open Wes’s door.

His face lights up as soon as he sees me, and I can’t help the happy fluttery thing my heart does. When he looks at me like that, all my insides turn to mush. It’s kind of ridiculous, really.

“Rori. This is a nice surprise.”

“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by and say hi.”

“I’m glad you did. Have a seat.”

I sit down across from him, nestling into the oversized leather chair. I remember the first time I sat in this chair, coming into his office with that contract, my hands shaking as I told him there’d be no kissing, no funny business of any kind. Look how well that worked out.

The thought brings a smile to my lips, and Wes looks puzzled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About our contract.”

“Oh, did you have some concerns with it?” His expression turns serious.

“Not that contract.”

“Oh ... ohhhh.” His concern turns into a wicked grin. “What can I say, I’m a master negotiator.”

“You are. But I was actually thinking that we’re both pretty terrible about holding up our ends of the agreement.”

“True. Don’t let any of my business associates know.”

“I won’t.”

“They might expect me to fall into bed with them too.”

I giggle. “I hope you don’t make a habit of it.”

Wes gives me a funny look, and I clamp my mouth shut as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Why did I say that? I guess it’s not any of my business if Wes sleeps with other clients. It’s not like we’ve had any kind of discussion about … whatever’s happening between us. We’re not even supposed to be sleeping together, and that was my idea, so I certainly have no right to tell him not to be with anyone else.

Even if that’s the thing I really, really, want to do.

But Wes must see the warring go on in my mind, because he shakes his head softly. “I don’t, Rori. I’m not. You’re the only one.”

You’re the only one. How many times had I dreamed of hearing those words from Wes, at one point in my life? And here he is saying them, looking at me with those panty-melting blue eyes, making my toes curl in my heels without even laying a finger on me. Is it any wonder I haven’t been able to keep up with my own agreement?

“Okay,” I say now, flushing with relief. “Me too. I mean, you too. I mean ...”

“I get it.” He grins. “Anyway, what brings you to the neighborhood?”

“What?”

“You mentioned you were in the neighborhood.”

“Oh, right. I was having breakfast with Maria Costa, and then I’m meeting with your HR Director.”

“Oh, good. Ready for Thursday’s pitch?” He grins.

I pretend to wipe my brow. “I don’t know. The pressure’s on.”

“You’re damn right it is,” he chuckles. “I expect you to wow me, after all.”

“I know. And I’ve heard you’re a hard man to wow.”

“I am. Except when it comes to you, it seems.”

My cheeks color again. “Well, then I expect our presentation is going to go spectacularly.”

He smiles at me. “I have no doubt that it is.”

There’s a moment of silence between us, but it feels easier now. There’s still a frisson of energy passing between us, but there’s something warm and comforting too. Sometimes being with Wes seems so simple.

“Hey, I meant to ask you — do you think you could take Maria for coffee sometime? Today’s her first day, and I know she’d love to meet you.”

Wes goes quiet. He looks down and shuffles through some papers, but he doesn’t really seem to be looking for anything. It feels like he’s trying to avoid meeting my eye.

“I’m not sure I can,” he says, still rifling through a stack of file folders. “I’ve got a very busy week ahead.”

“You don’t look busy,” I tease.

“I’m busy, Rori,” he snaps. “Just because I make time for you doesn’t mean I have time to spend my day hanging out shooting the breeze with anyone who crosses my path.”

“I get it,” I snip. “God. Relax. I just think it would be nice of you to have coffee with her sometime. When you aren’t so dreadfully busy, of course.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. I am busy but I’ll try to make time for her.”

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.”

I twist my fingers around in my lap, suddenly feeling awkward now. Funny how fast that changed. Wes doesn’t say anything either, so I stand up.

“I guess I should get going. I’m sure we both have lots of work to do.”

“Rori ...” He stands too, but stays behind his desk.

“No, it’s okay, Wes. Don’t worry about it.”

I turn to go, but as I reach the door I remember the styrofoam container I’ve been carrying.

“I completely forgot about this,” I say, facing him again. I set it down on his desk.

“What is it?” He asks. He doesn’t touch it.

“We were at Fran’s. I got you a piece of pie.”

“Pie?”

“Lemon meringue.”

Wes swallows, and the strangest look comes over his face.

“Lemon meringue,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to figure out what’s going on with him. “Do you like that kind?”

“I do, yeah.” His voice sounds thick. Almost ... choked up. “Thanks, Rori.”

“No problem.” I give him a quick wave and then leave his office, thinking that that was one of the stranger conversations Wes and I have ever had. Just when I think I have that guy figured out, he doubles up on the inscrutable.