I stopped talking because the glazed-over look in Paisley’s eyes cut through my usual obliviousness. I knew that look. It either meant she didn’t understand what I was talking about, or she didn’t care.
I got that look a lot, and I’d learned to shut up when I noticed it.
“Hmm,” she said when I didn’t continue. “You said mostly great. Why not all great?”
Shrugging, I took another bite. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to talk to her about Hazel. I could have. Who didn’t have a frustrating coworker? Paisley would probably commiserate with me. But I had the weirdest feeling that if Paisley said anything bad about Hazel, I’d get mad. Just the thought of it made my back clench and my shoulders tighten.
“It’s just work,” I said finally. “You know.”
“Do I ever. I don’t know why I ever thought working for lawyers would be a good idea. I know I’m just the receptionist, but I work hard and deserve respect like anyone else.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’m pretty sure the wife of one of the partners is trying to get me fired.”
“That sucks. Why would she do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, she just hates me. So do the other women in my office.”
“You don’t get along with any of the women in your office?”
“Not really. But I’m used to it. I’ve never had a lot of girlfriends. Except for Molly. I don’t mean to sound conceited, but women are usually jealous of me.”
She did sound conceited, but I decided to keep my mouth shut about it.
“That’s too bad.”
My fork hit the bottom of the cardboard container. I’d inhaled the entire heaping portion of meatballs. Oops. I’d meant to leave one or two for my sister. I’d have to make it up to her later.
“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Paisley curled the end of her ponytail around her finger. “They’re just gossipy bitches anyway.”
I tapped my foot beneath the table. Where was Molly? How long was I going to have to stay here? Now that I was no longer in danger of immediate starvation, I didn’t particularly want to be in Paisley’s apartment.
What was Hazel doing this weekend? I’d overheard her say something about a wedding. Had she brought a date?
God, why was I thinking about her all of a sudden?
But really, what was she doing? Probably having adventurous sex with someone.
“Are you okay?”
I startled, looking up at Paisley. “Yeah. Why?”
“You just looked like maybe you were upset about something for a second.”
“No, I’m good.” I grabbed the remnants of my meal and held up the fork. “Do you want me to wash this?”
“That’s okay, just put it in the sink.” She paused, still twirling her ponytail. “So Corban, do you want to—”
Whatever Paisley was about to say got cut off by a knock at the door.
“Good, that’s probably Molly.” I tossed my to-go container in the garbage and answered the door.
Molly looked like a less nerdy, female version of me. Same dark hair, although hers was cut in a chin-length bob that she kept tucked behind her ears. Same brown eyes, but no glasses. Same nose, similar mouth. No one ever doubted we were related.
“You didn’t save me any meatballs, did you?” Her white t-shirt said baby bump in swirly black letters, and she rested her hands on her belly. She’d gotten bigger since the last time I’d seen her. Or rather, the baby had, stretching her body with it.
I winced. “I was hungry.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed past me. “Hey, Paisley.”
“Hi, Moll. Oh my god, look at you.” She got up and hugged my sister.
Molly’s husband, Martin Tan, strode in behind her with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He’d been born in Singapore, but his family had moved to the States when he was a baby. We’d gone to college together, which was how he’d met Molly. He was a data nerd like me, only infinitely cooler—good-looking, well-dressed, and funny. More like Molly.
“Hey, man,” he said with a nod when he walked in.
“You can just let me into my place.” I couldn’t explain it, but I had a rapidly growing urge to get out of Paisley’s apartment. I went into the kitchen and grabbed my groceries. “I have cold stuff I need to put away, so…”
“Okay, okay,” Molly said. “Maybe I’d be moving a little faster if you’d saved me some meatballs, but whatever.”
“Do you need me to run down there and get you meatballs, baby?” Martin asked.
Molly scrunched her nose. “Would you mind? It sounds so good.”
He smiled. Placing his hand on her belly, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “What my baby wants, my baby gets. I’ll be right back.”
“Why don’t you guys just hang out here?” Paisley asked. “Martin can grab dinner for everyone, and I’ll open a bottle of wine.”
Molly glanced at her husband. “That sounds good to me if you don’t mind. And since I can’t drink the wine, would you pick me up something yummy and pregnancy-friendly?”
“Sure.”
I really needed to find a way to nope out of this. I’d been around people all day. I might have overcome the worst of my shyness, but I was still an introvert. I needed downtime.
“You guys go ahead, but I’m going to head home. I have some work stuff I need to do.”
“On a Saturday night?” Molly asked. “Come on, Corban.”
“Maybe another time.” I kept inching for the door.
Molly gave an exaggerated sigh. She reached into her pocket and pulled out my spare key. “Fine. Here’s your key, you big loner.”
I shifted my groceries so I could take the key.
“Oh, you know what you should do?” Molly asked, moving the key just out of my reach. “Get a copy of your key for Paisley. Then next time you lock yourself out, you won’t have to call me to get back in.”
“I’ll get a copy made while I’m out.” Martin took the key from his wife. “Let’s go. I’ll let you in your place on my way out.”
“That’s a great idea,” Paisley said. “I’ll give you a copy of mine, too. It seems silly that we haven’t done that already.”
“Okay, sure.”
I said goodbye to my sister and followed Martin out the door. He let me into my apartment and sure enough, my keys were right there on the table. I rolled my eyes. Figured. I didn’t know why I did things like that. But it was nice of my sister to bail me out—again. I just felt like a dork for still needing it. You’d think I’d have gotten the hang of this adulting thing by now.
I could analyze complex data sets or write a sophisticated algorithm that accounted for hundreds of different variables to match potential romantic partners, but I couldn’t remember my keys.
I was kind of hopeless.
12
Corban
“The demand to be loved is the greatest of all arrogant presumptions.” ~ Friedrich Nietzche