Page 41 of Love You, Mean It

“You were friends with Maritza?” She was two years above me, something of a golden god in the theater-kid scene, friendly even to freshmen, with a killer voice and genuine acting ability. She wasalwayscast as a lead.

“We dated for almost a year when I was a sophomore. And stayed friends after.”

“Oh.” I tried to process this. Dating Bella was easily explained—she’d never been popular, but she was unfailingly sweet, and pretty enough that a toe in the water of “girls presumed not to be on the Trip-Taylor-crew radar” made sense. But Maritza, while attractive, was very obviouslyweird.She sang show tunes aloud during passing time, usually with accompanying choreography, and had a tendency toward accessories that looked like they’d been made by a kindergartner (I still remembered the soda-tab necklace she’d spatter-painted with nail polish). If she didn’t wind up pursuing acting, it would be easy to imagine her finding her calling as an elementary school art teacher.

Theo’s look of mild amusement made me feel like he could see every thought moving through my head.

“Well, I was. A theater kid, I mean. I just happened to be one of the mole people with no interest in the spotlight.”

“Clearly you knew your strengths.”

We both leaned back as the next two dishes appeared, with an elaborate explanation from Jaden.

“Are you still trying to break in? To costuming, I mean?” Theo shifted a pile of little gem lettuce and about twenty-five other accent items onto his plate.

“It’s been…on hold since I got back.”

One eyebrow shot up. He didn’t have to say what we were both thinking:That was five years ago.

“Don’t you miss it?” Theo finally said.

I stabbed a few leaves aggressively. OfcourseI missed it. Did hethink weighing pasta salad and flipping through catalogs of specialty canned goods with distributors and mixing up the same sauces and side dishes week in and week outfulfilledme?

But then…why wouldn’t he? Occasionally—specifically when I’d had a drink too many—I was able to admit to myself that, mixed in with the grief and shock and anger after Dad died, there had been a significant amount of relief. I didn’t have to keep trying to do this thing that I couldn’t seem to crack no matter how many ways I came at it, didn’t have to keep baring myself to strangers armed with the razor-sharp blade ofno,didn’t have to force myself to build up yet another layer of emotional scar tissue, then rally and do it all again. I missed the feeling I got when I had areallyamazing idea for a garment, the barest wisps of a design spinning out of my head into this beautifulrealthing, like fairy-tale magic. But I didn’t miss the constant pendulum swings of intense hope and grief shot through with shame, the motion more nauseating every time. The deli wasn’t challenging, it wasn’t creative, but it wassafe. Or it had been until Mangia breached the surface of Milborough like some Leviathan of old.

All of that was definitely too much underbelly to showanyone,let alone this relative stranger sitting across from me playing pretend, so I settled on the explanation I’d given my New York friends, the one I’d tried for five years to convince myself of but never quite managed to:

“Some of us wind up in the family business by choice, some of us wind up there because we have to.”

I dropped my eyes to my plate, focusing on the za’atar croutons so I wouldn’t have to catch Theo’s eyes, afraid I might find disbelief there, or worse, pity.

“Trust me,thatI understand,” Theo muttered.

“Really?” I frowned at a tiny edible flower, not quite believingit.

“You’ve met Ted. You really think I wanted to work for him?”

“I mean…it’s not like things would go under if you didn’t.”

“That’s not the only version of obligation,” Theo said, voice low.

Now it was my turn to stare.

“So…why, then? I have to believe you had other options.”

His jaw worked like he was physically chewing over my question.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me. For one thing, it would make this whole ‘Help Ellie try to keep Mangia out of Milborough’ stance easier to trust if I knewwhyyou’d be willing to go against Ted. Fuck, against your own interests. You must stand to make more money if the deal goes through.”

“You don’t need to know why to trust me, just that youcantrust me.” Theo’s gaze hardened. “And believe it or not, money isn’t my sole motivating factor.”

“That might be true, but I don’t actually know you, which makes it pretty hard to take your word for it.” I folded my arms over my chest, glaring. “I told you how I ended up here. The very least you could do is show me the same courtesy. If for no other reason than knowing more than the crib sheet version of each other’s lives can only help this thing work.”

He stared at me for a few long seconds, then sighed, the sharp lines of his handsome face sagging under the weight of some unspoken pain.

“I started working for the company right out of college,” Theo started, voice low and rough. He twisted his rocks glass slowly as he spoke. “I realized it was…not the best fit about nine months later.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a suggestion of a wry smile that didn’t quite fulfill its promise. “I’d hoped that if I worked my way up the ladder—Ted was imposing a half-assed version of the ‘learn the whole business from the inside out’ regimen, but he was too impatient to check out himself to leave me doing menial work for long—I’d have a chance to putmyideas into play. But it became clearer and clearer that the actual plan was for me to stand in for his way of thinking.”

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