Page 20 of The Lookback

He laughs. “You’re pretty impressive, but you’re not God.”

I whip out my phone. “Just for that, I’m calling Haverly and telling him?—”

He grabs my wrist. “Fine. You are god, and my family and I are both very sorry and very grateful for your condescension. Happy?”

I put my phone away. “Is that it? That’s the whole apology?”

“You were always a lot for me to handle,” he says. “I knew you were glorious, but I was also a little jealous. So when I started telling my dad about your idea, and he thought it was mine. . .” He squirms. “I’m sorry. If I were a better person, I’d have told him the truth, but in that moment, all I could think about was the fact that my dad was finally proud of something I did.”

“But he wasn’t,” I say. “It was never yours to be proud of.”

“You can’t own an idea,” he says.

“You do like to think you can trust your boyfriend not to steal yours and then dump you.” Coming here was a mistake. It’s been a long time, but I’m still angry.

“Clearly you kept your best ideas for yourself.” He picks up his hand like he’s going to try and place it on mine, but he thinks better of it, thankfully, so I don’t have to claw his eyes out. “You’ve done really, really well, Helen. Better even than anyone at HBS thought you would.”

Luckily, they bring the wine. If they hadn’t, I might have punctured the top of his foot with my stiletto as I left.

A glass or two later, I’m not nearly as angry.

“Is it true?” he asks, his cheeks a little rosy. I think he’s had even more wine than me. He’s totally the kind of guy who would try to drink more than his half of the bottle since he’s paying and it’s expensive.

Idiot.

“Is what true?” I ask. “About Vitality Plus, you mean?”

He waves his hand through the air dismissively. “No, no. I’m sure you’re totally right about that, and I trust you to make us lots of money. I meant about David.”

I freeze.

“Are you really dating that guy?” He looks at my hand, and more specifically, at the shackle on my ring finger. “Tell me that’s not some kind of bizarre engagement ring.”

“It is,” I say. “Or at least, it’s the ring he had custom designed by Tiffany’s when he proposed and I said yes.”

His mouth dangles open in a very satisfying way.

“Is it really that surprising? He’s handsome, rich, kind, and talented.”

“I’m not surprised you like him,” he says.

My hands ball into fists. “Do you really want to piss me off again?”

“Oh, I don’t mean that. Of course he’d like you. He’s always been into women who are even cooler than he is. His sister and his mom run his company, by all accounts. No, I’m surprised you’ve stayed together, because by all counts, you’re uniquely unsuited for one another.”

“Unsuited?” I sniff. “You’re really not making things better.”

The scallops and truffle egg arrive just in time to keep me from spearing him with my fork. I can’t do something like that right in front of a witness after all, and it’s so good that I calm down slightly. A moment later, the lobster bolognese comes, too, and it’s the best thing I’ve had here yet. Eating always helps me retract my claws—probably a reflex because I have to be polite to the server.

Now that I look less angry, Oliver decides to do some damage control. “All I meant is that, unless you’ve somehow changed your mind, it’s odd that Mister I-Adore-Children proposed to Miss I’ll-Never-Have-Them. That’s all I’m saying.”

“David adores children?” I blink. “Why do you say that?”

Oliver laughs, and then he laughs some more. He actually has to wipe his eyes.

When the truffle risotto comes, I wonder whether we ordered too many dishes with truffles in them, but one bite and I’m a believer. “I feel like I’m missing something,” I say. “I wasn’t making a joke. What’s so funny?”

“You weren’t?” Oliver sets his fork down.

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