Page 94 of The Comeback Summer

As I hit send, relief washes over me. But there’s sadness, too. Which, again, leaves me frustrated at my illogical feelings. There’s no reason to be sad—it’s not like I’ll never see the guy again. At the end of last night, after an awkward yet wonderful hug, we agreed that Adam would come to the office next week to hear any ideas for the restaurant.

Now I just need to think of said ideas, and find a way to get Hannah out of the office for an hour.

•••

FOUR DAYS LATER,I’m putting finishing touches on the deck for my meeting with Adam. Between working on the presentation, my training schedule, putting out an “emergency” press release about a new flavor of cream cheese at Bagelville in honor of Lollapalooza this weekend, and organizing the ticketed networking event with Suji, it’s been a busy week. And somehow, I still found time to write in my journal every single day.

I’m surprised by how much I actually enjoy it—another thing I used to say I hated even though I’d never really tried it. I have half a dozen empty diaries people have given me over the years, but having a permanent record of my life has never been appealing. Part of the reason I read so much is toescapeit.

But it turns out, writing to Lou has helped me process my feelings, to understand what she calls “the why behind the what.”

It’s a small change, and nowhere near where I’m supposed to be by this point. According to last night’s prompt, I shouldbe getting ready to transition from the comfort zone to the growth zone. But I still feel like the same old me.

“Your two o’clock is here,” Great Scott says through the interoffice intercom.

I glance at the time on my computer—Adam is fifteen minutes early. Luckily Hannah also left early for her “lunch meeting,” which I suspect is with stupid Josh.

I take a deep breath and grab my laptop before heading toward the lobby.

It’s been a week since our night at the Ninja Gym, and I’m giddy at the thought of seeing Adam. He’s been texting me every day, but he didn’t respond to the message HannahF sent for a few days. When he did, he apologized for the delay, saying he hasn’t been on the app much lately, and that he wished her all the best. That made me feel sad, and then inexplicably good.

Great Scott’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead when he sees me coming around the corner. I can see his mind making the connection between the new dress that hugs my curves instead of trying to hide them, and my meeting with Adam—who looks damn good in dark jeans and a blue button-down shirt with a worn leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” I say, giving him a quick hug. “Follow me.”

Suji gives me a wave when we walk past—she knows a little about Adam. Not the part about me fake chatting with him on behalf of my sister, but about my crush on him and how he’s hiring us to do the PR for his restaurant.

“This place is impressive,” he says as he takes it all in.

“Thanks,” I say, grateful for the people coworking here today. “It was my grandmother’s pride and joy. And this is the best spot in the office.”

I hold out my arm for him to enter the conference room, which looks over Michigan Avenue. He walks around the large table and looks out the picture window.

“Wow,” he says. “You might be a little out of my league here.”

I inhale a quick breath, taken aback—until I realize he’s talking about the caliber of our office, not me, personally. But he is impressed with me professionally, and I have a feeling he would be even if there was no one else in the office.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask, lowering my voice.

Adam leans closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne that makes my knees wobble.

“Those people out there?” I whisper, gathering myself. “They don’t work here.”

Adam looks confused.

“Well, they do work here, as in they work here, in this space, but they don’t work for me. For us. They rent their desks—like a coworking office.”

“Nice,” Adam says. “And are these one of the perks of working here?”

He nods down to the silver tray on the credenza, where I filled our crystal decanter with ice water and put out the chocolate caramel pretzel bars one of our desk renters gave me as a thank-you gift. They paid extra to use the conference room last week and ended up securing funding for their future bakery/bookstore. Based on the bars, the bakery is going to be a smash hit—and we’ll hopefully be able to manage their PR.

“Help yourself,” I tell him. “They’re from a bakery that’ll be opening in a few months.”

“Is this bakery going to sell mandel bread?” he says, his mouth quirking up in a crooked grin.

I laugh and try to suppress the little thrill that Adam and I have an inside joke.

“Should we get started?” I ask, pulling out a chair and motioning for him to take the one beside me. It’s a big room for a meeting with just the two of us, so I decided it would be better just to share my computer screen than project up on the TV. I clear my throat, trying not to think about Adam’s smile when I made it through the climbing wall, or how good his arms felt when he hugged me.

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