“Oh my god, Abby.” She laughs and shakes her head. “This is why we shouldn’t have any secrets. I could have fixed your thinking long ago.”
The boys join us after we snack at LAMILL, and we spend the evening walking the neighborhood hills. When we reach a particular landing, even cool as hell Trevor has to admit the view of the city below is pretty breathtaking.
“Don’t hit me,” Jax whispers to me. “But I wish your girl was here to take a picture of this.”
I guess I still believe a little in secrets, though, because I don’t tell him that I’m wishing the same thing.
CHAPTER 26
Maggie emails me on Tuesday night that she’s taking me out to lunch the next day so that I won’t bring any “bread-free leftovers” from home. I barely sleep because I assume Jordi will be there too or I’m finding out earlier than expected that her decision’s been made about the fall job.
But when one o’clock rolls around on Wednesday afternoon, Maggie pulls me aside on my own.
“Ready to head down?” she asks quietly, and I nod. We make our way down the block to Bon Vivant. I examine the menu, but Maggie practically has her face pressed up to the glass of the pastry case.
“How many macarons do you think you could eat in one sitting?” she asks, and I’m so surprised at the question that I laugh. “Every flavor here, for sure. Perhaps two of every flavor.”
“The weird thing is that even though I eat against my mom’s beliefs all the time, I really can only eat so many sweets now,” I say. “But macarons are so light and perfect. Maybe I could eat all of them, too.”
“I actually made one of your mom’s recipes the other night,” Maggie says. “I started to worry that with all my stress this summer over the fall line and of course my ex moving out that Sam was going to think all food came from a delivery guy.”
“Which recipe?” I ask. “And was it good?”
“It was a coconut chicken salad,” she says. “And it was honestly really good. But then we ate ice cream for dessert, so does that still count?”
We step up to order, and then Maggie looks over every empty table before settling on one right in the middle of the restaurant. I think back to lunch with her our very first day of work, and if magic were real, I’d will myself back there right this second.
I guess if magic were real, a lot of things would be different.
“Before you worry this is going to be some big talk,” Maggie says, “I want you to know I haven’t made my decision for the fall yet.”
I nod.
“And, honestly, I hate this,” she continues. “If there was a way that I could hire you both, I would. Absolutely. Please know that, okay? No matter how this works out.”
“So Jordi’s getting the job?” I ask. “Or it’s at least leaning that way?”
“No, no, no,” Maggie says. “I truly am undecided until after we talk, Abby. And then probably even for a while longer.”
“Jordi should get the job,” I say, because it feels like the right thing to say.
“Really,” Maggie says, her voice full of surprise.
“Really. Her photos are amazing. And she works really hard.”
“You work just as hard,” Maggie says. “And you must know how great you are on, you know, all of our social media. You come up with strategies. You know I’m too old to know what I’m doing there, Abby.”
I shrug. I don’t even know why I’m saying what I’m saying. Obviously I have strategies. I could write an essay about my Lemonberry contributions.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you girls.” Maggie raises her eyebrows. “Because this is just how my talk with Jordi went, too.”
“Jordi said I should get the job?”
Maggie sighs and takes a sip of her iced tea. “Is there something I should know?”
Well, Maggie, I thought I was finally going to get my epic love story, but instead everything fell apart. And I don’t trust Jordi anymore but I don’t know if that’s right of me, and all I want is for things to be okay again and not to feel like I’m missing a part of me that I didn’t even know I had.
“No,” I say. “I just think that Jordi deserves it more. That’s all.”
“Okay,” she says. “Abby, I know that I’m your boss, and that I’m one trillion years old, but … do you need to talk about anything?”
“You’re not one trillion years old,” I say, even though I’m not certain of Maggie’s precise age. She’s definitely younger than my parents, and even they aren’t a trillion. “And no. I might have been unfair to Jordi about something and … and I just don’t think she should have anything else bad happen to her.”
“Okay,” Maggie says, and suddenly her voice is drenched in kindness. I wish it were appropriate to throw my arms around her and cry. “We can talk about something else now.”
“Thank god,” I say, which makes Maggie burst into laughter.
“Promise me, okay, that if Jordi ends up with the job, that you’ll still keep in touch with me?” Maggie smiles right at me, even as a waiter drops off our food. “I’m really invested in knowing how your future turns out.”
Something settles over me, and for once it isn’t anxiety or a million questions to ask. I feel myself smile. “I’m pretty invested in that, too.”
When I get home, the living room looks halfway organized, and Mom’s sitting in the kitchen with a man her age who looks vaguely familiar. I assume he’s been on her segment on the news or might be from Food Network. Considering that I overhear a few words like nutrition and branded content and gluten-free, my guess seems to be correct.
“Honey, come on in,” Mom calls to me, which is unusual for a business meeting. I’m wearing one of my less crazy dresses—solid
