Page 23 of Instigator

“I’m in Back Bay.”

My little enclave is ritzy. Expensive. A lot of old money, a fair bit of new money. I don’t fit in here. But I don’t know that I fit in anywhere, really. At least for now, this is home.

He exhales heavily. “Wow. That’s… close.”

“Like two or three miles.”

“Do you…” He pauses.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be interested in meeting up sometime? Maybe have lunch?”

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. Maybe we can be friends, real friends, in person.

“Yeah, Wish. I’d like that a lot.”

“There’s this little bistro on State Street I like to go to sometimes,” he says. “Olde Boston Public House. Do you know it?”

My heart stops. “That’s my favorite place.”

He clears his throat. “Really?”

“I told you, I’m obsessed with their harvest bowl.”

A gusty sigh blows from his lips. “Then we’re going to meet. And you’ll get your harvest bowl.”

“How will I know it’s you?”

“How about this. I’ll wear a blue tie, and you wear a blue sweater. We’ll match.”

I laugh. “Somehow, I can’t picture you in a tie.”

“I’ll have you know, I wear a suit and tie to work every day.”

“Really?”

“They relaxed the dress code, but I still like it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something important. That what we do means something.”

“It does. Of course it does.”

He hums, clearly not believing me.

“When do you want to meet?”

“I’m busy all day tomorrow,” he says after a moment. “Does Thursday work for you? I can get away for dinner.”

Butterflies flutter deep in my belly, and I press my hand to my stomach, as if I can feel them fluttering away. I’m going to meet Wish. My best friend for the last seven years.

“I’d like that,” I whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

ten

. . .

Aidan

Melissa is a beautiful woman. She’s driven and committed to her work, she volunteers with a local food bank, and she has her shit together.