"Whether they are kind when there is nothing to gain." Her eyes stayed on his face. "Is that what you look for?" Ryan smiled faintly. "I stopped looking for someone impressive a long time ago.
Now I just hope for someone kind." Emily said nothing. But for the first time that evening, she stopped wiping away her tears. And Ryan, who had come downtown expecting to meet a stranger, began to understand that the woman sitting beside him had probably been surrounded by people for years without feeling truly seen. Ryan glanced at the empty fry carton between them and smiled.
"For the record, this is still better than my original dinner." Emily looked at him with disbelief. "Sitting on concrete beside your crying boss?" "The conversation is better." "Your standards are dangerously low."
"47 minutes alone at a restaurant will do that." She laughed again, and this time the sound came easier. For several minutes, they talked about ordinary things, the kind Emily rarely discussed with anyone at WestBridge. Ryan told her that Mia had personally approved his shirt after rejecting two others. Emily admitted she had eaten lunch at her desk 4 days that week.
He told her that was terrible management. She reminded him that she was technically his boss. "Then consider it employee feedback." Emily shook her head, smiling down at her hands. The garage no longer felt quite so cold.
Then Ryan noticed something near her purse. A cream-colored envelope rested partly beneath it, carrying the familiar gold lettering of Bellini House, the same Italian restaurant he had left less than an hour earlier. "You were there tonight?" he asked. Emily followed his gaze and went completely still. "Where?"
"Bellini House." Her expression changed. "Ryan, what restaurant was your blind date at?" He frowned. "Bellini House."
"What time?" "8:00." Emily slowly reached into her purse and removed her phone. She tapped the screen several times and stared at it as though something impossible had appeared. "What?"
Ryan asked. "My assistant arranged something for me 3 weeks ago." "A reservation?" "Not exactly." Emily turned the screen toward him.
It was a message from her executive assistant sent earlier that evening. The wording was simple. "8:00, Bellini House, ask for Ryan." Ryan stared at her. "That cannot be me.
How many Ryan Mitchells were sitting alone there at 8:00 tonight?" "Hopefully several, because this is getting uncomfortable." Emily almost smiled, but confusion had overtaken the sadness in her eyes. She explained that after months of watching Emily bury herself in work, her assistant had convinced her to accept one anonymous dinner with someone described only as kind, dependable, and uninterested in status. Emily had agreed.
Then her former boyfriend had appeared unexpectedly before she could leave the office, carrying a ring and an entire future he had apparently designed without her consent. By the time she escaped the conversation, she had forgotten the dinner completely. Ryan leaned back against the concrete pillar. "So, my blind date did show up." Emily looked around the nearly empty garage.
"Technically, no. She was about 200 ft away and crying. That part was not in the profile. For one suspended second, neither knew whether to laugh or apologize. Then Emily covered her mouth and Ryan began laughing first.