No, it doesn't feel like anything, she exhaled. None of them do. The one in New York is closest because that's where the company started. But even that's just it's a place I store myself between being places I need to be. Come to dinner.
She blinked. What? Tomorrow, Saturday? Ava's been asking to make her grandma chicken and rice, which is above her ability to execute alone and mine to execute competently. Come for dinner, Caleb.
It's dinner in an apartment with a 7-year-old who will absolutely take over the cooking and a man who will try to help and mostly be corrected. It's not. I'm not asking you to decide anything. I'm asking you to come eat food in a place that feels like something. She was very still.
You're not worried about the line? Yes, I am. I'm also worried about a lot of other things, his voice was even. I'm worried about you sitting on that office floor. I'm worried about the fact that you've been carrying something heavy for a long time and you're very good at making it look light.
I'm worried about being the wrong kind of selfish at the wrong time. I worry about most things simultaneously and do them anyway because that's what my life requires. She pressed her fingers against her eyes. I'll think about it, she said. Okay, Caleb.
Yeah, thank you for answering both times. A pause. Warm, careful. Go home, Natalie. She went home.
She stared at the very good furniture. She texted him at midnight. What time is dinner? He replied in 3 minutes. 6.
Ava says to come hungry and prepared to follow instructions. She set her phone down. She looked at the ceiling of an apartment she'd owned for 2 years and spent 8 days a month in. She smiled. She showed up at 5:55 because she was constitutionally incapable of being late. stood in front of a door in a Silver Spring apartment building with a bottle of wine she wasn't sure was appropriate and a small bunch of flowers she was almost certain were too much and stood there for 20 full seconds before knocking.
The door opened immediately. Ava stood on the other side in an apron that was approximately three times her size, belted at the waist with what appeared to be a piece of twine, holding a wooden spoon with the authority of someone who had been waiting. You're early. I'm exactly on time. We said 6:00.
It's 5:55. Ava considered this. You can come in, but you have to wash your hands before you touch anything. Understood. She stepped inside.