Love’s Game

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"Where is my left shoe?"

I looked under the sofa, my fingers brushing against dust and a stray coin.

"Good morning," Chloe called out from the doorway. She leaned against the frame, arms crossed, wearing a dress that looked far too professional for a Tuesday.

Paige stepped in behind her, clutching a textbook to her chest. "You look beautiful, Andrea. Truly."

"I look like I haven't slept since the nineties," I muttered, sliding the shoe on.

"Nonsense," Paige said. "You've got that 'tragic but chic' vibe. It's very Parisian."

"Stop it," I said, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "I just need to get to the shop. I can't keep the customers waiting for a 'mental health' closure any longer."

"The shop will survive," Chloe said, stepping forward to straighten my collar. "The customers love you. They probably think you're off on a mystical retreat in the Hamptons."

"I'm off to fight with a wholesaler who thinks shipping costs are a suggestion," I sighed.

"That's the spirit!" Chloe cheered. "Now, move. I have a boss who thinks 'urgent' means 'do it yesterday,' and Paige has to pretend she understands macroeconomics."

"I actually do understand it," Paige whispered.

"Shh," Chloe whispered back. "Don't ruin the brand."

***

Ray adjusted his cufflinks, the silver catching the morning light. He stared at his reflection, his expression a mask of bored indifference.

"The car is ready, Mr. Smith," Jane said, standing by the door.

"Is the schedule still a disaster?" Ray asked.

"Worse. The board members moved their meeting up an hour."

"Of course they did."

Ray stepped into the backseat of the sleek black sedan. As Jane pulled away from the curb, Ray’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Richard.

He swiped to answer.

"Tell me you're not already in the building," Richard’s voice boomed, sounding far too energetic for eight in the morning.

"I'm five minutes away. Why?"

"Because I’ve decided that office lunch is a crime against humanity. I can't look at another soggy wrap from the cafeteria without losing my will to live."

"I have work, Richard."

"You have a company that runs itself and a brother who is far too productive. You need a hobby. Specifically, a hobby that involves a three-course meal at that bistro on 5th."

"I'm not arguing with you today."

"Is that a yes? I'm taking that as a yes. I'll book the table for one."

"One?"

"One for me. You're paying."

Ray leaned his head back against the leather seat. "I hate you."

"just joking, and You love me. I'm the only person in this city who isn't terrified of your scowl. See you at one!"

The line went dead. Ray looked at Jane through the rearview mirror.

"He's a menace," Ray stated.

"He's your best friend, sir," Jane replied.

"A distinction without a difference."

***

"Hello?"

"Drop everything!" Chloe’s voice shrieked through the phone.

I winced, pulling the device away from my ear. "What happened? Is the building on fire?"

"Better! Mr. Thomas had a total meltdown over a misplaced file, canceled his afternoon meeting, and told me to go eat since I'm already there. He even told me to take a 'long lunch' on the company dime!"

"Wait, really?" I asked.

"Yes! Now, get your gorgeous self over to the bistro. Paige is already on her way."

"I have an inventory list to finish," I said, looking at the stack of papers on my desk.

"The inventory will be there tomorrow. Free gourmet food disappears in ten minutes. Move, Andrea! Move!"

"Fine! I'm coming!"

I hung up and breathed. The air in the shop felt heavy, smelling of old paper and vanilla candles. I locked the door, the click of the bolt sounding like a liberation.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the scent of garlic and expensive butter hit me instantly. Chloe was already waving her arms like she was directing a plane onto a runway.

"Over here! I already ordered the calamari!" she shouted.

I slid into the booth next to Paige.

"You actually made it," Paige smiled.

"Chloe threatened me with a long-distance relationship if I didn't show up," I joked.

"I would do it," Chloe said, pointing a fork at me. "I'd move to France just to spite you. I can already hear myself saying 'Ooh la la' while eating a baguette."

"You already say that here," I replied.

"It's called commitment to the craft," she countered.

"So," Paige said, her voice softening. "How are you feeling today? Truly?"

I paused, my hand hovering over the water glass. I thought of the empty room in my house. I thought of the silence where Grandma Mia’s laughter used to be.

"I'm... okay," I said. "Some moments are better than others."

"We've got you," Chloe said, her dramatic tone vanishing for a split second. "Always."

"I know," I whispered. "Thank you."

"Anyway!" Chloe pivoted, her energy returning in a flash. "Let's talk about something more important. Did you see the new exhibit at the Met? I feel like we need a girls' trip. Or at least a girls' afternoon where we pretend we're art critics."

"I'd love that," Paige said.

"I can probably manage that," I added, feeling a genuine lightness in my chest. "As long as Chloe doesn't try to critique the actual security guards."

"They were standing too rigidly!" Chloe defended. "It was an affront to the flow of the room."

I laughed, the sound feeling foreign but welcome. I leaned back, scanning the room. The bistro was packed with the usual New York crowd—power suits, hurried whispers, and the clinking of crystal.

Then, the door opened.

A man stepped inside. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire shop. He moved with a composed, arrogant grace, his eyes scanning the room with a cold precision.

My heart didn't just skip a beat; it stopped entirely.

The air in my lungs turned to ice. My grip tightened on the tablecloth, wrinkling the white linen.

"Andrea?" Paige asked, noticing my sudden rigidity. "You've gone pale. Are you okay?"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

"Andrea?" Chloe asked, following my gaze.

He was walking toward a table in the center of the room, flanked by a loud man who was gesturing wildly.

"Him," I breathed.