TWO | SYLVIE
1209 Words
Brooklyn Batman had crossed the room. How wonderful. My dignity immediately packed its bags and left.
His gaze moved from Emily to me and back again. "Were you just calling me Brooklyn Batman?"
Emily didn't even blink. "Possibly."
I buried my face in my hands.
The man laughed. A warm, genuine sound that made something flutter unexpectedly in my stomach.
"Oh, that's brutal."
Emily pointed to herself. "In my defense, we considered several options."
"There were options?"
"Many."
"I don't know if I should be concerned."
"You should be honored."
His eyes shifted to me. "And what was your vote?"
The look in his eyes made my pulse stumble. I cleared my throat. "I voted against all nicknames."
"Smart."
"I try."
"Not hard enough seeing as I’m now Brooklyn Batman."
I laughed. “The board needs to revisit that.”
He grinned. “I’m good as long as it keeps a gorgeous woman’s eyes on me all night.”
And just like that, I was a flustered mess.
Emily looked between us and then stood.
I glared at her. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom." She grabbed her purse. "Have fun, kids." She winked at me and then she disappeared into the bar.
Traitor. Absolute traitor.
The man slid into her empty seat. "Your friend seems nice."
"She's a menace."
"Those are usually the same thing."
I smiled. "Fair."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. And somehow it wasn't awkward. Which was strange because I didn't know this man. Yet sitting across from him felt oddly comfortable.
"So," he said. "Do I get your real name, or should I call you Batwoman?"
I gave a small laugh. "Sylvie."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Sylvie." The way he said it sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. Like my name had suddenly become something worth savoring.
"And you?"
He offered his hand. "Jon."
I slipped my hand into his. His grip was warm and steady. Mine probably wasn't but my mind was too consumed by this man to find the reason for that. "It's nice to meet you, Jon."
"You too."
His smile returned.
The energy between us was palpable. If I stuck my arm out I’d probably get electrified. The kind of energy that appears out of nowhere and immediately acts like it owns the room.
"So, what brings you here?" he asked, leaning forward.
"Impending doom."
Concern flickered across his face. "That bad?"
I laughed softly. "Business problems."
"Tell me about it?"
Normally, I didn’t enjoy talking about my work and business struggles when I was stressed and especially not to a handsome stranger that I met about five minutes ago. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or Jon’s disarming presence but tonight, somehow, the words came easily.
I found myself telling him about the company I'd built from the ground up, and with every detail came memories I usually kept buried beneath deadlines and spreadsheets. I thought about the tiny apartment kitchen where it all began—jars, ingredients, handwritten notes, and endless failed experiments covering every surface. Back then, success seemed simple. Work hard enough, sacrifice enough, and eventually things would fall into place.
For a while, they did.
Cloudberry started as a passion project and grew into a real business. Customers came, then more customers. Opportunities followed. Emily joined me and helped turn the chaos into something sustainable.
But growth brought new challenges. Manufacturing costs increased, marketing became expensive, and every opportunity required money we didn't yet have. We were stuck between being too successful to stay small and too small to expand.
Investor meetings became a constant part of my life, as did rejection. Some liked the products but not the market. Others liked the market but wanted more growth. Every rejection chipped away at me.
As I spoke, Jon listened with an attentiveness that felt surprisingly rare. He wasn't checking his phone. He wasn't scanning the room. He wasn't waiting for an opening to redirect the conversation back to himself.
He simply listened. And somehow that made it easier to keep talking. By the time I finished, some of the pressure I'd been carrying all evening felt lighter.
he leaned back slightly. "You built all that yourself?"
"With Emily."
"Still." Something warm settled in his expression. "That's impressive."
The compliment hit harder than it should have. Maybe because it sounded sincere. Maybe because lately I'd spent so much time hearing what wasn't working that I'd forgotten how much we'd already accomplished.
"Thanks." I tapped my glass. "And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"What do you do?"
Something unreadable flickered across his face. "A little bit of everything."
I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds suspicious."
"It is."
"You aren't going to elaborate?"
"No."
I laughed. "Why?"
"Because mystery is important."
"That's ridiculous."
"I know."
The conversation flowed from there. Hours seemed to disappear. We talked about our favourite foods, travel, music, and movies.
At one point, I caught him watching me with a look that made my pulse speed up for reasons I didn't want to examine too closely. The strangest part was how easy it all felt. Like we'd known each other longer than a few hours. Every topic naturally led to another. Like neither of us wanted the night to end.
Eventually, though, Jon glanced at his watch. "Damn. I have to go."
Disappointment hit me immediately. Which was concerning considering we'd only met tonight. "Oh."
He smiled softly. "That's a good sign."
"What is?"
"You sound disappointed."
Heat crawled up my neck. "I do not."
"You absolutely do."
I rolled my eyes.
He laughed and reached for a napkin. A pen appeared from somewhere inside his pants pocket. A moment later he slid the napkin across the table. A phone number now written across it.
I looked up.
"Call me."
The confidence should have annoyed me, instead, it made my heart skip. "You're assuming I want to."
"You do."
I laughed. "That's bold."
His grin widened. "I'm right, though."
Unfortunately, he was. I folded the napkin carefully and slipped it into my purse.
For a second neither of us moved. The noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background.
Then he stood. "It was nice meeting you, Sylvie."
"It was nice meeting you too."
His gaze lingered for a moment and then he turned and disappeared toward the exit. Somehow the entire room felt quieter.
Emily reappeared almost immediately. Which meant she'd absolutely been spying. "Well?"
I looked toward the door. A smile tugged at my lips.
"He left his number."
Emily’s eyes widened and she gave me an impressed look
The ride home was filled with relentless teasing and Emily reassuring me that although the business was struggling, it was important for me to have a shoulder to cry on—or a shoulder to put my legs on—and a little fun was needed to keep me sane as we worked through our financial issues.
The next morning was an entirely different story. After going through my inbox, the realization fully dawned on me. For the first time since starting the company, one terrifying possibility became impossible to ignore.
If we didn't find funding soon, there might not be a company left to save.
- Writer
