[EMY]
The next thing I knew, I was sitting in an expensive restaurant that looked like a jewelry box ate a bank.
Crystal chandeliers. White tablecloths so crisp I was afraid to breathe near them. A violinist in the corner who kept glancing at me like he sensed drama approaching and wanted a front-row seat.
Across from me sat Vince, all smooth suit and smoother smile—the kind of smile that said: Relax. Also, sign your life away.
I told myself I was here because I was brave, composed, and emotionally unshakeable. Also me: clutching my phone under the table like a panic button.
"It's been a while," he said, voice warm in a way a fireplace is warm right before it burns the house down.
"It has," I replied, equally warm, like tea that could scald your whole soul.
We did small talk. The weather. The industry. My life now. He steered the conversation like a patient chauffeur, and I dodged like a pedestrian with nine lives.
