“OK,” I say at last, “This, my friend, is officially bizarre.”
“I guess it sort of is,” Emerson laughs, more than happy to acknowledge the strangeness of our reunion. “But, what good thing in life isn’t a little surreal? I say we run with it.”
A perfect martini materializes before me. I thank the server, pluck up the cocktail, and hold up my glass in a toast.
“Well, happy birthday, Emerson,” I say, “I hope you enjoy your one night of being older than me as much as you did when we were kids.”
“Oh, I think I will,” he smiles, clinking his glass to mine.
I take a sip of my drink and freeze, savoring the mind-blowing deliciousness of it. This is top-shelf vodka. The kind that ought to be kept in a safe. A drink like this must cost a fortune. And this is Emerson’s usual?
“So, I guess the past eight years have treated you well?” I ask, stunned by the fineness of the liquor.
“I’ve done OK for myself,” Emerson nods.
“Well, since there’s no elegant segue to be found here, start from the beginning,” I tell him, “How’s your life been, Tank?”
“Oof,” he cringes, “Using my old lacrosse nickname? Harsh.”
“Yeah, well. Old age has hardened me,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. “Now spill!”
“OK, OK,” Emerson says, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, when we last saw each other, shit was going down in flames. Mom had just relapsed, obviously, and I had just...well...”
“Kicked the shit out of grade-A douchebag and gotten expelled,” I finish his thought.
“That would be correct,” Emerson nods. “Mom and I picked up and left. We landed at her sister’s place in Pennsylvania for a minute. We got Mom into rehab, and I found a little apartment outside of Philly. Nice town, you know. I didn’t do much for the next year except visit my mom, take odd jobs to pay rent, and tool around on the computer. I don’t think you knew this about me in high school, but I’ve always been kind of a tech nerd. I became fascinated with programming, data, building things that other people could use.
I got my GED, and told myself I’d take a year to learn some more about programming before applying to college. I took some courses in the city, and found out that I was pretty damn good at the whole thing. The app craze was only just about to take off as I put together my first real project. With a little bit of luck, and a whole lot of venture capital backing, the thing took off. I sold my app, made a ton. Overnight, everything was different. So instead of going to college, I just kept building, and thinking, and meeting new people. Eventually, I ran into Cooper, and he all but handed the European offices of Bastian to me on a silver platter. I’ve been there for a couple of years, and it’s been amazing.”
“So you’re telling me that you went from bad boy jock to tech millionaire?” I ask, staring at him across the table.
“Close,” he says, unable to contain his proud but modest smile. “I went from bad boy jock to tech billionaire.”
My eyes go wide as I try to comprehend the thing he’s just told me. Emerson’s smile fades as I sit silently beside him.
“Sorry, was that a total asshole move?” he asks, frowning, “I don’t know what I was thinking, just bringing that up—”
“No, Emerson,” I say quickly, reaching for his hand before I can stop myself. “It’s amazing. I’m just so, so proud of you.”
In unison, we glance down at our now-clasped hands on the table. Bashful as ever, I lift my fingers away. My skin tingles where it glanced against his. As if I didn’t have enough reason to be nervous around him before, now it turns out that he’s not only my long-lost first love, but also a goddamn billionaire?
This is shaping up to be quite a week, I’ll tell you.
“But...what about you?” Emerson says, breaking the pointed silence, “How did things play out for you?”
“Well,” I begin, taking a nice big sip of my drink. “From the point of our parents’ disastrous one-day marriage, my dad totally wiped out. Relapsed harder than ever. Really just never recovered. My grandparents took me in until high school was over, and then I moved to the city to study at The New School with Riley. We’ve been living together ever since, in this great place my grandparents own...Ugh. Sorry. I sound like such a mooch.”
“No, not at all,” Emerson assures me, “You’ve got to use the resources you have, right?”
“I’ll take that,” I smile. “What else...I studied graphic design and digital media, got my masters, and voila! Here I am.”
“Design, huh? So you still get to be an artist,” he says, his eyes resting warmly on my face. I smile, touched that he’s remembered my childhood passion.
“In a way, yes,” I reply. “And I guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of my work soon, what with your kind of being my boss and all.”
“I’m your colleague, not your boss,” Emerson insists.
“Uh-huh. Sure,” I tease, “Whatever you say, boss.”
“Careful, lackey,” he shoots back, jumping on my joke, “Or I’ll have to dock your pay.”
“Ooh, I’m shaking in my panties,” I snicker. My cheeks flame red as I realize that it’s taken me all of five minutes to bring my panties into the conversation.
“Relax,” Emerson chuckles, seeing my face. “This isn’t Courtney Haines’ house party. I’m not gonna make you hand them over or anything. Unless you really want to.”
“Duly noted,” I tell him, all but swigging my martini.
“I hear she’s on Broadway now,” Emerson goes on, glancing down at his drink.
“Really,” I say, feeling an old trill of jealousy run through me as I remember the redheaded beauty who snagged Emerson’s attention all those years ago.
“Yeah. Almost won a Tony and everything,” Emerson says, plucking up his olive and popping it into his mouth. “Maybe I should call her up and see how she’s doing?”
I’m about to say something polite and change the subject, until I see the look in Emerson’s gorgeous blue eyes.
“Are you baiting me, Sawyer?” I ask.
“Is it working, Rowan?” he winks.
“You’re terrible,” I inform him, relieved that he wasn’t serious about Courtney.