Page 17 of Daring Destiny
I love creating things, not crunching numbers.
At least it’s over now. I’ve parked my car on a hilly side street and I’m entering a quaint little Italian restaurant called Serafina. As always, my mind buzzes with anticipation at seeing her.
Saturday night has become my official “meeting” night with Astrid. At least if I’m in Seattle. When I’m traveling, we FaceTime, though I’d rather see her in person. She smells like peaches. Smiles like she’s perpetually on a tropical vacation. Her laugh reminds me of sleigh bells.
So, yeah. It’s definitely my favorite day of the week.
Three months ago, Astrid and I signed formation papers and founded Reuniverse. We’re now business partners and—I think—friends. It’s a new experience for me, being this comfortable around someone who isn’t family.
I trust her.
It’s exhilarating. And, terrifying.
Tonight she wanted to meet somewhere other than our usual spot, The Zoo. This quaint little restaurant, with candlelit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, is quite the step up. Romantic, even. It wouldn’t matter where we met. Honestly, I’d do anything she asks as long as it means hanging out with her.
I spot Astrid immediately, seated at a corner table, effortlessly elegant. Her blonde hair is swept back in some sort of knot, revealing the delicate curve of her neck. God, the woman is so fucking beautiful. She glances up and the second she sees me, her smile takes my breath away. Every ounce of tightness in my body loosens a little.
“Hey.” I slide into the seat across from her. “This place is a little fancier than our usual hangout.”
Astrid’s green eyes sparkle with mischief. “Thought we’d class it up a bit. You clean up well, by the way.”
“Meh.” I glance down at my clothes, dark jeans and a crisp, white button-down shirt. “Figured I’d try to look like one of the waiters. How’d I do?”
She makes a point of looking me up and down. “Not bad. I’ll stick around.”
The banter between us is always so easy. Shockingly natural at this point. We’ve settled into our own rhythm and we talk or text almost every day, whether it’s about the latest developments with Reuniverse or sharing random thoughts as they pop into our heads.
She’s becoming my best friend. Something I never expected. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it because I’m so wildly attracted to her.
We order a bottle of wine and, as we catch up, I find myself more relaxed than I’ve been in days. The pressure I’m under is always so intense. But here, with Astrid, it’s like I can finally breathe.
“So, how’s everything going with our coders?” Astrid swirls her wine. “Are they driving you crazy with their late-night texts?”
I roll my eyes at the mention of the nickname for the guys we hired in India. “Fuck, yeah, mostly because the time difference is killer. They’re killer at what they do butslowwwwww. We’re making progress, though. Still on track.”
“That’s what I like to hear. We’ve got a cool thing going, Brennan. I’m glad we’re doing this together.” She clinks her glass against mine.
“Me too.” Working on Reuniverse has been such a pleasant distraction from the chaos of my other company. No one looks over my shoulder. No one questions every fucking thing I do. “It’s been great having you handle the day-to-day stuff. I’m not sure how I’d manage without you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re the brains behind this operation.” Astrid winks.
I shake my head, laughing softly. “Seriously, you’re the best.”
“Awww, did I just get a compliment?” She leans in, lowering her voice. “Truth is, we make a great team.”
For a moment, I’m caught off guard by how much her words mean to me.
Because I like being part of a team, for a change.
I like having a copilot.
Reuniverse isn’t about building a business, it’s about working on a cool project with Astrid. Over late-night texts. Video calls. These Saturday meetings.
In a few short months, Astrid has become my favorite person. It scares the hell out of me, but I’m rolling with it.
The server places our plates in front of us and we fall into a contented silence as we devour our pasta. I overhear the man at the table next to us order a whiskey and tension permeates my body as memories from last night flood back. My eyes flick to him and his glass and Astrid, who’s become attuned to my moods, notices.
“You okay?” She touches the top of my hand gently.