Chapter 1 - Freshly Single
«I’m not fragile,» Avery said, before I’d even managed to introduce myself.
Rachel had just set a hand on the back of her chair. «I was going to say this is Daniel.»
«Then we’re both ahead of schedule.» Avery held out her hand.
I took it. Her grip was firm, her expression composed, and her eyes stayed on mine long enough to make the handshake feel like a decision she’d already reviewed and approved.
«Daniel,» I said.
«Avery.»
«I’ve heard about you.»
«Good things, I hope.»
«Rachel said you were recently single and allergic to sympathy.»
«That’s close enough to good.»
The restaurant was too loud for subtlety, which suited the table. Ethan was describing a customer call with enough hand movement to qualify as a safety concern. Sabrina had one elbow on the table and the patient look of someone who had heard the story already and was waiting for him to reach the useful part. Rachel had dragged an extra chair over beside her. Avery sat down without taking off her coat, as though she might need to make a quick exit from the evening’s concern committee.
«For the record,» she said, turning to Rachel, «I’m capable of surviving dinner.»
«No one said you weren’t.» Rachel stole an olive from Ethan’s plate. «I said you might want to meet people who don’t know Mark.»
«I know people who don’t know Mark.»
«You know a lot of people who know Mark.»
«That’s a different problem.»
There it was. The directness. Not brittle, exactly. More like she’d taken a messy thing and cut away everything she didn’t want to discuss in public. I knew she and Mark had been together for years. Rachel had mentioned the breakup when she invited me out, then added that Avery didn’t need anyone being weird about it. I’d filed away the information and tried not to turn it into a personality test.
«I can be normal,» Ethan said. «I’m doing it right now.»
Sabrina glanced at him. «You told the hostess that you were a regular.»
«I’ve been here twice.»
«You asked where the bathroom was both times.»
«That’s how I know I’m a regular.»
Avery’s mouth moved at one corner. «Strong case.»
«Thank you,» Ethan said. «I’m glad someone at this table respects evidence.»
«I respect evidence,» Avery said. «I just don’t respect your conclusion.»
She shrugged out of her coat. She was tall and slim, with a composed posture and a clean line to her jaw. Her hair was dark brown, almost black in the restaurant’s light. Her eyes were lighter than I’d expected, somewhere between green and gray, sharp enough to make direct eye contact feel less casual than it probably was. Under the coat, she wore a dark green sweater and small gold hoops. Nothing looked fussy. Outside, people moved past the fogged windows with their shoulders drawn up against the January cold.
«What are you getting?» I asked.
«Something that doesn’t require a committee.»
«We have a committee?»
«There are five people at the table and four menus open. It’s already forming.»
I closed mine. «Then I’m withdrawing my vote.»
She looked up. «That’s not how committees work.»
«I’m not sure I’m qualified to serve.»
«That’s never stopped anyone.»
The server arrived before I could answer. Avery ordered quickly, then passed the menu to Rachel. She didn’t ask the table what sounded good or wait for someone else to decide. She chose, handed it over, and moved on. It was a small thing, but I liked the lack of ceremony.
Ethan picked up his story again, this time with the volume lowered by Sabrina’s hand on his forearm. He worked in sales and could keep a room entertained without looking like he was trying. Sabrina had the better timing. She let him get halfway into the story before pointing out the flaw in it.
«You told the client the feature was coming next quarter?» she asked.
«I told him we were exploring it.»
«You said, ‘We’re excited to get that in your hands.’»
«That is a way of exploring.»
«It’s a way of creating a problem for someone else.»
Avery took a sip of water. «I respect her.»
«We’ve known each other six minutes,» Sabrina said.
«I work in project management. I can assess a person from one sentence about scope.»
«Interior design?» I asked.
«Studio side. I keep projects from wandering off a cliff.»
«Do they listen?»
«Sometimes. Usually after they’ve spent money.»
«So, no.»
«I didn’t say that.» She looked at me over her glass. «I said sometimes.»
«Fair.»
«What do you do?»
«Product manager. Mid-sized tech company.»
«Do your projects wander off cliffs?»
«We call it changing priorities.»
«Of course you do.»
«It sounds better in the calendar invite.»
Her smile came more easily that time. Nothing dramatic happened. I just wanted to keep talking to her, which felt more useful than whatever dramatic thing was supposed to happen.
Rachel leaned between us to ask Sabrina about a restaurant opening. The table shifted into its own conversation. Avery followed it, asking questions that got at the useful parts, then letting people talk. She wasn’t trying to be the center of anything. When she did speak, everyone heard her.
«How’s the newly single thing?» Ethan asked a few minutes later.
Rachel shut her eyes. «Ethan.»
«What? I’m asking a regular question.»
«There’s no regular way to ask that in the first fifteen minutes.»
«There is if you’re not making it weird.»
«You’ve made it weird.»
Avery set her fork down. «It’s fine. I’m newly single. The paperwork is imaginary, but the status is accurate.»
«And are you okay?» Ethan asked, a little more carefully.
«Yes.»
«You don’t have to be okay,» Rachel said.
«I know. I also don’t have to perform not being okay to make other people comfortable.»
No one jumped in. The space stayed open, which I appreciated. I’d seen people rush to fill silence with condolences because they were afraid of what might happen if they let someone speak at their own pace.
«That’s fair,» I said.
Avery turned toward me. «You’ve been through the newly single circuit?»
«A couple of times.»
«Any recommendations?»
«Avoid the people who say you’ll find someone when you’re not looking.»
«That’s it?»
«It’s a short list.»
«I’m not looking.»
«Then you’re safe from the recommendation.»
She held my gaze for a beat, testing the answer, maybe testing me. «Convenient.»
«I have my moments.»
The food arrived. Conversation broke into smaller pieces. Sabrina told Avery about the restaurant’s kitchen manager, who had tried to rename a dish after himself. Rachel described an apartment showing where the landlord had called a windowless room «a meditation nook.» Avery asked whether the rent included a meditation discount. Rachel said she’d tried.
«Did you get it?» I asked.
«I got a number for a therapist.»
«That seems like a different service.»
«I was asking for the rent to come down. He thought I needed help.»
«Maybe he was right,» Avery said. «You did go see the apartment.»
«It had good light.»
«It had no windows.»
«The hallway had light.»
Ethan laughed hard enough to make the table next to us look over. Sabrina nudged his knee under the table. «Lower your volume.»
«I’m happy.»
«You’re audible.»
«Same thing.»
I’d met Avery less than an hour ago, and already I could tell she wasn’t going to soften a point because it might bruise someone’s pride. She also didn’t seem interested in winning for the sake of it. She’d make the point, then pass the bread. There was a difference.
When the server asked about another round, Avery said she’d have one. Rachel checked the time and pretended she wasn’t checking it. The group had a familiar rhythm, one I’d joined through Sabrina and Ethan and then kept because I liked them. Avery was new to my side of it, though not to Rachel’s. She seemed to be deciding whether the evening had earned more of her time.
«So,» she said, when the server had gone. «How long have you all been friends?»
«Long enough to know their worst stories,» Ethan said.
«I’ve heard the story about the bachelor party in Milwaukee,» Sabrina said.
«That wasn’t my worst story.»
«It involved a rented mascot costume.»
«That was a misunderstanding.»
«You were inside a bear.»
«The costume was already there.»
«Why?» Avery asked.
«That’s what I’m saying. Misunderstanding.»
She looked at me. «Do you always let him do this?»
«I’ve learned that asking follow-up questions makes it worse.»
«Smart.»
«I try.»
Her laugh was quiet and brief. I noticed it anyway, then went back to eating before I could assign it a significance it hadn’t asked for.
The restaurant started to empty around us. Coats went on, chairs scraped back, the server cleared a nearby table. Rachel and Sabrina talked about plans for the weekend. Ethan tried to convince them that a trivia night was an ideal date activity, then had to admit he had never been to one.
«You want to go to a trivia night you’ve never attended?» Avery asked.
«I like the idea of it.»
«That’s not the same as liking trivia.»
«I like knowing things.»
«You told me two minutes ago that you were a regular here after two visits.»
«That was a separate claim.»
«It was a weak claim.»
«You’re very hard on me.»
«I’ve had a lot of practice.»
The check came. Ethan reached for it first, Sabrina stopped him, and then Rachel started dividing it before either of them could make a production out of paying. Avery looked at the total, sent Rachel her share, and stood.
The first gust when we stepped outside pushed cold under my collar. The sidewalk was wet but clear. A rideshare pulled up at the curb while Ethan gave the driver an address. Sabrina zipped her coat to her chin.
«I’m heading north,» Rachel said. «Avery, are you with me?»
«I’m two blocks from home.»
«You want me to walk with you?»
«I have boots.»
«That wasn’t the question.»
«I know.» Avery’s answer was gentle enough to end it without making Rachel feel foolish. «I’m good.»
Rachel nodded, accepting it.
I said goodnight to Sabrina and Ethan. Rachel squeezed Avery’s arm, then went to join them at the car. Avery stayed on the curb beside me, one hand in her coat pocket, her other holding her phone. She wasn’t looking at the group. She was looking at me.
«You have plans?» she asked.
«Not anymore.»
«There’s a place a few blocks over that stays open late,» she said. «We could get another drink somewhere quieter.»
