The Difference Between Us

by Rachel Higginson

  He winked at me. “Plus, I’ll give your bike a free tune up whenever you need it.”

  “I don’t own a bike.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, hey, I can help you out there too.”

  I contemplated reminding him how our cycling class had ruined me for bike riding from here until forever and ever amen. But I didn’t want to totally crush him.

  So instead, I shifted the conversation. “You know I have a real job too, right? And some of my clients are really high maintenance.” I nodded toward Ezra who was staring at my Foodie painting that was the focal point of the room. It hung centered in the middle of the wall above a trendy buffet table made with different shades of wood and looked like it weighed approximately three thousand pounds.

  “You’re a brave man, Ezra,” Vann laughed. “Hasn’t she driven you crazy yet?”

  Ezra seemed to blink back into focus, but he never lost the thoughtful look in his eyes. “Absolutely,” he answered Vann. “More than once.”

  “Hey!”

  “But I have to admit,” Ezra went on, “she knows what she’s talking about. She’s only accused me of being elderly once a day since we started and dismisses all of my brilliant ideas, but I think I’m starting to trust that she’s not going to tank my entire company and everything I’ve worked so hard for.” He paused thoughtfully, then said, “At least as far as her design goes. She might still try just for fun.”

  My cheeks heated while the room burst into laughter at my expense. It wasn’t that I was offended, but I hated all the attention so focused on me. I had been trying to deflect it onto Ezra, but he somehow managed to bounce it right back at me. “Careful,” I warned him. “Hell hath no fury like a woman insulted.”

  He pushed his plate to the side and leaned his forearms on the table. “I believe that from you.”

  Only I wasn’t insulted. Not even a little bit. Somehow Ezra’s backward declarations felt very much like compliments. It was unnerving to remember his success, all his accomplishments. And he was trusting me with them—well, at least as much as his control freak self would let him. He had asked specifically for me. He had gone out of his way to get me.

  “Who’s ready for dessert?” Vera asked, breaking the staring spell that had come over Ezra and me again.

  I turned away from him and tried to protest, but Vera had made coconut sorbet and dark chocolate brownies from scratch, so to be fair, I didn’t try very hard. We spent the rest of the night finishing off another two bottles of wine and laughing until my stomach hurt.

  We talked about Killian and Vera’s plan for their restaurant and the progress they were making. They were living off savings and a business loan, so things were tight for them. And on top of that, they were also planning a wedding. They were very stressed, but also very much in love. They laughed at a lot of their problems, having to eat cheaper and buy less wine. It was so interesting for me to watch a couple struggle financially without ripping each other’s heads off.

  Vann filled us in on his cycle shop and his dysfunctional dating life. At Vera’s suggestion, he’d started trying to date women that weren’t the nice, good girls he usually went for. This had led to a series of high-maintenance crazies that he was positive were now stalking him.

  Ezra shared his struggle to find a chef for Bianca. He and Killian spoke in depth about who he could reach out to and who would be right for the job. They also talked about Ezra’s sister Dillon and how she was doing in her final year of culinary school. Apparently, she’d been flakey for the first part of her twenties thanks to a large inheritance from their dad. But now she was serious about growing up and had decided that she wanted to be a chef.

  “She knows I’ll give her a job,” Ezra sighed. “That’s why she’s doing it.”

  “Seems like a lot of work just to get a steady paycheck,” Vann laughed.

  Ezra’s eyebrows scrunched over his nose. “Good point. She knows I won’t fire her then.”

  “That’s probably more accurate,” Killian agreed. “How’s she doing, though? Is there any talent there?”

  Ezra shrugged. “She really isn’t bad. She needs some experience, but she’s well-traveled so her palate is mature. And she’s brave.”

  “Put her in Wyatt’s kitchen,” Killian suggested. “He’ll whip her into shape.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to take her on?” Ezra asked. “She knows you. I’m sure she’d be more comfortable in your kitchen.”

  “She wouldn’t make it two days with me,” Killian admitted candidly. “I don’t have patience for green. I’d traumatize her.”

  “He would,” Vera agreed. “He regularly traumatizes me in the kitchen.”

  “And in the bedroom,” I added.

  We’d had enough wine that my joke was hilarious. Which probably meant it was time to go. I didn’t want to spend two Saturdays in a row hungover.

  Ezra seemed to read my mind. “Are you about ready?”

  I pushed away from the table and stood up, the three glasses of wine rushing to my head. “Yep. But are you okay to drive?”

  “I’ve stuck to water,” he explained.

  “Thanks for a fabulous dinner,” I told Vera and Killian. “Next time I’ll cook for all of you, then you can really be impressed with yourselves.”

  Vera cackled at my offer. “No thanks, Molls! I’d rather not die of food poisoning just months before my wedding. But any time you want a decent meal, you’re welcome here.”

  My heart warmed knowing she was serious. There had been so many secrets between Vera and me while she was with Derrek, that I had often wondered if things would ever be totally honest between us again. I knew she was convinced she was a good liar, but those closest to her saw the truth. She had lived in fear for a long time. She had been oppressed and hurt and broken.

  And she’d kept it all bottled up inside her, afraid that we would be carried away in the riptide of her crisis.

  When she’d finally left Derrek, she’d run away to Europe. She’d claimed it was for cooking, to hone her skills and expand her palate. But I had been her best friend since childhood. I saw right through her. She’d been terrified to face us, to tell us the truth. She’d been afraid of the consequences for a failed relationship that was not her fault.

  Our relationship had taken some serious work to rebuild, even after she finally came back to Durham. She hadn’t been ready to trust for a long time, not even me or Vann or her dad. She’d still carried the weight of Derrek’s abuse on her shoulders like a hiking backpack filled with boulders.

  Slowly, bit by bit, we’d pieced our relationship back together. And slowly, bit by bit, she’d picked up the shattered remnants of her career, life and spirit. But nothing really clicked until Killian came into the picture.

  Things were finally back to normal. There was no more reason to worry about her or wonder if she’d ever truly heal. She was damaged by Derrek, but not destroyed. She had been hurt by tragedy, but not defeated.

  She was an inspiration to me. I saw what she’d been through and what she’d overcome and secretly longed to have those same victories. Our struggles were widely different, but she inspired hope that things wouldn’t always be this hard, this confusing, that maybe my backpack wouldn’t always be this heavy. She had this gorgeous happy ending that I couldn’t help but want to mimic.

  She was the fairy tale that I aspired to be.

  Killian and Vera walked us to the door while Vann ordered an Uber for himself from his phone. Vera pulled me into a hug on her porch, the chilly night air nibbling on our skin. It went straight up my spine thanks to my backless shirt and I wiggled into her, clinging for warmth.

  “Make sure you work the whole time you’re in the car with him. Then call me in the morning and tell me all about how productive you two were.”

  I chose to ignore her innuendos. “I will call you tomorrow,” I told her. “And you’ll be so impressed with everything. It’s going to blow your mind!”

  She giggled
and said, “Who’s mind is it going to blow?”

  I stepped away from her. “Oh, my gosh, you are a pervert.”

  “See how the tables have turned?” She swirled her finger back and forth between us. “Not so fun on the other side now, is it?”

  “No,” I agreed. “I much prefer being the depraved sidekick.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Killian asked.

  “Nothing!” we said together.

  Ezra jerked his head toward his super exclusive car that nobody was allowed to ride in or touch or look at. “Ready, Molly?”

  “Yep.” Vera and I said our final goodbyes, I thanked our hosts again for a lovely dinner and got into Ezra’s car for the third time more conscious than ever about not messing something up.

  When we were back on the road and headed toward my apartment building, I decided I needed to prove Vera wrong. So, ignoring the warm tipsy feeling from the wine, I reached into my purse and pulled out my work notebook and phone.

  The night was chilly, but Ezra’s car was the opposite. The heated seat warmed my back, making me cozy and sleepy. The city zipped by us in late-night silence. Mumford and Sons drifted softly from the stereo in the background.

  It’s in the eyes. I can tell, you will always be danger.

  I shivered at the truth in those lyrics. Ezra noticed and reached over to adjust the heat settings.

  Feeling raw and exposed for no reason at all, I hugged my notebook to my chest and asked, “What did you want to go over?”

  He looked at me briefly, his dark eyes giving nothing away. “I want to hire you.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I resisted the urge to smile. “You already hired me.”

  “To paint,” he clarified. “I have an idea for Bianca that I—”

  “No.” He couldn’t be serious. “Absolutely not.”

  “You haven’t even heard my proposal.”

  My expression flattened. “This feels familiar. Are you getting déjà vu?”

  “Molly, I’m serious.” His voice roughened, deepened, and became that commanding tone I was oh, so familiar with.

  “But you can’t be. You haven’t seen any of my work. You don’t even know if I’m any good or not.”

  “The portrait at Killian’s was incredible. You perfectly captured them. It wasn’t just in the colors and images, but the feel of the painting. If it had been anywhere else, it would have captured my attention without trying.”

  “Uh, thank you.” I swallowed around the fist-sized lump in my throat. “But you’re missing the point—”

  “And if Killian is willing to hire you and Vann wants to hire you, I know there is more to your talent than just that one painting.”

  “Okay, but what I’m saying is that you have no idea if what I do is right for you.”

  He slowed the car to a stop and turned that too-intense gaze to look at me. “You’re wrong. I know exactly what is right for me, Molly.” The light turned green but he didn’t move. “You. You’re right for me.”

  I licked dry lips and tried to focus on the conversation and not my wildly beating heart.

  He turned back to the road. “Five thousand dollars.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Ten.” He countered an argument I hadn’t made.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Name your price,” he demanded. “I’ll pay it.”

  “Ezra, stop,” I pleaded breathlessly. “You can’t just throw money at me. You’ve only seen one of my paintings and I don’t even know if I can do what you’re asking me to do. I’m not a painter. I’m not an artist. I have a hobby, that’s it. I’ve only taken a handful of classes and I’m way underqualified to make anywhere near that kind of money.”

  He seemed to consider my words. His head tipped to the side thoughtfully, but he was like a dog with a bone. There was no getting this man to back off once he’d decided he wanted something. “There’s this wall at Bianca. It’s always felt awkward to me, because of how smooth and uninterrupted it is. We’ve tried to dress it up and decorate it, but nothing has ever fit quite right. I want a mural or whatever you call it. Something emotional. I want every person that leaves my restaurant to remember it.”

  My lungs stopped working. Like straight up quit on me. I couldn’t breathe. “That’s a lot to ask of someone who is one step above paint-by-numbers.”

  He pulled up in front of my apartment building, idling on the curb. He turned again, leaning toward me so that I inhaled him, cologne and the coconut sorbet and something that was achingly him. “Name your price, Molly. Whatever you want is yours.”

  The wine and perfect evening muddled my thoughts. I couldn’t think straight with him this close. I couldn’t remember all of my intelligent reasons for telling him no.

  “You give me complete control of your EFB account.” I heard myself name my price, but I still didn’t believe I’d been the one to speak. That was a bold demand. Especially from an overbearing dictator like Ezra. And I wasn’t bold. I was meek and mild mannered. I didn’t demand things from anybody, especially not super successful business tycoons like him.

  “Excuse me?” His lips pressed into a frown.

  I patted my tipsy self on the back. There, I’d found the one price he wasn’t willing to pay. That would teach him to ask ridiculous things of me late at night. This was a bad habit I needed to break asap.

  “You back off the website and social strategy and all of it. I want complete control.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I am.” Gaining confidence, I laid out my reasoning. “You’re impossible to work with, Ezra. I can’t make any progress with your fingers in every single aspect. I spend most of my time convincing you to let me do what I know is best, which leaves very little time to actually work on the project. If you want me to paint this mural, then you have to back off the graphic design side and give me complete autonomy.”

  His jaw ticked. He couldn’t do it. “Anything else?”

  “And you can’t interfere with the painting project either. If you hover over my shoulder the entire time, I’ll be too nervous to get anything done. I’m not a professional and I don’t want to be treated like one. If you really want me to paint something for you, you have to trust my process. Which is isolated. I work alone. You can’t come anywhere near it until I’m finished.”

  “And how much do you want to get paid?”

  Was he seriously considering this? My stomach filled with angry butterflies, flapping poison tipped wings. I hadn’t believed he would take me seriously, but now that I was in the middle of negotiations I wasn’t sure I could back out. Not if I got Ezra to concede to leave me and his account completely alone.

  I waved off the idea of getting paid. “I have no idea,” I admitted honestly. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m sure there is a standard rate or whatever, but I’ll have to look it up.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “You’ll let me know if it’s over ten thousand?”

  I rolled my eyes, finding the entire idea ludicrous. “Yes, Ezra, if I plan to charge you more than ten thousand dollars, I’ll warn you. Right before I commit myself. Don’t be crazy.”

  His full lips twitched with the smile he held back. “I’m starting to think it’s too late, Molly Maverick. There is just something about you that makes my common sense completely disappear.”

  That shouldn’t have felt like a compliment. But it did. It so did. “Thanks for the ride, Ezra. Don’t worry about not getting any work done tonight. I’m on it.”

  This time he did smile and it was perfect. Confident, genuine and so, so stunning. “Will you at least give me updates?”

  “You mean before I upload everything to all your sites and totally revolutionize your business and way of life as you know it?”

  His smile widened and my heart tried to jump out of my body altogether. “Yeah, before all of that.”

  “Let’s just say, good behavior will go a long way. We could come up with a
reward system? A gold star chart?”

  “I think all this power is going to your head,” he murmured, his voice pitching low and smooth.

  I sucked in my bottom lip and suppressed a victorious smile. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

  His eyes glittered when he laughed. “From everything I know about you, it sounds exactly like you.”

  His words hit me in some secret, hidden part. Was that true? Did he somehow see something in me that I didn’t know existed?

  But to be fair, I acted differently around him than the rest of the people in my life. I was assertive and antagonistic and… outspoken. I didn’t hold back my thoughts or my words. I argued with him. I even picked fights with him on purpose.

  But that was because of him, not me. He pulled that strong personality out of me with his boorish, overbearing behavior.

  It was his fault I was like this.

  Except I found that I didn’t want to give him all of the credit. I didn’t mind this side of me. Maybe I was even proud of it. I wanted to keep some of the credit for myself. I wanted to believe that I was capable of this all on my own.

  “Thanks for the ride, Ezra. You can email me the details of your mural whenever you get a chance.” My hand found the door handle and I forced myself to leave the warmth and strange intimacy of his car.

  “I’ll walk you inside,” he offered.

  “No, that’s—” But he’d already jumped out of his side and was headed around to mine. I scrambled out of the passenger’s side door before he could do something drastic that ruined every other man for me for the rest of my life—like open my door again.

  We walked in silence the short distance to the door of my lobby. He’d left his car idling unmanned and I was irrationally nervous that someone was going to run up to it, jump inside, and drive off.

  “If someone steals your car because of me, I’m going to have to sell a kidney to pay you back.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, amused. “It’s just a thing, Molly. Not worth a kidney.”

  “Don’t tell Killian that,” I warned. “Pretty sure he thinks it’s a bigger deal than most internal organs.”

  He leaned in, bringing our faces close together, our bodies following suit. My gaze dropped to his lips for just a second. Okay, maybe five seconds. Possibly a good ten seconds.