Chapter 4 - The Arrival of David
David entered my life on a rainy Tuesday in October, completely unscripted by Evelyn.
I was working late at the publishing house, struggling to format a notoriously difficult manuscript, when the office vending machine swallowed my last three-dollar bill without releasing the bag of almonds I desperately needed. Standing there in the empty breakroom, staring through the glass at the dangling snack, I let out a long, pathetic sigh.
“If you shake it, the motor usually kicks in, but management frowns upon structural violence,” a voice said from the doorway.
I turned around to see a tall man in a charcoal wool coat, carrying a stack of revised galley proofs. He had kind, crinkling brown eyes and a small, self-deprecating smile. His name was David, a newly hired senior layout editor from the downtown branch who had transferred over to help with our autumn rush.
We ended up staying in the breakroom for two hours, talking not about spreadsheets or manuscripts, but about obscure indie bands, our shared aversion to artisanal coffee shops that charged eight dollars for lukewarm foam, and the strange, quiet beauty of working late in an empty building.
When David asked for my number before leaving, I gave it to him without hesitation—a flutter of nervous excitement in my chest that I hadn't felt in years.
Our first official date was at a cramped, dimly lit Italian bistro downtown. David was attentive, witty, and refreshingly devoid of hidden agendas. He listened—truly listened—when I spoke about my mother’s health or my ambitions of moving into acquisitions. He didn't interrupt, he didn't psychoanalyze, and he didn't offer unsolicited warnings.
For the first three weeks, I kept David carefully compartmentalized. I met him at restaurants, walked with him through the sculpture gardens on Sunday afternoons, and kept my apartment quiet when he stayed over.
I knew, on some primal, terrified level, how Evelyn would react to him.
Because David wasn't flawed in the ways Evelyn’s past targets had been. He wasn't arrogant like Julian, or self-absorbed like Marcus. He was solid. He was kind. And worst of all from Evelyn’s perspective, he was observant.
The collision was inevitable. It happened on a Friday evening when Evelyn invited herself over to my apartment to drop off mail that had been mistakenly delivered to her box.
David was in the kitchen, washing the plates from the pasta we had cooked together.
May you like
When Evelyn walked through my front door using her spare key—a habit I had never questioned—she stopped dead in her tracks. The smile on her face froze, her eyes darting from my coat draped over the armchair to the man standing by my sink in his shirtsleeves.
“Oh,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping an octave into a smooth, icy register. “I didn't realize we had company.”
