Chapter 3 - Coffee and Condescension
The next morning, Ryan was already gone by seven, leaving a lukewarm pot of coffee on the counter with a yellow sticky note stuck to the glass carafe.
Let's reset tonight. Paige wants to meet us for coffee at the roastery downtown. Please be open-minded.
I peeled the note off, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the trash bin.
I dressed in my usual work slacks and blouse, drove to the medical distributor, and worked through my inventory reconciliation without missing a single error. Work was simple; numbers never lied, never made promises they couldn't keep, and never expected you to sacrifice your health for someone else's comfort.
At four-fifteen, I left the warehouse and drove into the city center.
The coffee shop was an upscale artisan café with polished concrete floors and mid-century leather chairs. Ryan and Paige were already sitting together in a corner booth near the window.
As I walked toward them, I noticed their body language immediately.
They sat side by side, their shoulders nearly brushing as they leaned over an iPad screen. Ryan was laughing at something she showed him, his face relaxed and entirely free of the tension that had choked our dinner the night before.
Paige wore an expensive cashmere sweater, her hair perfectly styled in loose waves, holding a seven-dollar oat-milk latte with manicured nails. She looked remarkably rested for a woman who claimed to be suffering from unbearable workplace exhaustion.
When Ryan saw me approaching, he stood up quickly, his smile turning cautious.
"Lena. You made it."
Paige didn't stand, but she offered a soft, rehearsed smile that was loaded with manufactured empathy.
"Hi, Lena. I'm really glad you agreed to talk."
I pulled out the metal chair across from them and sat down without ordering anything. I rested both hands flat against the wooden table.
"I didn't come to negotiate, Paige," I said plainly. "I came to hear why you think Ryan's household should pay your bills."
Paige's smile faltered, replaced instantly by wide, wounded eyes. She glanced at Ryan before addressing me with an airy, delicate voice.
"It's not like that, Lena. Ryan and I share a lot of history. When we broke up, he promised he would always make sure I was protected. I gave him six of the best years of my twenties."
"And you parted ways three years ago," I said. "He doesn't owe you a lifelong pension."
Ryan leaned forward, his face flushing red. "Lena, stop treating her like an adversary. She wants to transition into floral design. It takes time to build a portfolio."
"Then she can build it while working thirty hours a week, like I’ve been doing for four years," I countered, looking directly into Paige's eyes.
Paige sighed softly, taking a delicate sip of her latte. "Not everyone has your stamina, Lena. Some people need a softer landing."
"With someone else's money?"
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"It's Ryan's money," Paige said, her voice dropping the sweet act for a split second, revealing a hard, territorial edge beneath. "He offered it freely."
"He offered it from our joint living expenses," I replied. "And starting today, that account is closed."
