Page 6

Rhys

T he office is quiet this morning when I arrive, which is why I love working on Saturdays. There are a few people in, but most are just here to get things done.

There’s a spring in my step that hasn’t been there for days, weeks even. Tonight, I have dinner with Jade. I’m not usually this excited about a woman. I hardly have time to consider them, and I often walk away feeling used, not only for expensive meals, but for raising social media profiles, publicity in the gossip rags, or the outright ask for gifts.

Jade’s different, though. I just have a feeling. There’s the way we met, of course, but also her laugh, her off-the-cuff remarks, and the way she challenges me. And she chose the Shrimp Shack for dinner, a local dive that’s more about character than culinary acclaim. Our destination makes the evening ahead seem even more promising.

I settle into my desk chair, rolling my sleeves up as I start the computer. Saturdays are for catching up, for digging through the backlog without the usual weekday interruptions.

Clear Security’s report on Justin’s message sits at the top of my inbox, a priority that can’t wait till Monday. I click open the attachment, scanning the text with clinical detachment until a line catches my attention: “Voice analysis confirms consistencies with known recordings—variations in pitch and tone align.”

So it‘s Justin’s voice. Okay. Relief washes over me, but it’s tinged with something darker—frustration, maybe even anger. He’s alive, but where the hell is he? What is he doing? Still, this confirmation that Justin is alive pulls me back from the edge of at least some of my wild speculation. We have something concrete to work with now.

I lean back in my chair. Things are looking up. My missing best friend is out there somewhere, and I have a date tonight.

I tap a pen against the edge of my desk, the rhythm aimless as I sort through potential strategies to engage Justin. I need to find a way to connect.

“Rhys?” Theo’s voice cuts through my brooding thoughts, and I look up to find him leaning against the doorframe of my office.

“Hey,” I acknowledge, setting the pen down. “What’s up?”

“Drinks tonight? Danica is visiting her sister in Seattle, so Austin is a bachelor this evening. We thought it’d be good to catch up.” Theo strides in, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Crystal has plans tonight, probably with Turner.”

Turner went to college with us, but instead of a career in engineering, he became an actual rock star. His band is “on a break,” or maybe they actually broke up a few months ago. Either way, he’s been angling to work for EnergiFusion. We worry he’s manipulating Crystal.

“Can’t,” I say, trying to mask the twist of excitement in my stomach. “Ran into the runaway bride this morning.”

“Really?” Theo raises an eyebrow.

“Her name is Jade,” I continue, my attempt to sound nonchalant failing miserably. “We’re grabbing dinner tonight.”

“Jade?” His eyes pop wide, and he chuckles. “You went on about her for days after that car incident. I can’t believe this wasn’t the first thing out of your mouth.”

I shrug, feeling a flush creeping into my cheeks. Last thing I need is them ribbing me for being whipped before the first official date even kicks off. And probably this isn’t even a date. She’s been out of a committed relationship for all of a minute. No need to rush things. She said it was a thank you.

“Didn’t think it was a big deal,” I lie smoothly.

“Right,” Theo drawls. “You don’t think it’s strange that she just showed up again?” His tone is more cautious than teasing.

I lean forward, my defensiveness rising. “No. It’s not strange. It’s…coincidence.” But even as I say it, I feel his words poking at a doubt I don’t want to entertain.

“Are you even sure she was an actual runaway bride?”

I sigh. “She was determined to get away from the church. If this was some sort of con, she really lucked out that I got stopped at the light just as she was making her escape with a gang of people hot on her heels. Plus, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know who I am.”

Theo is silent for a moment, but then nods. “I’m glad you’re excited. Just be cautious. There are a lot of things going on right now.”

“Thanks for the insight,” I reply dryly, watching as Theo backs out of the room with a knowing smirk.

“Anytime, Romeo!” And with a wink, he’s gone, leaving me with a simmering blend of irritation and anticipation. Tonight can’t come soon enough.

I spend the rest of the day hopping from one task to another. I know I must have a silly grin on my face. I don’t care. This is nice.

When the day is done, Scott is at the curb waiting for me. We don’t talk all the way back to my place. Instead, I silently run through all the questions I have about Jade. I know I’ll scare her off if I start rolling them out like a police inspector. I need to play this cool. Really laid back. There’s nothing to worry about. Theo is off base. I know it was luck that I ran into her again. There’s no way it could be anything else.

When we reach my place, I thank Scott with a nod and hop out. After dumping my things in my home office and running a toothbrush through my mouth, I meet him back out front, and we stroll toward the Shrimp Shack.

I push open the door, and the scent of salt and fried seafood greets me like an old friend. The decor is unapologetically nautical, nets draped from the ceiling and life preservers hanging on the walls. A stuffed seagull perches, eternally vigilant atop a pillar, overseeing the two dozen or so tables scattered across the creaky wooden floor. It’s the perfect dive, unpretentious with excellent food.

“Good luck, man,” Scott murmurs before he peels away to give me space, finding a spot where he can keep an eye out without encroaching on my night.

I choose a table near the back, one with a view of the entrance and the gentle sway of boats in the marina beyond. The menu lies ignored. I already know what I want. I eventually pick it up, but it’s an excuse to have something to look at. Really, I’m just watching the door.

Jade arrives ten minutes later, her hair catching the last of the day’s light, an apology already forming on her lips. She’s dressed in dark pants and a sweater that hugs her figure, and she looks fantastic.

“Sorry. I’m rarely on time,” she confesses with a sheepish smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “My dad always says, ‘If you aren’t early, you’re late.’ I guess this is my little act of rebellion.”

“Rebellion suits you,” I reply.

A server swoops in, materializing from thin air, pad ready in hand.

“I’d like the biggest glass you can give me of sparkling water,” Jade says.

“Make that two,” I agree. I like that she’s confident enough to order something nonalcoholic. Who cares?

It’s an easy camaraderie, sharing preferences without pretense. She glances at me with a slight tilt of her head. “I always get the same thing here. Do you know what you want?”

“Yep.” I nod, impressed.

“Shrimp tacos with crispy fries,” she tells the server.

My eyes widen. “Actually, that’s what I was going to order,” I admit with a chuckle. “Well, not the crispy fries, but those sound good too. Do you mind if I get the same thing, or is that a faux pas in your book?”

Jade quirks an eyebrow. “Why would I mind?” she asks. “You’re free to order whatever you want.”

“Good to know,” I say, signaling to the server that I’ll have the same.

As the server walks away, I shrug and explain. “I’ve been out with people who get weirdly territorial over their menu choices, as if ordering the same thing is some kind of culinary plagiarism.”

She laughs, a melodic sound that fills the space between us. “Sounds like you need better dining partners.”

I laugh along with her, finding her easy humor infectious. “Can I ask,” I start, curiosity getting the better of me, “why you’re still at the hotel after a month?”

Jade looks away a moment. “I tell my sister it’s the luxury of room service and not having to clean up after myself. But honestly, I moved in with my ex a few months ago and sold everything I didn’t take with me. Now, I don’t want anything back that’s there. He might have had sex with that bridesmaid on my furniture. And right now, furniture shopping feels overwhelming.” Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “Plus, I’m not particularly keen on being found right now.”

I nod, understanding the need for space. “Have you spoken to him at all since the wedding?” I venture.

“I did the day you and I met, but nothing since then. He left a lot of nasty messages at first, but I don’t figure he’s too sad about the breakup. Our families have been friends for a long time, and it was always the expectation that we’d marry, so we both went with the flow. Then a lot of business got mixed up with the marriage. But—” She shrugs her shoulders. “—they can figure it out on their own now.”

“Have you talked to your family much?”

She purses her lips briefly. “Alexis, my sister, we talk a lot. She’s only a year older than me. But as for the rest…” Jade’s hand flits to her phone, a dismissive flick. “I’ve deleted messages from my brother, my mother, even my father’s secretary. They’re mad at me, and I don’t want to hear it.”

“Family can be complicated,” I say, the words feeling inadequate but deeply true.

The server places our waters in front of us, and we tip them together.

Her green eyes are the perfect shade of jade. I want to know everything about her. Leaning forward, I put my elbows on the table. “So, where did you grow up?”

Jade’s eyes light up. “I’m a San Francisco native through and through—eighth generation, actually. My ancestors came here as goldminers,” she explains. “But my life wasn’t all here. I’m a ceramicist. I’ve lived in Japan and in Los Angeles for a while, studying ceramics under Shio Kusaka.”

“Shio Kusaka?” I ask, intrigued by the reverence in her tone. “What was it about her work that inspired you?”

Jade grows animated, her hands gesturing as if molding the air between us into her own invisible artwork. “Shio has this way of blending tradition with innovation, always pushing the boundaries of what could be done with clay. Her dedication and philosophy… It changed how I saw the art form entirely.” Her voice is a melody of respect and aspiration.

She talks about her pottery with an ease and confidence I admire. There’s no hesitation in her voice, no second-guessing whether her work has value. She knows it does, and not because someone told her so, but because her work speaks for itself.

I take a sip of my water. How long has it been since I felt that way? Back when Theo, Austin, Justin, and I first started EnergiFusion, there was nothing but excitement. We had a dream in college and an advisor, and then an investor, who believed we could change the world. We didn’t worry about board meetings or employee issues. We just focused on solving problems.

Watching Jade now, I wonder if that’s the secret. She doesn’t let doubt creep in. She just works, trusting herself and the process, knowing that the outcome will reflect her effort.

I look at her, catching the glow in her eyes as she describes experimenting with a new glaze. Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing. Lately, it feels like all I do is react—to crises, to board members, to Justin’s absence. But if I could channel even a fraction of Jade’s focus and enthusiasm, maybe I could stop putting out fires and start building something again.

We’re so engrossed in conversation that I don’t notice the server approaching with our food until he’s setting down plates in front of us. The aroma of seasoned shrimp wafts up, and my stomach growls in anticipation.

“Enjoy your meal,” the server says before leaving us to our privacy again.

“Sorry.” Jade chuckles, a flush creeping into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” I assure her. “It’s fascinating hearing about your journey. Speaking of which…” I pick up a shrimp taco. “Are you able to make a living with your art? Or do you have a bunch of side hustles?”

A modest smile curves her lips. “I’m quite fortunate. These days I earn a decent income as a commission artist. I create custom dishware for high-end restaurants.”

Impressed, I let out a low whistle. “That’s incredible. It must be rewarding to see your art become part of someone’s dining experience.” I take a bite of my taco. These are the best in the City by far.

Her eyes light up. “It definitely is. That’s it exactly.”

“I don’t know much about ceramics. Do you have a studio? Or do you go to the restaurant and work?”

She chuckles. “I have a large studio with two kilns in Soma. I will build over eight hundred pieces for the commission I’m working on right now.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“It is. Once I finalize the designs, I’ll meet with the restaurant for their approval, and then once the pieces are finalized, it will take about four months to get all of them done.”

“That means your studio is full by the time you deliver.”

“It is. This isn’t my largest commission, but it is one of the bigger ones. If they don’t like my designs, though, and we can’t adjust them to their satisfaction, they can cancel their request.”

“Has that ever happened?”

“No.” She knocks on the wooden table. “For this project, they’ve requested seven different pieces. I’ll begin with the dinner plates. They’re usually the most challenging because of their size and the volume that’s needed. As they dry, they can sometimes crack if the temperature in my loft isn’t perfect. If that happens, I have to toss it and start over. They’ve asked for two hundred dinner plates, but I’ll probably make closer to two hundred fifty to account for any issues.”

“That’s a lot of time,” I marvel. I never realized how intricate it would be.

“Each type of item usually takes about two weeks to create and bisque fire. The mugs, however, will take nearly three times as long since adding and securing the handles is a more intricate process.”

“Bisque fire?”

She chuckles. “Sorry. I create on a wheel. Then the piece needs to dry for about a week, and then I run them through the kiln for a bisque fire. That creates a hard but very delicate piece that I then paint with glaze. The glaze adds a finish as well as strength. Then once the glaze dries, you do another fire. It’s not difficult or anything; it’s just a lot of steps.”

“What happens if things break after their delivery? Do you have to go back and start all over?”

“I’ll make extras of everything, so if they come back, I can just hand them new pieces without dropping everything to recreate when I’m working on my next commission.”

“What if they don’t need the extras?”

“On occasion I have pieces no one ever needs, and those usually end up in my cupboards.”

I fiddle with the last bite of my shrimp taco, reluctant to finish it off. “What’s the name of your company?”

“It’s just my name, Jade Allerton.” She laughs lightly. “I like to keep things personal, so each piece has my fancy JA stamp on the bottom.”

“Ah, that’s classy,” I compliment, imagining the elegant simplicity of her initials on fine ceramics. “Which restaurants carry your work?”

“Currently, the order I just described is for a restaurant up in Marin County called Under the Sea. They’re revamping their fall menu and wanted something special,” she explains.

I glance over at Jade’s plate, which is mostly untouched, and feel a tinge of guilt. “I’m sorry. I’ve been asking so many questions. You haven’t even started on your food.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s nice when someone actually cares about what I do,” she says. “Anyway, now it’s my turn to dig a little deeper. Tell me more about you.” She picks up her fork, poised to finally enjoy her meal, her attention on me now. “So, how long have you been in San Francisco?” Jade’s fork punctures a crispy fry.

“I’m not a native,” I confirm.

She nods. “San Francisco is small. We would have met growing up if you were.”

I grin. “My buddies and I came out here about ten years ago. We met at Georgia Tech and had this senior engineering project that caught the eye of a venture capitalist. Next thing we knew, we were packing our bags and heading west.”

“Ten years is a solid stint,” she observes, finally taking a bite of her taco. “Has your company gone public yet?” she asks, adding a dollop of guacamole to her food.

I shake my head, amused by the casual way she broaches such a weighty topic. “We were lucky. We never needed additional cash to keep us afloat, so we’ve stayed private. It gives us the freedom to steer the ship as we see fit,” I say with pride. “We have a board of experienced individuals that advises us, but we really value our independence. It’s nice to not worry about the whims of shareholders.”

Her eyes gleam with understanding, and a smile plays on her lips as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “That sounds quite liberating,” she says, echoing my sentiments.

I spear a crispy fry.

“What does your company do?” she asks.

“Ah,” I say with a chuckle, realizing I’ve been vague. “We make sodium-ion batteries for electric vehicles.” A blank look forms on her face, and I hasten to explain. “They’re an alternative to lithium-ion ones. We started out with electric vehicle batteries, and see your key fob there?” I point to the small device resting near her plate. “Our goal is to replace lithium batteries with sodium ones in everyday items like that. Sodium-ion batteries are better for the environment.”

“Sounds revolutionary,” she says.

“Hopefully,” I agree, feeling a surge of enthusiasm. It’s nice to talk about my passion without the glazed-over expression I usually get from my dates.

Jade picks up her shrimp taco, observing it before taking another delicate bite. After savoring it for a moment, she asks, “Where did you grow up?”

“Kansas City, Kansas. A quiet suburb.”

“Must be light years different from here,” she muses.

“It certainly is,” I reply. “San Francisco’s pace, its vibrancy—it’s another world entirely. But I think I always wanted to leave Kansas City.”

“And here you are,” she says, “making your mark.” Her tone teases, but her eyes are earnest.

“Here I am,” I echo, our gazes holding for a moment in a little seafood shack where time seems to stand still.

Jade leans forward. “Tell me about your family.” She pushes aside the rest of her food.

I hesitate, unaccustomed to personal inquiries. “My dad passed away when I was fourteen,” I start. “My mom’s still in Kansas City, but we’re…not close.”

“Sorry to hear about your dad,” Jade murmurs. “Do you have siblings?”

“An older brother and two older sisters—one by four years and the other by two,” I continue, appreciating the shift away from my mother. “I’m closest to Teagan, my oldest sister. She has a pair of little girls who are just— They’re great.” A smile tugs at my lips. “I don’t get to see them nearly enough.”

“Distance can make that hard,” Jade agrees. “But you must video conference with them?”

“Yes. For sure.”

She studies me a moment, as if piecing together a puzzle. “Why do you only answer what you’re asked? You don’t seem to offer much voluntarily.”

Her directness takes me by surprise, a contrast to the guarded dance of conversation I’m used to. It’s disarming, and I find myself laughing. “I guess I’ve always thought I’m not that interesting,” I confess.

“Interesting is subjective,” Jade counters, her eyes narrowing. “And I doubt you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

There’s something about the way she looks at me, speculative and probing, that makes me want to open up. But old habits die hard, and I shy away from the spotlight, even one that’s warm and inviting.

But Jade seems undeterred. “So, aside from your work, what do you like to do for fun?”

I lean back in my chair, considering. “Honestly, I’m so wrapped up in the company most of the time that ‘fun’ feels like a concept I’m relearning.” The recent challenges at work flash through my mind, but they’re receding now, giving way to calmer waters. “But I’ve been thinking about taking up sailing.”

“Sailing?” She nods.

“Yep. It’s that or develop an app that does it for me,” I quip.

Jade laughs, a sound that rings genuine and bright in the cozy ambiance of the Shrimp Shack. “Ah, there it is—the quintessential Silicon Valley success story. Next thing you know, you’ll be competing in the America’s Cup with your very own sailboat.”

“Is it that obvious?” I reply, feigning a sigh. “And here I thought I was being original. That’s probably why I come across as boring.”

“Hardly boring,” she counters with a shake of her head. I can tell she wants to dig deeper, past modesty and self-deprecating humor.

Eager to steer the conversation away from myself, I take the opening to shift the focus back to her. “Your turn to share. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I really am boring. When I’m not working on my ceramics, I love to travel and stay places for a while so I can immerse myself in the culture. Living in San Francisco, I know the best places are never where the tourists go,” she says. “Look at this place. Not exactly glamorous, but it’s the best shrimp tacos in the City.”

“Definitely,” I concur. It strikes me how our respective passions occupy such different worlds—her art tangible and earthy, mine rooted in technology and innovation. “Do you give tours of your studio?” I ask.

“No one has ever asked. My studio is idyllic with a side of industrial charm,” she explains with a wink. “Maybe one day I’ll show you around if you promise not to critique my messy workbench.”

“Deal,” I say, sealing it with a nod. “No critiques, only admiration.”

And as the conversation dances on, the evening slips by, filled with laughter and stories that weave us closer together, one word at a time.

A flicker of surprise crosses Jade’s face as she glances at her phone, and I realize the night has skimmed past us like a shadow. “Wow, it’s been three hours?”

I signal for the check, slipping my credit card to the server without a second thought. As I add a generous tip, gratitude for the quiet evening and the unlimited glasses of sparkling water, I sense the evening drawing to its inevitable close. “Let me walk you back to your hotel,” I offer. There’s a hopeful note in my voice I can’t quite mask.

“Sure.” She smiles, gathering her things. We exit the Shrimp Shack, the Marina whispering secrets in the cool night air and Scott lingering behind us. As we walk, I break the silence first. “I had the best time tonight.”

“Me too. It was really nice,” she replies, igniting a warmth in my chest.

Far too soon, the Inn Above Tide looms ahead, all soft lighting and promise. I follow her inside, and at the elevator, she turns to me. “You could come up for a bit,” she says, her voice casual, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Her smile doesn’t waver, yet I can see the hint of vulnerability behind it, a question she’s not entirely sure she wants answered.

My heart kicks up a notch at the invitation, my mind racing through the possibilities. The idea of spending more time with her, of seeing more of the life she’s built in her quiet sanctuary at the hotel, is more than tempting.

But knowing she’s only a month out of an engagement, this feels like moving fast, and I can’t be the guy who steps into that space without thinking it through. Not now, not when there’s so much else on my plate.

“It’s a tempting offer,” I say, letting a smile soften the words, “but I should probably call it a night. You’ve got an early-morning run, right?”

Her expression shifts, just a fraction, but it’s enough to tell me she understands. “Yeah, I do,” she says.

She thanks me again, and as she turns to head upstairs, I stand there for a moment, watching her retreat. A part of me wonders if I made the wrong choice, if I should’ve taken the chance. But mostly it feels like giving her space now might be the reason there’s something to build on later.