He glanced at her. “You can come with me or hang out nearby. There’s a bookstore around the corner.”
“I’ll take the bookstore,” Remi said with a faint smile. “I don’t feel like being charming today.”
Leo laughed. “Fair enough.”
They drove a few more blocks before pulling into a small garage. As they exited the car, the city’s noise wrapped around them with car horns and voices.
Leo slipped the strap of his laptop bag over his shoulder. He looked at her with care. “You okay to kill an hour on your own?”
“I’m good,” Remi said. “I’ll find some coffee and a good book.”
They walked together down the block, Leo pointing out the café where he would meet his contacts. He paused outside the quiet bookstore with a faded awning and a small window display of local authors and new releases.
“I’ll text you when I’m done,” he said.
Remi nodded. “Go be brilliant.”
Leo smirked. “I’ll try.”
She stepped inside as he walked away, the bell above the door chiming. She wandered past fiction, then poetry, herfingers trailing along spines of books until she reached a quiet corner near the window. Somewhere between the rows of books and the city moving outside, she found peace. She sat with a cup of coffee that she’d picked up at a nearby café.
An hour and a half later, the early afternoon rush was forming. Remi waited outside the bookstore, a small paper bag of books in one hand, her phone in the other. A minute later Leo rounded the corner, sunglasses on his face, his jacket flung over his shoulder.
“Hey,” he said. “How was the bookstore?”
“Quiet but dangerous,” Remi replied, holding the bag of books in the air. She fell into step with him. “How was your meeting?”
“Good. Very productive,” he said, then nudged her with his elbow. “Now I’m starving.”
“I could eat,” Remi admitted. “I saw a place a couple of blocks back. A tiny spot with a handwritten menu. Looked like a hole-in-the-wall.”
“Those are the best ones.”
Ten minutes later they were seated at a small table on the patio of a taqueria. The waitress brought over chips, salsa, and a pitcher of margaritas with tajin-dusted rims.
“This is what I needed,” Remi said, squeezing lime onto her taco. “Something simple as tacos and margaritas.”
Leo raised his glass. “To simplicity.”
They clinked glasses and took a sip. Before long, the table was littered with lime wedges and crumpled napkins. They had laughed heartily all afternoon, talked about everything, and finished off two pitchers of margaritas. Leo was easy to be with.
“Want to walk a bit before we head back?” Leo asked. “I think we’ve both had a few too many.”
Remi said, “Let’s walk.”
And they did, side by side through the noise of the city—neitherone saying much, but both feeling just a little lighter than before.
The drive home was quiet. The music was soothing, maybe a little too much. She slipped her sandals from her feet and reclined in the passenger’s seat. The sun beaming down on the windshield made her drowsy, so she dozed off. When she awakened, Leo was pulling the Mercedes in front of her house. He looked over at her.
“We’re here,” he said.
She straightened in her seat. “Wow, I was out of there.”
“Thanks for the company.”
“Thank you for getting me out of the city, taking my mind off things.”
“Anytime.”