Seeing me, he was taken aback for a moment, then quickly regained his composure.
"Ethan, come sit down."
Mason led me to sit opposite him, and the waiter brought the menu.
"Isabel, you said Ethan likes seafood, so I ordered some..."
"No way."
Isabel immediately interrupted him, "Did you forget about your seafood allergy?"
"It's for Ethan. I won't touch it."
"Are you sure you can resist?"
With a disapproving frown, Isabel grabbed the menu from him, taking charge of the ordering.
Mason rested his chin on his hands, grinning at her.
Sitting by, watching them get along so effortlessly, I felt like the odd man out.
I felt my heart growing cold and even the air turning bitter, oppressively dense.
Back in the first half of the year, when Mason first joined Isabel's team, she would vent to me daily about his carelessness and obtuseness.
At first, I would tell her not to sweat the small stuff with him.
But soon, Mason's name was a constant presence in our conversations.
His name was in almost every sentence when she spoke to me.
Isabel's attitude toward him shifted from scolding to open admiration.
She said he reminded her of me back in the day—passionate about life and ambitious.