Eric considered this for a long moment.
"Sometimes," he said. "But simple isn't always better."
"No," Victoria agreed. "But it's certainly easier."
Their meals arrived, interrupting the conversation.
"This looks amazing," Victoria said, examining her salmon.
"Yeah," Eric agreed, though he was hardly paying attention to the food.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Eric's mind wandering despite his efforts to stay present.
"You're somewhere else," Victoria observed.
"Sorry," Eric said, refocusing on the conversation. "Just thinking."
"About her?" Victoria asked.
Eric nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"She must be special," Victoria said.
"She is," Eric said softly.
Victoria's phone rang, and she glanced at it with a frown.
"Everything okay?" Eric asked.
"It's Edward," she said, her expression concerned as she answered the call.
"Hey, babe, what's wrong?" she said into the phone, her voice immediately softening with worry.
Eric could hear the muffled sound of his brother's voice on the other end, though he couldn't make out the words.
Victoria's frown deepened as she listened.
"When did it start?" she asked, pressing the phone closer to her ear. "Have you taken anything for it?"
There was another pause as Edward spoke, and Victoria's free hand moved to her forehead, a gesture Eric recognized as her way of processing stress.
"No, no, don't be silly," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Of course I can come over. I was just having dinner with Eric, but we're almost finished anyway."
Eric watched her face as she continued the conversation, noting the way her entire expression had changed from elegant dinner companion to concerned girlfriend.
"Did you eat anything today?" Victoria asked, her voice taking on a slightly scolding tone. "Edward, you know you can't just skip meals when you're not feeling well."
She listened for a moment, then shook her head.
"I'll stop by the pharmacy on my way and pick up some of that soup you like from the deli," she said. "The one with the chicken and vegetables. Yes, that one."
Eric found himself studying Victoria's face as she spoke to his brother, seeing a side of her that he rarely witnessed.
Gone was the polished actress, replaced by someone genuinely caring and maternal.
"I should be there in about thirty minutes," Victoria said. "Just try to rest until I get there, okay? And drink some water."
She paused, listening to Edward's response, and a small smile crossed her face.
"I love you too," she said softly. "I'll see you soon."
Victoria ended the call and looked at Eric apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she said. "He's got a terrible headache and he's been feeling nauseous all day. I think he might be coming down with something."
Eric felt a familiar stab of something that might have been jealousy at the mention of his brother's name.
"You should go," he said.
"Are you sure?" Victoria asked. "We haven't finished catching up."
"We can do this another time," Eric said. "Edward needs you."
Victoria smiled gratefully.
"Thank you for understanding," she said.
She signaled for the waiter, who appeared instantly. "Could we get the check, please?"
"Of course, right away," the waiter said.
"I'll get it," Eric said.
"Are you sure?" Victoria asked.
"It's the least I can do," Eric said. "Go take care of my brother."
Victoria smiled, gathering her purse and coat. She paused to kiss his cheek before leaving.
"Take care of yourself, Eric," she said. "And don't be afraid to take a chance on happiness."
Eric watched her walk away, admiring the graceful way she moved through the restaurant.
Her shoulders were straight and confident, her head held high with the poise that had made her a star.
As Victoria moved toward the exit, something about the way she carried herself triggered a memory.
The set of her shoulders, the graceful line of her neck, the way she held her head — it was suddenly familiar in a way that had nothing to do with Victoria herself.
Eric's mind flashed back to Hailey's apartment, to the moment when he had watched her from the small dining table as she stood at the stove.
She had been stirring the noodles, her back to him, and there had been something about the curve of her shoulders that had made him want to reach out and touch her.
The same graceful line, the same unconscious elegance.
But where Victoria's poise was practiced and deliberate, Hailey's had been natural and unaware.
The comparison struck him like a physical blow.
He wasn't seeing Victoria walk away from him.
He was seeing Hailey, remembering the way she had looked in her small kitchen, completely absorbed in the simple task of cooking.
The realization left him breathless.
For years, he had been attracted to Victoria's polished beauty, her practiced charm, her carefully constructed image.
But now, watching her gracefully walk away, all he could think about was another woman's natural grace.
Hailey's shoulders had been softer, more vulnerable, but no less beautiful.
Eric remained seated at the table, his mind spinning from the unexpected comparison.
----
The clock on the props warehouse wall read 5:30 when Hailey finally gathered her things and headed toward the exit.
The day had dragged on longer than usual, filled with inventory checks and equipment maintenance that required more focus than her scattered mind could provide.
Every time her phone had buzzed with a notification, her heart had jumped, hoping it would be Eric, only to be disappointed by work messages or spam calls.
She made her way to the break room where Jojo was packing up his tools for the day.
"Hey Jojo, I'm heading out," she said, giving him a tired smile.
"You look like you've been hit by a truck again," Jojo replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "Still no word from Mr. Magazine Cover?"
"His name is Eric," Hailey said, though she couldn't help smiling at the nickname. "And no, nothing."
Donald looked up from organizing some props in a nearby crate. "Maybe he's busy saving the world or counting his money."
"You're terrible," Hailey said, but she was laughing despite herself.
"I'm just saying," Donald continued. "Rich guys have rich guy problems. Maybe his yacht broke down."
"I don't think he has a yacht," Hailey said.
"How do you know?" Jojo asked, shouldering his tool bag. "Did you ask him about his yacht collection?"
"We didn't really get to yacht talk," Hailey admitted.
"What did you talk about?" Donald asked, clearly enjoying this.
"Things," Hailey said vaguely.
"Things?" Jojo raised an eyebrow. "That's specific."
"You know what I mean," Hailey said, feeling her cheeks warm.
"Actually, I don't," Donald said with a grin. "Elaborate on these 'things.'"
"We talked about... life," Hailey said weakly.
"Life?" Jojo looked at Donald. "Did she just say 'life'?"
"She did," Donald confirmed. "Very philosophical, our Hailey."
"You two are impossible," Hailey said, but she was still smiling.
"We're just looking out for you," Jojo said more seriously. "Making sure you don't get too caught up in waiting for someone who might not be worth the wait."
"He's worth it," Hailey said quietly.
"How do you know?" Donald asked. "You've known him for what, one day?"
"Sometimes you just know," Hailey said.
"Sometimes you think you know," Jojo corrected gently. "There's a difference."
"You heading straight home?" he asked, changing the subject.
"That's the plan," Hailey said. "What about you guys?"
"Beer with the crew," Donald said with a grin. "You should come. Might take your mind off yacht boy."
"Maybe next time," Hailey said. "I'm beat."
"Plus she wants to be available in case Prince Charming calls," Donald added.
"I do not," Hailey protested, though they all knew it was true.
"Alright, but we're holding you to that next time," Jojo said, heading toward the exit. "Have a good evening, Hailey."
"You too, both of you. Thanks for all the hard work today and thanks for putting up with my mood today."
"What mood?" Donald called out. "You were perfectly normal. For someone having a nervous breakdown."
"Thanks, Donald. I appreciate that," Hailey said, waving him off as she headed toward the parking lot.
The parking lot was nearly empty now, most of the day crew having left hours earlier.
Her car sat alone under one of the tall light poles, looking small and tired in the gathering dusk.
Hailey fumbled with her keys, her hands still slightly stiff from the day's work.
She had just unlocked the door when her phone rang, the sound sharp and unexpected in the quiet evening air.
The number on the screen was unfamiliar, and she almost let it go to voicemail before curiosity got the better of her.
"Hello?" she answered, sliding into the driver's seat.
"Is this Hailey?" The voice was male, slightly rough around the edges, as if the speaker had been drinking.
"Yes, this is Hailey. Who is this?"
There was a pause, long enough that Hailey wondered if the connection had been lost.
"This is Eric," came the reply.