My Saturday mornings usually start with Sudoku and reruns of Living Single, but today is different. Instead, I’m on FaceTime with my sister, catching her up on everything I’ve been trying to sort through on my own. My love life, my work, the blurred lines between the two. If anyone can help me make sense of it all without letting me spiral too far, it’s Adamma.
She’s sitting on her front porch, three hours ahead in Virginia. “Let me get this straight, Ndidi: You and the journalist who’s been following you around are dating now, and your smug, micro-aggressive employee confronted you about it yesterday?”
“Geoffrey was interviewing me and seeing what my day-to-day looked like for a feature on Giga Giving. But he’s done with that part of it. Now he’s talking to other people to round out the story. Your description of Henry is accurate, though. He’s the worst,” I deadpan. “And, yeah, Geoffrey and I are kind of dating. We’re figuring it out.”
“How do you feel about that?” Adamma says, her therapist instincts switching on.
“Confused…guilty.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t enjoy the only romantic connection I’ve had since Alex died without second-guessing it. If this turns into something real, I don’t know what the repercussions will be. The career he’s spent his entire life building could fall apart.” I fidget with a loose end of the satin scarf wrapped over my bohemian braids.
“I’m also worried about ruining Giga’s reputation before it takes shape. I launched the foundation to give Alex’s money away, to support causes I actually care about: education, gender equality, women’s health. Getting caught up in a scandal would just overshadow everything, especially because Alex was so revered in Silicon Valley—the genius who turned a simple idea into a global platform.”
My eyes lower. “The guilt of moving on from him weighs on me, too. He’s been gone for over a year now, and I’m still not sure if it’s too soon.”
Adamma’s eyebrows furrow. “I understand Alex created OneK, this oh-so-novel photo-sharing app. It was impressive and life-changing for both of you, especially after Facebook bought it. But, respectfully, you don’t owe him your future,” she says.
She adjusts herself and continues. “Carrying the weight of a $2.1 billion legacy isn’t something the average person has to do. Give yourself grace. Also, it’s your money, too. You and Alex were married, and you were with him before he even started OneK.” She narrows her eyes. “And it’s alright to move on. Personally, I think it’s good that you’re exploring something new.” Deep down, I know she’s right. I never thought Geoffrey and I would catch feelings when all of this started. But it’s been nice to remember what this kind of excitement feels like.
Still, everything seems muddled, and the tension with Henry doesn’t help. I’ve never cared for him. I only asked him to join Giga’s board committee because Alex had always looked up to him as a mentor. But I know he doesn’t respect me. He’s used to the Palo Alto boys’ club, so he doesn’t take well to a Black woman in charge. He’d have a conniption if he found out the truth about OneK—that I’m the one who figured out the app’s codebase when Alex couldn’t.
I hear Adamma’s husband enter the room, and he appears on camera, holding their son. “Hi, Auntie Didi!” Jalen shrieks. Tyrique bounces him up and down and waves to me before chiming in. “Sorry, but I’ve come to collect my wife so we can take Jay to his friend’s birthday party.”
“All good. She was just therapizing me,” I tease.
“Isn’t that why you called?” Adamma jests back. We laugh and say our goodbyes. As soon as I hang up, I get a text.
Geoffrey: “Morning! I hope you slept better than I did. Kinda had a hard time not being next to you.”
I’m not sure if he misses shadowing me, since he’s moved on to interviewing other sources, or if he misses holding me. Either way, I feel a small thrill.
Ndidi: “Maybe we can grab drinks at your friend’s bar sometime soon.”
I set my phone to “Do Not Disturb” and change into my bathing suit. Swimming a few laps in the pool helps clear my mind before I shower, get in my sweats, and head to the kitchen to grab a yogurt parfait. I drizzle some honey on top and scoop a spoonful, getting a good mix of granola and berries.
When I unlock my phone and check my email, I freeze mid-bite. There’s a message from Danny Oliveira, Alex’s coding friend who co-founded OneK…and the only other person who knows about my part in it. He never liked that I refused to take any credit for OneK. It felt wrong to him. Eventually, he left the company, took up surfing, and lived a more laid-back life outside of Palo Alto. I thought he was totally off the grid, but I guess not.
Subject: Journalist asking about OneK - just thought you should know
From: Danny Oliveira <dannyolive@gmail.com>
Hey Ndidi,
Hope you’re good! I know it’s been a while, but I just wanted to let you know that a journalist at Mainframe mag is looking into OneK. They got in touch with me and asked if Alex really created the app or if it was you. It felt grimy, so I told them to fuck off. I didn’t catch their name though, bc they called me out of the blue, and I hung up pretty fast. Figured I should reach out in case you didn’t know.
But I did talk to that Geoffrey guy for his article about your foundation. I didn’t mention anything about the start of OneK. I’m glad you’re doing your own thing now, and I hope he does your story justice. Hmu if you ever wanna catch up and reminisce on our shenanigans with Alex.
— Danny
Panic washes over me. Alex, Danny, and I were all tight-lipped about my role in coding OneK. But maybe there was a slip-up at some point, and word slowly but surely made its way to a journalist. I close my eyes to center myself, but I can’t steady my thoughts.
I finish my parfait, clean the dishes, and plop down in my favorite spot on the living room floor. I’m sitting on an emerald green velvet cushion placed near the neutral leather sectional that Alex bought when we first moved in. I liked the sofa, but I told him the space needed something warmer. After reading a House Beautiful feature about the “Auntie Aesthetic,” I bought some decorative velvet throw pillows for the couch and two matching floor cushions. Thinking back on such a mundane memory temporarily brings me comfort.
I reflect on my conversation with Adamma, and before I can stop myself, I text Geoffrey.
Ndidi: “Can you come over tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something important.”
The next morning, I distract myself with a few episodes of Summer House: Martha’s Vineyard before calling Wendy. As Giga’s co-executive director and a longtime confidante of both Alex and me, she’s the person I trust to keep a level head and a tight lid on sticky situations.
“Ms. Davis? Is everything OK?” she says, answering right away. I’m too preoccupied to remind her to call me by my first name.
I think about how to be honest without sounding too ominous. “I’m sorry for calling on a Sunday. I didn’t want to come to you with a work problem during the weekend.” I pause, and Wendy is silent. She gives me a moment to gather myself.
“I got an email from Alex’s old OneK co-founder, Danny. He warned me that a journalist might be working on an article about the company and how I was the one who created the app.” She’s still quiet, so I carry on. “And, well, it’s basically true. I wrote the code that got OneK up and running. I didn’t want anyone to know, so Alex, Danny, and I agreed to keep it a secret. I can explain why at a later date, but I’m calling because—”
“Is it Geoffrey?” Wendy says firmly, ready for war.
I should have anticipated that question and debunked it from the jump. “No, Danny said it’s someone at Mainframe,” I tell her. “He didn’t give them any information, but I’m concerned that they might publish something that could unfairly bring Alex’s character and OneK’s merit into question. It could also affect Geoffrey’s credibility as a reporter and Giga’s launch. I just…I need your help.” That final admission leaves me feeling physically taut but emotionally lighter.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” she says, not a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I have a few contacts at Mainframe. I’ll reach out to see if I can get more information and keep the story at bay.”
I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says before clearing her throat. “How are things between you and Geoffrey?” I can hear her smirk over the phone. I was nervous when she first told me she noticed my chemistry with him, but she was all for it.
“They’re OK,” I respond, unwilling to expand since I’m still making sense of everything. “Henry knows about us and cornered me on Friday, but I pretty much told him to mind his business. I’m worried he’s pocketing this information now to blow up my spot later, though.”
“He’s a prick, so that tracks. But there’s nothing Henry can say or do to take away what you’re building. Giga is yours. Plus, at the end of the day, your happiness is what matters. And, Ndidi, you deserve to be happy.” The conviction behind her words gives me a boost.
“Thank you, Wendy. I needed to hear that,” I say. “Also, thanks for calling me Ndidi.”
I’m expecting Geoffrey to arrive any minute now. The food I ordered from Tandoori House is warming up in the oven; meanwhile, I’m in my bedroom, slipping on a matching marigold lounge set and gathering my braids into a ponytail. Just as I tighten the adjustable hair tie, the doorbell rings. I go downstairs, and when I open the door, I have to stop my knees from buckling at the sight of Geoffrey.
He’s wearing a Chicago Bulls snapback, a black vintage Members Only jacket over a cream-colored crewneck, and matching fitted joggers. He looks good. My heart rate speeds up, but I collect myself. “Hey,” I say, going in for a hug.
I’m a little surprised by my gesture—how quickly I want to be held by him—and I can tell he is, too. “Hey,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist. I lead him to the living room after he takes off his shoes and jacket. “Anything I can help with in the kitchen?” he asks, probably smelling the reheated chicken biryani and garlic naan.
I swipe a speck of lint off the sofa and straighten a pillow. “No, just make yourself comfortable. I ordered from a restaurant nearby and kept it warm in the oven. I’ll bring everything out.” He nods and sits on one of the green velvet floor cushions, where we unexpectedly shared our first kiss a few weeks ago. I like how he instinctively settles into that spot, how natural it seems.
I take the food out of the oven, divide it between two plates, and carry them out on a couple of bamboo serving trays. “Thanks, it looks delicious,” he says, then hesitates. “I brought wine, but left it in the car because I wasn’t sure if it’d be appropriate for whatever you want to talk about. But I’m just letting you know I didn’t come empty-handed, and the option is there.” He lets out a nervous laugh, and it hits me that he’s been anxious for the past 24 hours.
“Geoffrey, I’m sorry if I scared you. I shouldn’t have been so vague in my text. Just to be clear, I still want to see where this goes.” He looks relieved, then confused. “Let’s save the wine for later, after I explain everything.” I go to the kitchen and come back with two iced teas. I hand Geoffrey his drink and sit on the floor cushion next to him.
I peer down and brush my hands against my shorts. “I know you interviewed Danny Oliveira for your article, and it’s not my place to know exactly what you guys talked about. But he withheld something we agreed to keep secret years ago, when he and Alex started OneK.” Geoffrey leans in, his gentle green eyes locked on me. Neither of us is interested in eating our food right now.
“The truth is, I’m the one who created the original codebase for OneK.” I bite my lip to keep it from quivering after the confession. “I always thought that part of the story would stay hidden, but Danny reached out yesterday and said someone at Mainframe is working on some sort of exposé about OneK. They contacted him to see if he’d admit that Alex never worked out the source code himself. I don’t know how they found out, but all I can think about is how this might affect your standing at Scale and Alex’s reputation, even if he’s gone.”
Geoffrey raises his eyebrows, leans back, and lets out a sharp exhale. He removes his hat before running his hands through his wavy black hair. “Ndidi—”
“It was my idea not to tell anyone,” I continue, the words pouring out now. “OneK was Alex’s brainwave. And I didn’t want to go into business with him. We were still figuring out our relationship, and it all would’ve been too much. Besides, I just laid the foundation for OneK. He’s the one who made it matter.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, and that you’re finding out this way. But if it helps, I talked to Wendy, and she’s going to see if someone she knows at Mainframe can put a pin in the story.”
I can see Geoffrey processing everything. He adjusts himself, closing the small space between us, and finally says, “How are you handling all of this? Are you OK?”
His words nearly undo the composure I’ve been clinging to. “I’m fine. I just don’t like the idea of Alex’s hard work being reduced to a scandal and your article being overshadowed or picked apart.”
Geoffrey takes my hand in his and repeats himself, his tone more resolute. “Are you OK?”
His touch makes it harder to keep my guard up, and for a moment, I can’t form a sentence. I wait for him to fill the silence, but he’s not budging. “I feel like this is all my fault,” I finally admit. “And I can’t shake the thought that our relationship is a ticking time bomb.”
He pulls me into an embrace and lets my self-reproach linger before sweeping it away. “None of this is your fault. Think about it: What have you actually done wrong?” I start to answer his rhetorical question, but he doesn’t let me. “I had a feeling you were involved in OneK more than you or Alex let on. I suspected it when I interviewed you guys for his profile years ago.”
I perk up, accidentally breaking away from his hold. I already knew that Geoffrey wrote one of the best features about Alex when OneK was taking off—that’s why Wendy and I agreed to let him interview me about Giga—but I don’t remember meeting him back then. “I thought I emailed my answers to your questions for Alex’s story,” I say. “Because my dad was still recovering from his heart attack…”
“No, we spoke,” Geoffrey assures me. “It was quick, maybe 10 minutes at a cafe, but you said you wanted to make the time. You wanted to support Alex.”
I run through my memories from over a decade ago. A ton of publications were interested in Alex’s founder story, so consequently, I did a lot of supplementary interviews. Eventually, they all kind of blurred together. “Why didn’t you tell me we met in person before?”
He brings his knees up and rests his arms on them. “I figured you’d say something if you remembered. And I didn’t want to make things awkward or seem like I was interested in writing about Giga just because of your relationship with Alex.”
He pauses, thinking carefully about what he’s going to say next. “Honestly, Alex was sharp, and I loved writing his profile. But I remember being captivated by you. And it wasn’t even a romantic feeling at the time. I mean, I thought you were beautiful, but anyone with eyes could see that. You just had this energy—cautious but quick-witted, intelligent…bright. It stuck with me. So when I had the opportunity to interview you and write about Giga all this time later, I had to take it. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you along the way.” His eyes slowly scan mine. “I’m sorry for dumping this on you. I guess you weren’t the only one keeping a secret.”
I try to organize my thoughts, but I’m stunned. “Geoffrey…I wish you had told me this sooner,” I manage to push the words past the lump in my throat. “I’m in no position to judge, but this is a lot to take in right now.”
“I know,” he resigns, his voice faint and unusually shaky.
We sit quietly, and I consider asking him where we should go from here. But then something in me settles into clarity. I straighten up, interlock our hands, and say, “I love you, too.”
This is what we needed—to release, to trust, to choose each other fully.
Geoffrey’s eyes light up, and he pulls me in again. I nuzzle into him and rest my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He pecks my forehead and squeezes me tighter. “Look, I get why you’re stressed about everything. I know you’re put under a microscope in ways that aren’t fair. But I’m going to be there for you. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.” He delicately traces my cheekbone with his thumb. “I trust that Wendy will handle the Mainframe issue. And as far as my article goes, I’m going to be fair and accurate. But I won’t cross any boundaries because I care about you, and the real story is the impact you’re making with Giga.”
“Thank you, Geoffrey. You have no idea how much that means to me. There’s one more thing, though,” I say, and he shifts nervously. “Henry knows about us.”
Geoffrey throws his head back and laughs so infectiously I can’t help but join in. “Fuck that guy,” he says. Suddenly, everything I was worried about before feels smaller and surmountable. Once we settle down, he lifts my chin to meet his gaze. We lean in, and our lips touch softly, again and again, until nothing is restrained.
Before we know it, we’re in my bedroom, shedding the last of our hesitation—and everything else. Our closeness softens into warmth: his touch, my breath, the sheets creased and shifting around us. We surrender to each other, and for the first time in a while, I’m not bracing for what comes next. I live in the certainty of this moment, and I let it be good.
