Two Months Later

The doorbell rang, causing me to scramble.

“Where did you throw my panties?” I yelled at the bathroom door. From the showering sounds coming from within, I guessed that Win couldn’t hear me.

Shit.

Underwear wasn’t a necessary condition for receiving delivery pizza, I decided. I stepped into my sweatpants and wrangled on one of Win’s ratty t-shirts. Though I was drowning in it, at least my breasts were covered. Better than flashing the delivery guy without meaning to.

Pizza collected, tip provided, and door closed behind me, I sank down to the ground and immediately ate a piece, that’s how hungry I was. Exertion does that to a girl.

Win found me sitting near the pile of shoes at the door, my face rapturous though slightly greasy, and he laughed for a full minute.

“This is the woman I love,” he said, as if to a studio audience. If we lived in a sitcom, I was definitely the chaotic power-woman who excelled at her job and fell apart at home.

Home.

The word meant so much more now. What had once been an almost meaningless signifier attached to some pantsuits and a place to sleep at night was now a word that resonated in my belly. That shook me emotionally when I said it to someone else.

Our home.

I’d moved in when I got back from the tour, and I hadn’t regretted a single second of it. Whereas before, I’d been Win’s guest and hadn’t felt fully comfortable in the house, now it was genuinely a place I bonded with and embraced.

“I love you, too, Win,” I said, my mouth half full of pepperoni. I held out the box to him.

Instead of picking it up and grabbing a slice, he took the box and slid down to sit next to me on the floor.

“This where we’re eating tonight?” he asked. He bit into the piece he was holding and put the box on the ground next to my court shoes.

“I couldn’t wait,” I said, mouth half full despite knowing my manners could have been better. “Too hungry.”

“Guess I should have let you have a break from all that sex,” he said. He waggled his eyebrows as if suggestive, even though he was actually proposing less sex, not more.

“Oh, you’d ‘let’ me?” I laughed. “I didn’t realize I was your hostage.”

“Sex hostage,” Win added.

“Mmm, yeah no, that sounds gross and totally non-consensual.”

“You’re right, strike it from the record please.”

“Stricken.”

“Moving on, I heard from a certain Freddie that you were amazing at work this week. Something about kicking a brief’s butt?”

“I did what I could,” I said. Though I was trying to play it cool, I was excited about how well the work had gone. A senior partner had sent me a congratulatory email about it, which was basically unheard of for my ilk.

“Your feet must be sore from all that butt kicking,” said Win.

There was a devious twinkle in his eye now, unless I was mistaken.

“Win,” I said, but before I could continue he swept me up in his arms and stood, taking me and my pizza with him. Peals of laughter escaped me, interspersed with shrieks to put me down.

“No, no,” he said. “Walking’s not good after you’ve exerted yourself like that. Better to be carried.”

“Ok, fine, you’re my manservant then.”

“At your service, Madame.”

Win stood up straighter, mimicking the posture of someone employed by a proper French lady.

“Where are we going, again?” I asked him.

He refused to break character.

“Great, well then I request that you put me down on the couch in the living room, Monsieur.”

“Oui, Madame,” he said. And we strode to the living room, where he deposited me gently on the couch.

“Will that be all, Madame?”

I shook my head. “No, please join me.” I patted the seat next to me.

“Ah, no, but that would be improper. I could not.”

“I insist,” I said. I raised an eyebrow imperiously to prove my point. When Win sat, he left a studied distance between us, as if we really were employer and servant. I shuffled closer.

“And what should we watch?” I asked him, picking up the remote and gesturing towards the television.

“That is up to you, Madame. I could not decide for you, you see.”

I smiled at him, turned on the TV, and went to my Netflix account, where I picked the next episode of Gilmore Girls in my re-watch. If Win was disappointed, he said nothing, didn’t even groan.

“This French butler act is awesome,” I said, curling up next to him. “Lets me indulge in my girly TV without judgment.”

“Madame’s taste is impeccable,” Winston said, though he cuddled me closer, putting an arm around me.

I guess some parts of the play-acting were too difficult to continue.

Glad to see the avoidance of physical contact lost out before the avoidance of Gilmore Girls.

The episode wasn’t particularly good; Lorelei spent way too much time talking about her own problems when clearly she should have been focused on Rory’s. Jess made an appearance, which made Win drop character completely.

“The show’s not so bad, after all,” he said, nudging me.

“I thought it was the schlocky bullshit that made you want to gouge your eyes out?” I said. “Direct quote.”

“Something about watching it with you, living with you, seems to have numbed my brain.”

“Ah, so a numbed brain is what you need to enjoy watching TV with me?”

“Depends on the show,” he said. And then he laughed at his own joke.

“But seriously,” I said. “Thanks for indulging me.”

Win turned my chin towards him, his eyes glimmering in the light of the television as he stared down at me.

“Anytime,” he said. And he kissed me, lips still tasting of pizza, and hugged me closer.

* * *

“Kaycee,” said a voice, one I couldn’t concentrate on because I was racing against the clock to finish an email before a deadline. After the familiar whooshing sound of a sent message reached my ears, I turned.

It was Kazinsky, senior named partner and lawyer with whom I’d barely ever conversed. I was flattered he knew my name before I remembered that it was on my door.

“Mr. Kazinsky,” I said, getting up halfway off my chair to shake his hand. “How can I help you?”

He stood there, hovering for a moment before I offered him the seat in front of me.

Nothing like a senior partner encounter to make me forget every basic detail of etiquette.

“By now, surely you’ve heard that it’s intern hiring season.”

“Yes, of course.”

EKT hired a few interns each year from the local law schools, offering low pay and some college credit in exchange for the chance to trot behind us to court. I’d heard about how prestigious the internships were when I was in grad school, but I’d never applied. It was mainly for second-year students in law school, not graduate programs.

Still, I’d wondered.

Now I was here. The thought nearly distracted me from Kazinsky once more, who would likely leave the conversation wondering why they’d offered me a permanent position in the first place.

Get it together, K.

“We’d like for you to be involved in the hiring decisions this year.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue from shock. A strangled sound emitted from my throat before I regained composure. It was beyond an honor.

I said so.

“Please, it’s an administrative duty. A coveted one, yes, but still an administrative duty. The hiring committee is graying, and, well, let’s face it—rather overwhelmingly male.”

I’d heard that, but I knew well enough not to mention it now.

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“The firm would be happy for you to be included. Speak with Chelsea about it sometime.”

And without another opportunity for me to respond, Kazinsky swept out of my office, leaving me sorting through my emotions. Mostly, I was beyond excited. Perhaps a bit frustrated, feeling somewhat tokenized. But mostly excited.

I was able to hone the feeling down to 95% excitement by the time the day ended, when I joined Freddie in the bar down the street for a beer before heading home.

“It’s no joke,” she said to me over our drinks, the music pumping so loud I had to lean in closely to hear her. “Dozens of people at the firm would kill for that kind of committee work. Don’t discount it just cause he said that. Seriously.”

“All right,” I said.

“Kay,” Freddie said, tilting her head at me admonishingly.

“What?”

“Could you sound a little more excited?”

“Hells yeah!” I said, this time channelling more of my feelings into the sentence. It was like shaking my head free of cobwebs, only with beer. That was part of why Freddie was a great friend.

“There’s my girl!” she said.

We clinked our beers together and took a swig, and when I put the bottle back down I found we’d been surrounded by other colleagues and friends.

“What’s all this?” I said to Freddie, who was smiling the kind of smile that told me something was intentional about this swarming.

“We never got to actually celebrate your full-time gig, girl,” she said. “What with your broken heart and all that.”

“Oh my God,” I said, scanning Malcolm and Tanner’s faces as they raised glasses towards me, grinning. Others joined them when they noticed what was happening. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I know we don’t,” said Freddie. She tossed her lightly curled hair to the side and smiled at me. “But we want to.”

In the midst of my giddy absorption of the good cheer being radiated my way, I almost didn’t notice that someone else had joined the party. Almost. His shining blue eyes would have given me pause if I wasn’t already speechless.

Winston smiled at me as he slid into the booth, greeting Freddie like an old friend and introducing himself to some of the coworkers he hadn’t met.

“You were in on this, too?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Of course! I’m always in for a party.”

“You’re too sweet,” I said. “You shouldn’t have.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I always should have. Ideally, way earlier than I did. But we take what comes to us, don’t we?”

“This conversation still about my new job?” I asked him, leaning on my elbows on the table. Win had shuffled closer, his right hand resting on my hip while we talked, as if there were a bar where just the two of us existed, where the hustle and hubbub around us faded into a hushed and subtle background noise, where the light dimmed except a spotlight shining on us and us alone.

He always made me feel that way, no matter the circumstances. Whether we were at a bar surrounded by my friends and colleagues, or on a stage before he went out to play to thousands of amped-up fans, or cuddled up on the couch together watching television I knew full well he hated, Win looked at me like I was the only person in the world for him.

He made me feel like magic, and I was endlessly thankful we’d finally found each other, however long it had taken.

“No, I don’t think it is,” he said. And he kissed me. It hinted at the lust I felt in an undercurrent, one that lay below the sweetness of how tenderly his lips were pressed against mine. Win took my left hand in his, and underneath the table he slipped a ring on my finger.

I glanced down to see a diamond sparkling up at me almost like it was winking. Suddenly, we weren’t just the only two people in the bar. We were the only ones in the world. I struggled through a fog of happy confusion.

“Marry me?” he said, his voice casual as if asking whether I wanted pepperoni pizza or Hawaiian.

“Ok,” I said. No other words came to me, despite my training in high-pressure situations where I needed to think on my feet. I was at a loss.

“You’re cute when you’re speechless,” he whispered. Winston kissed me on the cheek, squeezed my newly bejewelled hand, and resumed paying attention to the world around us, taking Malcolm up on an offer of a shot, and asking Freddie about how her work had been going. But beneath the table, just between us, he held my hand all night.