RAVEN
I had pieced it all together in the following ten minutes, with my official rejection of the man I loved crunching in my hand, then I got in my car, kicked my uncomfortable shoes off, and drove to him in my stocking feet.
Burke had been about to fire me.
There was no traffic, and the streetlamps streaked by as I broke the speed limit to get to him. My phone was face down on the passenger seat. Out of the corner of my eye, it lit up, bleeding light from the space between the device and the leather. I didn’t answer. Dying on the way to him would defeat the purpose.
Oona was raving about the SSV show. She said she saw us in the hall together, not knowing Marie was Roman’s boss.
I wasn’t sure if my job was completely safe. I wasn’t sure if any job was ever completely safe. But it was safe from my love for Roman Bianchi.
When I saw him in the office, he was trapped.
I passed the edge of the park. The grassy field he’d carried me over twice was spotted with dim yellow lights. The chess pieces were put away. Leaves rustled over the board. I parked and took a breath. His car was in the driveway.
He’d made partner, then quit to protect me.
What would we do now?
My feet hurt when I put my heels back on, as if protesting losing their freedom so soon. I left my shawl in the car and went unprotected into the chilly night. As I walked across the street to his front door, I asked myself what I wanted from him. From us. I wanted everything, but he’d given up so much already.
His door opened and he stood in the frame with his jacket and tie gone. He worked on undoing his French cuff while my heels clacked along the walk.
“Ms. Crosby,” he said.
“Mr. Bianchi.”
We faced each other. He absently slipped his cufflinks in his pocket. I put my hands on my hips.
“I didn’t tell you how nice you looked in that underwear,” he said.
“You didn’t have to quit.”
“On the contrary. If I wanted you, I had to. And I want you.”
I started to explain that he didn’t have to resign. We could have figured it out somehow, but he held his hand out.
“Let me finish.”
I crossed my arms impatiently. I hoped he wasn’t going to talk all that long. I wanted to kiss him, and soon. But his posture was clear. No kissing. Not yet.
“I could have stayed with you on the down low,” he continued. “But that’s not a long-term solution, and I want a long-term solution. I could have been assigned outside Neuronet, but that would have damaged my seniority in the firm. I wasn’t letting you quit. I wasn’t going to let you be fired. I wasn’t getting in the way of what you need.”
I couldn’t bear it. I had to talk.
“But you wanted to make partner.”
“True.”
“You love your job.”
“False,” he said. “I enjoy my job. It’s you I love.”
Did my feet hurt?
Were my arms cold in the spring night?
My eyes. Were they dry? Or did a layer of tears form between me and the sight of him?
“I don’t want to hurt you,” was all I could choke out before I had to swallow a throat full of sobs.
“You’re not hurting me.” He broke the threshold and took my bare shoulders in his hands. “The partnership was a brass ring, but when you walked out of my office, I realized I traded a gold ring for brass. You are my ambition. You are my mountain to climb. You’re my only aspiration.”
I took a step closer and put my hands on his chest. He’d never felt so real and solid as that moment, heavy and hard in my hands. A man of substance.
“What are you going to do?”
“I can hang out my own shingle. Nothing gets respect in this town like a guy striking out on his own.”
All that might have been true, but I wasn’t ready for it. I met his eyes, nearly clear in the glare of the house lights.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Be sorry if you don’t want me.”
“Oh, Roman—”
“Is that you saying you’re sorry?” His thumb wiped a tear from my cheek.
“It’s me saying I want you. I’m sorry it came to this, but I love you, and I want you. And thank you.” I tried to paint my voice with humility and gratitude, but couldn’t meet the depth of what I felt in my heart. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough for changing your life for me.”
He brushed my biceps with his fingertips. “You’re goosebumpy.”
The cold caught up with me. The neat up-do felt like a ton of bricks on my head, and my feet burned at the balls.
“It’s chilly.” He kissed me gently, his lips an invitation and a promise.
We kissed between words right on his front walk, as if I’d finally seen the light after he’d quit. As if we’d just begun the journey of our lives.
“How about a hot bath?” he said, kissing me again. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand.
“My feet are going to love that.”
“The rest of you isn’t going to complain, either.”
His hands slid down my arms and we wove our fingers together. He leaned back and we walked into his house together.
—GAME OVER—