Chapter 11 Ember
EMBER
The bistro was tucked into a quiet corner across the city, far enough from Beacon Hill that we wouldn't run into hospital colleagues or committee members.
I'd chosen the location deliberately, scanning online reviews to find a place that was intimate without being too fancy, busy enough to provide cover but not so crowded we'd be overheard.
It was harder than I thought, but it was nice to be out with Nate instead of cooped up in an office or one of our homes.
Nate was already seated when I arrived, positioned at a corner table with a view of the door.
He stood when he saw me, pulling out my chair before I could reach for it myself.
The gesture was a little old-fashioned but I appreciated a man who knew how to treat a lady.
"Have you been waiting long?" I asked, setting my purse aside. It was chillier tonight, and I wore a sweater to offset the lower temps as summer started to fade into fall.
"Only five minutes. I ordered wine." He gestured to the bottle already open on the table, two glasses poured. "Red seemed appropriate for the weather."
I liked his thinking, though my stomach wasn’t really feeling like wine tonight. But I sipped it and indulged him.
He was paying for this and I didn't want to be rude. "I did some research today."
"About what?" he asked, sipping his own drink. The half smile he gave me made me swoon.
How could a man that incredibly attractive not have a spouse?
"The Lightkeeper committee rules." I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the document I'd bookmarked earlier. "I wanted to know what they could actually do to you. What authority they have."
His eyebrows rose. "And?"
"According to their bylaws, a Lightkeeper can't be forced to resign without documented proof of misconduct that directly violates the community values the position represents.
" I read from the screen. "Misconduct is defined as criminal activity, public intoxication, or behavior that brings demonstrable harm to the reputation of the festival organization. "
"Dating my assistant doesn't qualify as misconduct under that definition," Nate said with a smirk, and then he said, "And I've got the best assistant on the planet. Very thorough."
I ignored his latter comment and said, "Not technically, no. They can pressure you and make it uncomfortable. But they can't actually remove you unless you break one of those specific rules." I set my phone down. "I thought you should know that."
He reached across the table and took my hand. "Thank you for looking into that. For taking the initiative."
His touch was so gentle, I had to smile at him.
Being in public without being scrutinized felt nice.
It made me begin to believe that we could actually have something going more than the fling, especially after the way he'd been so compassionate lately.
"I figured someone needed to know what we're actually dealing with." I squeezed his fingers. "The whispers and the gossip are awful, but they're not grounds for removal. As long as we're not breaking any actual rules, they have to let you serve out the term."
"Which ends on Christmas Eve," he said.
"Four months." I calculated quickly in my head. "We can survive four months of scrutiny."
"Can we?" His voice was quiet, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
It was like he was asking me personally if I was going to be okay with it. I didn’t know what to think but I would sure try.
"I think so. I hope so." I met his gaze. "I'm tired of running, Nate. I've been running for two years, and I don't want to do it anymore. That situation with Brad just made me flighty."
The server appeared with menus, and we reluctantly pulled our hands apart to order.
I chose pasta with roasted vegetables.
Nate ordered the same, adding a request for bread to start. When the server left, we settled back into our conversation easily.
He told me about a medical student who'd fainted during a surgery observation that morning, hitting the floor hard enough to need stitches.
I laughed at his description of the attending physician's exasperation, then shared a story about one of the nurses who'd accidentally sent a complaint email about the cafeteria food to the entire hospital staff.
The conversation flowed naturally from work to personal territory.
He asked about my college plans and my career path, and I felt like he was genuinely interested.
"I think about it sometimes," I admitted. "I was studying human resources when everything fell apart. I'd always wanted to work in organizational development, helping companies build better workplace cultures."
"That's impressive," Nate said, "and ambitious."
"I used to think so. Now it feels distant. I dropped out before I could finish my senior year, and starting over feels overwhelming." I broke off a piece of bread and buttered it slowly. "But maybe someday. Once things settle down and I have more stability."
"You could finish here," he suggested. "Boston has excellent programs. And if cost is a concern, the hospital has tuition assistance for staff who want to pursue relevant degrees."
I looked up at him. "You're serious?"
"Completely. You're talented, Ember. You have instincts for managing people and systems that most human resources professionals spend years developing. If you want to finish your degree and work toward becoming head of HR, I'd support that."
I let the idea ruminate in the back of my mind while I savored a bite of the bread. "Head of HR for the hospital?" I could get used to the sound of that.
"Or for the larger medical organization. We have facilities across the region, and the central HR department is always looking for people with vision." He smiled. "You could shape the culture of the entire organization."
The server returned with our pasta, interrupting, and we dug in hungrily.
Though the lingering thought started to cause hope to spring to life in my chest.
I'd all but given up on that tiny dream, but maybe it wasn’t dead in the water, after all.
Between bites, we traded childhood stories.
He told me about growing up in the Midwest, and how he rose above a lot of the stigma of being "home grown".
When it meandered into uncomfortable territory revolving around his father's need to micromanage his life, he spoke more quietly, but I let him speak freely.
I could tell he and his father had some animosity between them and I didn't think it was right to inject my opinion.
But he seemed to snap out of it and smile at me as he twirled pasta around his fork.
"When I have children someday, I feel like we'll have a much better relationship."
The casual mention of future children made my heart skip.
I tried to picture Nate as a father and found the image came easily.
Patient and protective, willing to get down on the floor to play and romp.
The idea of him cradling a baby in his arms made me swoon again.
I found myself staring at him starry-eyed.
We continued to chat and share childhood stories, especially about Christmases past, given how so many of our responsibilities together were clustered around holiday tradition.
I found that Nate loved Christmas as much as me, though he probably didn't still have his nativity out in his apartment like me.
The conversation carried us out the door and into the crisp air, where we walked the sidewalks under dusky skies and fell quiet.
Nate's hand brushed against mine, and I reached out to lace our fingers together.
It felt like the natural thing to do, but it riled me up too much.
Being with him like this felt so natural.
I didn't want it to end.
We turned down a side street lined with older buildings, the storefronts dark and the foot traffic nonexistent, but it was the fastest way to his car.
Nate pulled me toward the shadow of an alley between two shops, and I went willingly, snickering as I asked, "What are you doing?" It felt slightly naughty and made my heart beat oddly.
He pressed me against the brick wall and kissed me hard.
His mouth was demanding, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me flush against him.
I wasn't sure how to respond at first because it felt so dangerous and risky to kiss him in public, but the way he pursued me, I couldn’t resist.
I ended up kissing him back and finding myself so turned on, I didn't want to stop.
"We should go," I gasped between kisses. "Before someone sees."
"Where?" His lips moved to my neck, and I arched into the contact. No way I was giving up on this. I just thought privacy was better.
"My apartment. It's closer."
He pulled me, still chuckling and groping me all the way to his car another block down the street, and the heat never died down while we drove.
When we finally reached my apartment, I fumbled with my keys while he stood behind me with his hands on my hips.
The door opened, and we stumbled inside, barely making it past the threshold before we were kissing again.
Clothes scattered across the floor.
His shirt, my sweater, shoes kicked off and abandoned.
We made it to the bedroom through sheer determination, our hands exploring and our breathing ragged.
We collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, the mattress dipping under our weight as Nate hovered over me, his eyes dark with desire that mirrored my own.
I reached up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that had grown since morning, and he captured my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm before pinning it gently above my head.
The gesture sent a thrill through me, a mix of vulnerability and trust that made my pulse race even faster.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down my collarbone. "I've been thinking about this all night, about having you like this, just us."
I smiled up at him, my free hand sliding into his hair to pull him closer. "Only all night? I've been imagining it since that alley. You were so bold out there, pressing me against the wall like you couldn't wait another second."