Chapter 11
Nate waited until that evening to come to my office.
Most of the staff had gone home. I was reviewing revised catering numbers because columns didn't ask whether I was all right.
He stood in the doorway. “Can we talk?”
“Is that a request or advance notice?”
“A request.”
I gestured toward the chair across from my desk.
He sat but didn't settle back. “I was wrong this morning.”
“You were.”
“Were you hoping I'd make your apology easier?”
“No. I hoped you'd meet me somewhere near the middle.”
“You wanted to threaten my husband during a professional allegation. There is no middle.”
“He tried to destroy your reputation because you had dinner with me.”
“I know what he did. I was in the room.”
Nate stood, paced once to the window and turned back. “Do you know how frustrating it is to watch someone attack a person you care about and be told the useful thing is to sit quietly?”
“Yes. Women have been doing it for centuries.”
His mouth compressed. “That was deserved.”
“You don't protect me by becoming another man who decides what I need.”
“I wasn't trying to decide for you.”
“You told me you were calling him after I said no.”
He looked down at his hands.
“When my marriage was failing, I did nothing,” he said. “Rachel would tell me she was unhappy, and I'd wait for her to calm down. If we didn't argue, I told myself the problem wasn't serious. By the time I understood silence was a decision, she'd already found an apartment.”
I hadn't expected the confession, and he didn't deliver it prettily.
“Now you overcorrect,” I said.
“Apparently.”
“That's not my fault.”
“I know.” He sat again. “I should've listened when you told me to stop. I'm sorry.”
I waited for the sentence that would explain why his mistake was actually evidence of how much he cared.
It didn't come.
“Thank you,” I said.
“That's it?”
“Did you want a certificate?”
“Maybe a beverage.”
I pointed to the cabinet behind him. “There's scotch.”
He found two glasses and poured without asking whether I wanted ice. He remembered I didn't.
We drank in silence for a moment.
“I don't know how to let someone help without waiting for the moment they take over,” I said.
“You don't owe me for caring about you.”
“That's dangerously close to a perfect response.”
“It isn't perfect,” he said. “Part of me still thinks I could frighten him into behaving.”
“You couldn't.”
“I know. Men who behave because they're frightened tend to wait until no one's watching.”
“And you're still tempted.”
“Very.”
“Why?”
He rubbed his thumb across a scratch in the desk. “Because sitting beside someone else's pain makes me feel powerless. I don't like it.”
“Neither do I.”
“You hide it better.”
“I've had more practice.”
He nodded, and neither of us tried to improve the truth.
“Give me time. I'll ruin it.”
“You already did this morning.”
He raised his glass. “Excellent. Then the pressure's off.”
I smiled despite myself.
Nate came around the desk and leaned against its edge, close but not touching me.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“With Bennett?”
“With us.”
I appreciated the question even though I didn't have an easy answer.
“You ask before fighting my battles.”
“Agreed.”
“I try not to bite you when you offer help.”
“That part's negotiable.”
I looked up at him. “And you stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Making me laugh when I'm trying to stay angry.”
“No.”
It was the first rule either man had refused that week, and the only refusal I liked.
I put down my glass and reached for him.
He kissed me once, then glanced at the open office door.
“I assume you have rules about desks,” he said.
“I have rules about security cameras.”
“Much more practical.”
We ordered Chinese food and ate from cartons on the sofa where nervous brides usually cried. Nate stole my broccoli, so I transferred water chestnuts he hated into his carton. It was ordinary. No declarations, strategy or need to turn the evening into evidence.
When he left, he kissed me at the elevator. “I still hate that he hurt you.”
“You're allowed to hate it. If he contacts the conservatory again, tell counsel, then tell me.”
Nate considered arguing, saw my face and nodded.
The elevator doors closed between us.
I returned to my office and found three water chestnuts lined across my keyboard.