Chapter Eleven #2
I twirled the glass in my fingers, letting the memory roll over me.
"He was loud," I said finally. "Always in motion.
He once convinced me to build a treehouse out of plywood and zip ties.
It collapsed the first time we both got in, but-" I smiled, "we survived.
And we were covered in splinters, but we laughed for years about it. And he only got crazier."
Gareth nodded, sipping his drink, waiting.
"He made up songs," I went on, my words getting faster.
"He’d write me fake report cards. If I was ever in trouble with anyone, even mom and dad, he had my back.
He knew every secret passage in every house we lived in.
And he-" I stopped, throat tight, and swallowed hard as my nose burned and tears stung in my eyes, "he would have loved this place.
He would have had the run of it memorized in a week. "
I looked up, expecting pity or discomfort. Instead, Gareth watched me with a steady calm. It almost pissed me off, the way he just let me talk, not rushing to fill the silence or fix my feelings.
"Sounds like you miss him," he said quietly.
"Every day," I said, surprised to realize it wasn't a lie. "But it feels good to remember the good stuff. Most people only want to hear about the loss and how I’m holding up while telling me they can’t imagine or wouldn’t survive the pain."
He nodded again. "Loss isn’t interesting. The truth is," he said. "What matters is what you remember."
We sat like that, just breathing, the two of us and the echo of all our ghosts.
When the silence got too heavy, I tried to lighten it. "He would have given you hell," I said. "He liked to goad authority figures and like I said, he’d be all over you to protect me. He’d threaten your life if you ever hurt me."
Gareth smiled. “We’d have been in harmony on that one.”
My heart warmed.
"But you’re different," I said, and instantly wanted to snatch the words back. "Sorry. That sounded-"
"It's fine," he said. "You can say it."
There was another long pause, but this one felt less loaded. More like the calm after a storm.
"Thank you," I said, for the drink, for asking, for not treating me like a wound that would never heal.
He shrugged. "You did the same for me."
With that, he stood, set his glass down, and leaned over me. I thought he was going to reach for my face, but instead he just put his hand on my shoulder, gentle, like he was trying not to spook a stray animal. He bent his head and kissed my forehead.
The gesture was so sweet I almost started laughing, which would have ruined the moment, so instead I patted his hand and said, "You're a secret softie, you know."
"Don't tell anyone," he said, his voice just a little rougher than before.
"I won't," I promised. "But I might use it as blackmail if you ever try to fire me."
He snorted, and it felt like a win.
We cleaned up, straightened our shirts, and pretended to be normal adults. But as I left the study, I caught my reflection in the glass panel of the door.
I was still smiling, even though my eyes were shiny and my hands still shook.
It was the best I'd felt in years.
I didn't even make it back to my room before I started texting Ruby. She was probably elbows-deep in dough or crisis-writing recipes to not forget them, but she always answered me, no matter how dumb the hour or the message.
I just slow-danced with my boss in his study, and he kissed me, and I think my brain is soup.
Her reply was instantaneous. You’re not wrong. Tell me you’re not wearing pants right now. Tell me you did the thing again.
I shook my head. It wasn’t like that, it was… a moment but not a sexy one.
Silence.
But I couldn’t stand that. Rubes, I think I’m in love with him.
Finally. Took you long enough to admit it, babe.
I laughed, soft and stupid, and dropped onto the chair before the french doors, knees to my chin.
I know I’m going to get hurt. There’s no way this ends with me, like, riding off with him into the sunset.
Nice visual. But why don’t you just enjoy the sunrise while it’s there.
I hate when you get all wise and shit.
Too bad. You deserve it.
I blinked back tears. He’s going to destroy me.
You say that like it’s a bad thing.
I thought about that for a while, the way Gareth had held me, the weird tenderness of his hands, the look on his face when he thought I wasn’t watching. It would absolutely end in flames, but for once, I was the one holding the match.
I want to see what happens. I meant it.
Then do it. Go all in. You’ve spent your whole life keeping people at arm’s length and pretending you don’t need anyone. Maybe it’s time to need someone.
It’s always so simple in your head.
Life is simple. We’re the complicated ones. Also, you should definitely get laid as may times as you can. For, like, health reasons.
I laughed, a short, happy sound. I’ll put it on my calendar.
She sent a meme of an angry kitten with the words “GO FORTH AND CLAW” on it. I tossed my phone on my bed and watched the garden, the moonlight turning everything silver.
And I wondered if Gareth was doing the same thing: pacing, thinking, maybe regretting. Or wanting me as much as I wanted him – a girl could dream.
I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to imagine a world where I let myself have something, anything, without already rehearsing the ending.
When I went to bed, I dozed off and on, and every dream was a remix of the same theme, waltzing in the dark, spinning, spinning, his arms tight around my waist, his breath at my ear. I woke up half a dozen times, hand pressed to my chest like I could keep my heart from jumping out.
In the wee hours of the morning, I watched the sun rise, gold creeping over the stone and lighting up the property. I thought about the NDA in my drawer, the clause that said I could walk away at any time, no strings.
But I didn't want to walk away. Not anymore.
I wanted to see how far I could fall.
So I picked up my phone and scrolled through my old texts with Dolan, just to remind myself that I could love and lose and still get out of bed the next day.
Then I texted Gareth. Just a single word.
More?
I didn't expect an answer.
But I wanted one.