Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
AUDRA
Morning doesn’t feel heavy.
That’s the first thing I notice.
Not light. Not euphoric. Just… normal. The kind of normal that doesn’t ask me to brace for anything.
I shower, dress, drink my coffee. I don’t replay the night. I don’t rehearse conversations that haven’t happened yet.
When I get to the office, the building hums the way it always does. Familiar. Functional. Grounded.
My office door is open.
The flowers are still alive.
Alex texted me twice overnight—rotated stems, adjusted light. There’s a third message waiting when I check my phone.
Alex: They’re divas. But they’ll survive.
I smile despite myself.
Ten minutes later, Derek appears in the doorway.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t hover. He waits until I look up.
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning.”
He steps in, far enough to talk, not far enough to crowd. Jacket off. Coffee in hand. Steady.
“How are you doing,” he asks.
Not loaded. Not careful in a way that feels like fear. Just… checking.
“I’m good,” I say. And then, because it’s true, “You?”
“Same,” he replies. “Let me know if that changes.”
I nod.
His eyes flick to the flowers. He doesn’t comment right away.
“Thank you,” I say. “For those.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Alex knows how to keep them alive longer,” I add. “He’s taken this on as a personal mission.”
That earns a smile. Small. Real.
“Of course he has.”
“He’s aggressive about his blooms.”
“I’ve noticed.”
The exchange settles easily. No awkwardness. No overcorrection.
“I wanted to make sure you knew,” he says, “that there’s no expectation attached to any of this.”
I meet his gaze. He’s not asking for reassurance. He’s stating a boundary.
“I know,” I say.
“Good.”
He shifts slightly, like he’s about to leave.
“There’s a board call this afternoon,” he says. “Chuck’s name came up. I shut it down.”
No drama. No heroics.
“Thank you,” I say.
He nods once. “I’ll see you later.”
And then he does something that matters more than any of the words.
He leaves.
He does it a lot after that.
Not every day. Not on a schedule. But often enough that I notice.
He’ll pause at my doorway, head tipped just inside the frame.
“How’s it going.”
Or, “You need anything before I disappear.”
Sometimes I say no. Sometimes I ask a question. Sometimes I just look up and nod.
One day he notices a new book on my desk—a romance fantasy everyone’s talking about. He says he’s heard of it. Asks if it’s good. Says he might give it a try.
Another day he pokes his head in to tell me about a new piece of Michael Jordan memorabilia he’s thinking of adding to his collection.
He never stays longer than invited.
Never takes a chair unless I offer it.
It’s consistent without being performative.
That’s new.
The days stack quietly.
Derek doesn’t hover. He doesn’t disappear either. When we cross paths, he’s present. Warm. Professional. He shows up when he says he will. Leaves when it makes sense to leave.
He doesn’t reward himself for restraint.
That’s new too.
At some point—I couldn’t tell you exactly when—I realize something without meaning to.
I’m not watching him.
Not tracking tone.
Not bracing for shifts.
Not translating behavior for subtext.
That alone tells me something has changed.
A few weeks later, I’m sitting at a bar with Jamie and Levi after work.
Low lights. Decent wine. The kind of place where no one expects a performance.
“You’re quieter than usual,” Jamie says.
“I’m thinking,” I reply.
Levi lifts his glass. “Dangerous.”
I exhale. “Derek’s been… steady.”
Jamie’s brows lift. “That’s not a word you used to use for him.”
“No,” I admit. “It’s new.”
Levi studies me. “And?”
“And I don’t feel managed,” I say. “Or rushed. Or like I’m carrying his emotions for him.”
Jamie nods slowly. “That’s a big shift.”
“I know.”
Levi leans back. “Do you trust it?”
I don’t answer right away.
“I trust that it’s real,” I say finally. “I don’t know yet if it lasts.”
Jamie smiles softly. “That’s all anyone ever knows.”
I let that sit.
Later, alone, I think about Derek in a way I haven’t let myself in weeks.
Not as a problem.
Not as something to fix.
Just as a man I still want. A man I find attractive and sexy as hell. A man I would love to spend time in bed with, naked and writhing.
I don’t attach meaning to that yet.
I don’t have to.