Chapter 26 #2
"I thought you'd see all this..." She gestures weakly toward the kitchen. "...and only see the mess."
I tip her chin up until she's looking at me.
"I do see it."
Fresh tears gather in her eyes.
"I see flour."
A tiny laugh escapes her through the tears.
"I see tomato sauce on the ceiling."
"I don't know how that happened."
"I believe you."
I brush another tear from her cheek with my thumb.
"But mostly..."
I smile softly.
"...I see someone who spent an entire evening trying to do something kind for me."
She closes her eyes. "I ruined dinner."
"It's just food."
"I failed."
"No."
"I really did."
I shake my head. "You attempted something outside your experience because you wanted to make me happy." I pause. "I don't call that failure."
She studies me for several long seconds.
"What do you call it?"
"Love."
The word hangs between us. I wasn't planning to say it. I don't even know if she hears it the way I meant it.
Not I love you.
Not yet.
Just...
Love.
The act of putting someone else's happiness ahead of your own.
I glance around the kitchen again. A few weeks ago, this room would have bothered me. It would have given me hives. I would have had to leave and get a professional cleaning crew in stat.
Now...
It's simply a kitchen that two people can clean together.
"I estimate twenty-three minutes."
Her lashes flutter once, like the words take a second to land. “For what?"
"Recovery."
"You think we can save dinner?"
"No." A smile tugs at my mouth. "But I think we can save the garlic bread."
She laughs—a real laugh this time—and suddenly the flour on the counters doesn't seem nearly as important.
We end up eating garlic bread and I decide to show her something else that I love. My gaming room.
“Follow me.”
We go to the end of the hallway and down three stairs and I enter the code to the room and push open the door.
"This is where I spend too much time."
Maci steps inside and slowly turns in a circle.
Three curved monitors sit above a walnut desk wide enough for four people to game side by side.
Controllers line a floating shelf beneath them, each resting in its own charging dock.
Display cases hold pieces of gaming history—my first controller, the notebook where I sketched my first game, prototypes from Synatrix, and championship trophies from tournaments I'd won before anyone outside the gaming world knew my name.
Hanging on the walls are sketches of me when I was a baby, one when I’m about twelve playing video games and one more recent in a suit.
“These are incredible.”
“Greyson draws. When I finally moved out, he gave them to me. I didn’t know they existed. They stay here where only I can see them.”
Maci doesn’t try to go deeper, instead she stops in front of a cracked headset. "You kept a broken headset?”
"I couldn't afford another one."
She smiles. “Fairly sure your brothers and dad could afford another one.”
“They could,” I admit, but don’t expand on why it means so much to me.
"I think I like this room best."
"Why?"
"It doesn't feel like a billionaire lives here."
"What does it feel like?"
She looks around again before answering. "It feels like a kid who never stopped dreaming."
I don't respond because she's right.
She notices the fourth monitor sitting off to the side.
"What's that one for?"
"I've been building something."
Her eyes brighten immediately.
"Can I see?"
"I was hoping you'd ask."
I wake the monitor.
A simple menu appears.
No title.
No polished graphics.
Just gray placeholder blocks, rough character models of baseball players that still need detail and a playing surface that still needs texture and modeling.
She laughs. "This looks terrible."
"It does."
"You've made billions and this is the best you can do?"
"It's pre-alpha."
"Ohhh..." She nods dramatically. "Fancy programmer words."
“It’s more than a baseball game. The players will have to rehab after injury.
There will be away game antics based on my brother’s stories.
Trophies for the best locker room pranks voted on by other players.
I think we should make videos of the pranks and post them on socials.
If people want to vote then they have to sign up and play.
But it won’t be just for jocks, it’ll be for anyone that is good at making people laugh.
They can suck at the actual game but get in on the action with pranks. ”
“Witt, that is amazing. I love the idea. My brother can help you. He’s a social media king. I think he has close to a million followers.”
She pushes up on her toes and kisses me sweetly on the lips.
“Well, I haven’t made that part yet, but you inspire me.”
“Aww, you’re a softy, Witt O’Ryan,” she teases.
I hand her a controller. "Prepare to lose."
She raises an eyebrow.
"That's cute. I’ve been to like four hundred baseball games, a thousand practices and have been known to get into the batting cage from time to time out of sheer boredom.”
Ten minutes later she accidentally runs the catcher into the mascot, celebrating after tagging my runner out at home, and somehow discovered a glitch that launches a referee twenty feet into the air.
She laughs so hard she nearly drops the controller.
"I found a bug!"
"You created a bug."
"Details."
I make a note in my phone.
She notices. “Are you seriously documenting my mistakes?"
"I'm documenting valuable user feedback."
She flashes a big smile as wide as the Grand Canyon and my stomach does something loopy.
I like her finding my mistakes but even more, I like watching her play.