Quentin
Two weeks ago
“I’m heading out for the evening,” my assistant, Daniel, said around six o’clock. “Need anything before I go?”
I looked up from the phone sitting on my glass-top desk. “Did marketing send over their updated purchase orders?”
He nodded, his beard touching his tie as his chin dipped. “Yes. And I already got your year-end bonus suggestions to the executives for approval.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Any notes you want me to deliver?”
I shook my head.
A slight frown pinched his forehead, but he quickly smoothed his features and said, “Have a good evening.”
“You too.” I watched until he rounded the corner and stared down at my phone again.
Why was it so much easier to dictate a sticky note than to type out a message?
Outside my office window, the city lights were flickering to life like a carpet of stars while the sky stretched above in an orange haze.
But all I could look at was my phone screen, which was open to a blank text with her number in the receiver’s spot.
There were a million things I wanted to tell her.
You’re beautiful seemed to be the obvious option. Because she was gorgeous—curvy with dark-brown almond-shaped eyes and onyx hair so smooth that it always seemed to be spilling from the quirky claw clips she wore and framing her heart-shaped face.
But her looks seemed like the wrong place to begin, because she was endearing for so much more than her appearance. I looked out the wall of windows lining my office, and the Dallas skyline faded from view as I thought of her.
In a world where everyone filled silence with noise, she was perceptive, adding humor when someone seemed to be down.
Keeping to herself when someone was in the flow of productive work.
Commiserating with my assistant toward the end of a long workday.
I knew Daniel enjoyed his work, but he never smiled like that with me.
It was her.
I’d taken to going to the Caf on the ground floor of The Tower every day for an afternoon coffee run just to glimpse her while she worked on the lobby.
Sometimes I’d see her talking with her friend Jada, who was also Bryce’s fiancee, laughing and conversing without reservation, unlike me who always kept my guard up.
I’d learned the hard way a strong defense was necessary. I kept my cards closer to my chest, but Rei held nothing back.
Her courage, her presence, her boldness was intoxicating.
It was terrifying.
Nothing I thought to text seemed like enough when I knew she would be the one receiving my message.
Hi? She deserved a poem.
You’re beautiful? Any random person on the street could see that.
You’re nice? What was I? A dollar-store Valentine’s day card?
Will you marry me? Starting off a little too strong, even if it was my honest request thanks to Simon’s demands.
Letting out a grunt of frustration, I got up to pace my office.
I could handle a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound man determined to smash me into the football field turf, but little letters on a touch-screen keyboard tripped me up? “Pathetic,” I muttered.
Even if the perfect words would eventually form in my mind, I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. My co-founders and I had agreed that I would be the next to get married. But before I fired off some text that ruined my chances, I needed to call in expert advice.
Picking up my office phone, I dialed Bryce’s line. He was the inventor of the MyHome app, our chief technical officer, and one of the few people I trusted implicitly. Holding the receiver to my ear, the piece of plastic felt comically tiny in my hand.
A click sounded, followed by Bryce saying, “I was on my way out. What’s up?”
“Won’t be long. Just need some advice.”
“About tech wages? I know Siebert’s pay is high, but he got an offer from a competitor, and we can’t lose him.”
“Not that,” I said. Tech salaries had long since lost their sticker shock for me. “Something more... personal.” The word felt like gritty sand on my tongue. I stood up, thinking I should have used my cell phone so I wasn’t stuck at the end of a three-foot curly cord.
“What is it?”
My response tugged at my mind, but no perfect formulation came together.
Numbers were so much easier to communicate with.
A one could only be one. Revenue was either up or down.
Budget was over or under. Yet each word held so many meanings depending on how you said it and which words you paired it with.
“I-it’s the w-wedding clause,” I finally managed, glad no one was around to hear me stutter.
Bryce fell silent for a moment, patiently waiting for me.
I calmed my nerves and took a deep breath, my voice coming out stronger this time. “I want to t-t-talk to her, but I don’t know how. I can’t see it going well.”
“When I asked Jada to marry me, she told me to see a doctor and stormed out of the office.” He chuckled like it was a fond memory.
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” My gaze shifted back to the sticky note with Rei’s barely readable handwriting.
Right now, a future with her was a possibility, but once I put myself out there, her answer would be final.
And it could be no. “I don’t want to lose her before I even have a real chance because Simon’s an obstinate ass. ”
Again Bryce was quiet, thinking through his answer. “It’s not going to be easy” was all he said. And then he added, more softly, “You don’t have to do this, get married.”
The words were a gift. A sacrificial one at that. He’d already gotten engaged, sealed his fate in the event of a divorce. If I didn’t marry, his sacrifice would have been for nothing. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
“Do you have someone in mind?” Bryce asked.
I glanced at the sticky note again and then back out the window. Time was running out for me to make a choice.
“I do,” I said. “Can you just... hold on.”
“Sure.”
I picked up my cell phone, the blank screen taunting me. Then I typed out my message.
Quentin: I got your number from the sticky note wall.
I hit send before I could second guess. After the text went through, I said to Bryce, “What do I do if she rejects me?”
“It might not be you she’s rejecting. Just the situation,” he reminded me.
His words lifted an invisible weight from my shoulders. “If she rejects the situation,” I amended. “What then?”
Bryce said, “Let’s focus on Plan A before we deal with B.”
I nodded, looking at my screen.
Three bubbles had popped up.
My chest constricted, making it hard to breathe.
Rei: He lives.
My lips curved as I read her message. “Plan A it is.”