“Theresa.” His voice warmed immediately. “I knew you would impress them.”
“You should have seen their faces when I showed them the technical validation from Duncan’s team. They couldn’t believe how quickly this came together.”
“That’s all you. You made it happen.”
The praise sent a small thrill through me. “Let’s celebrate. How about dinner Saturday?”
There was a pause, and I could almost see him smiling on the other end. “Saturday night works for me,” he said. “I’ve heard of a place in San Francisco—quiet, excellent food, and somewhere we can actually relax without worrying about running into colleagues or neighbors.”
San Francisco. An hour’s drive. Far enough that we could be just Patrick and Theresa, not the widowed CEO and the Scottish researcher with ten kids between us.
“Sounds perfect,” I said immediately. “I’ll arrange for Michael and Shelly to watch the kids.”
“I’ll pick you up at six. We should allow time for traffic.”
“I’ll be ready.”
After we hung up, I sat at my desk, a smile playing at my lips. I’d proven I could lead CarideoTech. I’d landed a significant partnership that would secure the company’s future. And I’d allowed myself to feel something for Patrick—something that went beyond gratitude or comfort or shared grief.
Everything was finally coming together.
Chapter
Fifteen
PATRICK
The valetat Acquerello gave my Land Rover a look that suggested I’d arrived at Buckingham Palace on a bicycle. Not the usual Ferrari or Porsche the restaurant was accustomed to, I imagined. But with a herd like mine, a sports car was out of the question.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, craning her neck to take in the vaulted ceiling as we entered. Original stained glass cast jeweled patterns across white tablecloths, and the soft murmur of conversation mixed with the clink of crystal.
The host led us to a corner table—intimate without feeling claustrophobic. I pulled out Theresa’s chair, and as she settled in, I noticed it immediately.
Her wedding ring had moved from her left hand to her right.
A slight gesture, really. A shift of metal from one finger to another. But I understood the significance. I wore my ring for six months after Shannon died, unable to let go of that last physicalconnection. When I finally removed it, my finger felt naked for weeks, like I’d lost a piece of myself all over again.
She’d moved it, not removed it. Still honoring Marco but making room for something new.
“You’re staring,” she said softly, pink touching her cheeks.
“Sorry. You look lovely tonight.”
She did. The deep blue dress brought out the warmth in her brown eyes, and she’d done something different with her hair—swept up in a way that exposed the elegant line of her neck. But it was more than that. There was a lightness to her that hadn’t been there before, like she’d set down a burden she’d been carrying for months.
“Board approval suits you,” I said as the sommelier approached with the wine list.
“Does it show that obviously?” She laughed, and the sound went straight through me. “I feel like I can finally breathe again.”
I ordered a bottle of Barolo—a fine Italian wine for a fine Italian restaurant seemed appropriate—and watched her face as she described the board meeting. Her eyes lit up as she talked, her hands moving with a kind of bright, unfiltered excitement. What she said hardly mattered. What caught me was the spark in her—the confidence, the life. It was impossible to look away.
“Arthur actually apologized,” she said, shaking her head. “After months of trying to push me out, he suddenly wants to help with the regulatory filings.”
“Do you trust him?”
She considered this, taking a sip of wine. “I don’t know. Maybe he genuinely realizes I’m not going anywhere and wants to be on the winning side. Or maybe he’s playing a longer game.”
“Either way, you’ve won this round.”
