“That’s none of your business.” I pause. “But yes.”
She clears her throat. “Should we wait until things are resolved before proceeding?”
“No. Do it now.” I meet her eyes. “Even if she never speaks to me again, she deserves this.”
Larissa nods slowly. Something like respect crosses her face. “I’ll have a draft by later today.”
After she leaves, I do something I’ve never done. I write a letter. By hand. On actual paper.
It takes me three hours and six drafts. My handwriting is shit. I haven’t written anything longer than a signature in years.
But some things shouldn’t be typed. Some things need to cost you something.
Bree,
I was wrong. About Kendrick. About lying to you. About making decisions that were yours to make.
I told myself I was protecting you. I was protecting myself. From feeling powerless. From watching someone I care about carry pain I couldn’t fix. I made it about me when it should have been about you.
I promised you a promotion. I’m giving it to you.
I want you to be Executive Director of the Rossi Foundation.
This position isn’t a gesture. It’s not an apology gift. It’s what you earned. What you deserved weeks ago.
I was a coward about offering it properly.
Waiting for the perfect moment instead of trusting you to handle whatever moment we were in.
I understand if you can’t forgive me. I broke your trust. That’s not something you get back just by apologizing.
But I want you to know that I see what I did.
I see the pattern.
And I’m trying to be better.
Whatever you decide, the position is yours if you want it.
Nico
I give the envelope to Cressida.
“Ms. Dawson’s apartment in Astoria,” I tell her. “I’ll text you the address. Delivery it in person. If she’s not there, bring it back.”
“But Elspeth—”
“Can wait.” Technically she works for Elspeth, but it’s my company.
Cressida looks at the envelope, then at me. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know.”
She studies me. “Areyouokay?”
“No,” I reply flatly.
She nods and leaves.
