It was as if he were speaking a language she didn’t understand. “That doesn’t feel true.”
“It is, though.” He took another step, stopping so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His eyes searched hers, and she found herself unable to look away.
“You matter, Delaney,” he said softly. “Your needs, your wants, your dreams—they all matter.”
The words sank into her, touching places long neglected. A lump formed in her throat. She wanted desperately to believe him.
“Even after what I said to you tonight,” he continued, “you were still thinking about Charlotte first. About keeping her safe.”
“I love her.” Her volume was barely above a whisper.
“I know.” He reached out, his fingertips gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. The touch sent electricity racing across her skin. “You are…extraordinary.”
Delaney’s heart fluttered. She should step back, put distance between them, but her feet refused to move.
But he managed it, taking a step away. “That’s why this is so hard. It’s the last thing I want to do, you know… Send you away.”
Delaney stared at him as their tender moment shattered like fine crystal. “After everything that just happened, you’re still firing me.” She didn’t phrase it as a question, just needed him to clarify.
“Becauseof everything that happened, and you’re not fired.” Noah’s eyes held genuine regret, which somehow made it worse. “Lena is in custody, but the merger is still hanging by a thread. What happened tonight will make the papers. I’m just… There’s too much gossip, too much scandal. I need you to leave, but just until I can get the merger finalized.”
She let his words roll around in her mind. He was worried about what people would say. Not worried about how she would feel or how Charlotte would feel.
Her heart squeezed for Charlotte. But if what Noah said was true, then shedidhave the right to want things for herself. Shedidhave the right to think of herself sometimes. Her needsdidmatter. And he was disregarding them for the sake of his own.
Which he had every right to do.
The consequences of Noah’s decisions weren’t her problem.
Is that true, Lord? Shouldn’t I just do what he’s asking?
She loved this job. But she didn’t love being treated as if she weren’t valuable or needed. As if, by her very existence, she wasn’t good enough.
Noah squinted, maybe trying to read her thoughts. After a moment, he said. “It’s just for a few weeks. And then you can come back.”
“No.”
Noah blinked. “No?”
“I’m not running away and then coming back when the coast is clear, as if I’ve done something wrong.” She turned to dump the rest of her water in the sink. It was easier to do this when she wasn’t looking at him. Her chest ached, not just from her injury but from something much deeper and more painful. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. Home to Maine.” She loaded her glass in the dishwasher. “To stay.”
“But I want…” His words trailed, then started again. “Charlotte needs you.”
She added soap. “If you were that worried about Charlotte, then you wouldn’t be firing me.”
“I’m not… If you would just listen to reason.”
“Don’t talk to me about reason.” She slammed the dishwasher closed and spun to face him. “I’m not your crazy stalker. I’m not being unreasonable. I just proved I woulddiefor your niece, and it’s not enough for you.”
“I never said?—”
“I know what youneversaid.” The unfairness of it all bubbled up inside her, transforming into anger. “You’re firing me because you’re attracted to me. That’s not my fault.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “I have to secure this merger. My family’s home and my father’s business are both at risk, and I can’t lose them. They’re my family’s legacy. There are members of the Tidewater board looking for any excuse to vote against me, and Lowell is feeding them ammunition every chance he gets.”
“There’s always going to be an excuse to choose business over family. That little girl upstairs?” Delaney pointed toward the ceiling. “She’san Aylett.She’syour family’s legacy.” Delaney straightened, emboldened by the truth she felt in her bones. “Not this house. Not your business. Those are just your pride or some misguided sense of loyalty to dead people.”
“You’re reducing my parents to ‘dead people’?” His volume rose. “You have no idea?—”
