Hands go up around the table. Not unanimous—Richard and two others abstain, their reluctance clear—but it's enough. More than enough.
"The motion passes," Thomas says. "With the stipulation that Dylan and Atty. Cole continues to maintain professional boundaries at work and document her independent contributions. Are we clear?"
I nod. "Crystal clear."
It's not a perfect victory. I would have preferred unanimous support, preferred to see Richard and his allies actually vote yes instead of abstaining. But we've won the right to be together without apology, without one of us having to leave or transfer or make ourselves smaller to appease office politics.
When the meeting ends, people file out with varying expressions. Some offer congratulations or supportive nods.Others leave quickly, avoiding eye contact. Richard mutters something to his allies that I can't quite hear, but I don't care.
Thomas grips my shoulder, and I turn to face him. "Proud of you, son," he says quietly. "That woman is worth fighting for."
"She is," I agree, my voice rough with emotion. "And I plan to keep fighting."
"I know you will." He squeezes my shoulder once more. "Bring her to Sunday dinner. Your mother's been planning the menu for days."
I laugh despite everything. "I will."
Father leaves, and I stand alone in the conference room for a moment, letting it all sink in. A few months ago, I thought I'd never let anyone past my walls again. Though the risk was too great, the potential for loss was too devastating. Then Avery walked into my office with her sharp mind and sharper tongue, challenged me within five minutes, and made me realize that some risks are worth taking.
I return to my office and immediately text her:Board meeting is done. We're good. Come over whenever you're ready. I can't wait to tell you about everything.
Her response comes quickly:Give me two hours. Need to debrief with Jessica and change clothes. See you at 7?
Perfect. Love you.
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over those last two words.
My heart hammers. Once again, it felt so casual, so easy, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Something warm blooms in my chest, spreading through my ribs until I can't help the smile that takes over my face.
Now, I'm at home, cooking pasta from scratch, the way my mother taught me. The rhythmic motion of kneading dough helps settle my nerves, gives my hands something to do while my mind processes the day.
I remember Avery agreeing to sit across from Oliver, finding closure, choosing herself.
Choosing us.
The sauce simmers on the stove, filling my penthouse with the smell of garlic and basil. I set the table carefully—good plates, wine glasses, the candles my mother gave me that I've never used because I've never had anyone worth using them for. The city spreads below my windows, lights beginning to twinkle as evening falls. Everything feels charged with possibility.
When the doorbell rings at 7:03, my heart kicks into a faster rhythm. I open the door, and there she is.
Avery looks different. Lighter, unburdened, like she's set down a weight she's been carrying for too long. She's changed into jeans and a soft sweater, her hair down around her shoulders, and when she smiles at me, it reaches her eyes in a way I haven't seen before.
"Hey," she says softly.
I pull her into my arms without a word. She comes willingly, fitting against me like she belongs there. We stand in my doorway for a long moment, just holding each other, and I remember how close I came to losing this. A few days ago, she asked for space, and I thought maybe she'd never come back. How I spent those days functioning on autopilot, going through the motions while feeling hollow inside.
Now she's here, solid and real in my arms, and I've never been more grateful for patience.
She smiles softly and says, "Tell me about the meeting."
So I tell her about the documentation I presented, about the way Richard tried to make it about optics instead of merit. I tell her about my father stepping in, about Harrison's support.
"It wasn't unanimous," I admit. "Richard and two others abstained. There will still be gossip, there will still be people whoquestion your qualifications. But we have official board support now. That's huge."
Avery's eyes shine with something that might be tears. "Your father really said that? That I match your ambition and integrity?"
"He did. And he meant it." I squeeze her hand gently. "He also told me to bring you to Sunday dinner again. Mom's been planning the menu for days, apparently."
She laughs, and the sound fills my chest with warmth. "I love your family."
