It was an ordinary Friday, and yet nothing felt normal as Delia went about her daily tasks at the office. Today was the day she intended to issue the long-overdue ultimatum to Wesley, and it loomed like the sword of Damocles over her head. Either Wesley would accept her into his heart, or she would leave him.
And leaving him meant leaving her job. With each passing hour, she wondered if this would be the last time she would fill in her calendar, tracking the firm’s weekly progress. She commissioned the calendar using exact specifications to display color-coded columns, tabs, trial schedules, and outcomes. For six years she had taken pride in the tangible record of their accomplishments. This week she recorded their victory in a case defending conscientious objectors from being drafted into the war. Her satisfaction was marred when she noted a lapsed donation to the Commission for the Relief of Belgium. Their stance on the war had caused a downturn in business, and so Wesley had to curtail his donations to the struggling charity.
Delia had provided free secretarial services to the CRB whenever Bert Hoover, the charity’s founder, came to New York on business. “Bertie,” as he preferred to be known, was an extraordinary man.He climbed out of an impoverished childhood to became one of the richest men in America through his work as a mining engineer and investor. Once he learned what was happening in Belgium, he walked away from his job mining gold to found the CRB. Delia and Wesley were enthusiastic supporters of the humanitarian mission, and Wesley gave Delia leave to work fifteen hours a week to handle CRB affairs.
A wistful smile curved her lips as she closed her calendar, running her hands along the soft leather cover. She loved this job but wouldn’t remain if Wesley was determined to hold her at arm’s length for the rest of her life.
Reginald had left early this evening, leaving her and Wesley the only people in the office. Their regular Friday meeting to discuss unfinished business loomed. At the top of the list was a meeting with the leaders of the CRB to discuss their worsening financial situation, and Wesley’s legal advice was desperately needed. Delia gathered her paperwork for the meeting and headed to Wesley’s office, her heart knocking like an out-of-control jackhammer.
This was it, the moment that was six years in the making, and there would be no turning back.
Wesley sat behind his desk, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. He was overdue for a haircut. Normally he visited the barber every third Tuesday of the month, but his work with the conscientious objectors had caused him to miss it.
She tapped on the open door. “Ready for me?”
He pushed the paperwork aside. “Of course. Have a seat.”
She left the office door open because he always insisted on proper decorum, even though the rest of the office was empty. Delia set her clipboard on the edge of his desk, then wandered toward the standing globe beside the corner window because she was too nervous to sit. This was the exact spot of their first kiss.
She sent the globe spinning with a single nudge of her index finger. “The meeting with the board of directors for the CRB hasbeen scheduled at the end of the month. Germany wants to cut off their access to the international shipping lanes, so I’ve pulled the global treaties you’ll need to bolster their cause. We will be meeting at Bert Hoover’s house with the rest of the board.”
The silence lengthened, interrupted only by the squeak of the globe as she slowly twirled it. She rested her finger along the equator, watching the continents spin by.
“Delia, would you step away from the globe?”
His voice sounded tight. Uncomfortable. She could read his mind, and he remembered their kiss.
“Why?” she asked. “I like this globe. Immensely.”
“I like the sight of you beside it. Too much.”
It was a perfect opening. She left the globe to close the office door.
Wesley quirked a brow but didn’t say anything, even when she pulled the roller blind down, then turned to confront him. She tilted her head and locked eyes with him.
He remained seated behind the desk, almost as if it were a shield. His knuckles were white as he held the arms of his chair, and he swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed above his starched collar. “Delia, please—”
“Please what? Please stop admiring you? Stop wishing for more?”
He sighed and glanced away. “I’m nineteen years older than you. In two years I’m going to befifty.”
“Don’t you think I can count? Yes, I’m twenty-nine and you are forty-eight. According to actuarial tables, a man in your situation can expect to live into his seventies. I like those odds. Twenty years to give into temptation and have a partner with whom to share a fulfilling life.”
“Twenty years for you to regret shackling yourself to an old man.”
“Oh, stop,” she chided. “There will be no shackles in our relationship. We shall forever be side by side out of choice.”
The side of his mouth quirked. “No shackles then. Perhaps there will be wheelchairs, arthritis creams, and hearing trumpets.”
“Still not afraid, Wesley.” She said it in jest, but he had sobered.
“Delia, by your own admission, you are prone to youthful infatuation.”
She should never have told him about Finn. “Only once,” she pointed out. And it wasn’t an infatuation; it was real love. She’d loved Finn with the youthful fires of spring, but he had betrayed her. With the passing of years, she came to accept her own role in what had happened. If she hadn’t been so timid, perhaps he wouldn’t have betrayed her.
Wesley’s steadfast dependability was a much better match for her cautious nature. She leaned against the door as his laughter faded. She didn’t want to leave. Even if they never had anything more than a deep and abiding friendship, she didn’t want to leave. But it was time to screw up her courage and ask for more.
“I won’t go on like this any longer,” she said, her voice gentle.
