Saturday afternoon arrived gray and threatening, the kind of sky that promised rain and meant it. I dressed in layers and comfortable clothes, packed my recorder and notebook, and waited by my window until I saw Archie’s car pull up outside my building at exactly four thirty.
He got out immediately when he saw me come through the door, walking around to open the passenger side. He looked unfairly good in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that made his gray eyes stand out even more, his hair slightly messy in that deliberately careless way.
“Good evening,” he said, taking my bag and setting it in the back seat. “I brought coffee. Two cups because I figured you’d need caffeine for interviewing people.”
“You figured correctly.”
“Smart choice.” He closed my door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in with easy confidence. The car smelledlike expensive leather and the coffee he’d brought, warm and inviting. “Ready for an adventure?”
“Is that what we’re calling this?”
“Absolutely. Adventures sound better than work trips.” He handed me one of the coffee cups and pulled into traffic. “Besides, spending the evening with you counts as an adventure in my book.”
I took a sip of coffee and tried to ignore how pleased his words made me feel. “You’re very charming for late afternoon.”
“I’m charming at all hours. It’s a gift.” But he smiled when he said it, self-aware and teasing.
The city traffic was heavier now, everyone heading somewhere for Saturday evening. We made decent time getting out of Manhattan and onto the highway heading north as the afternoon sun started its descent behind gray clouds.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Archie said once we’d settled into the drive.
I thought about it, watching the landscape gradually change. “I’m terrified I’m going to fail. Not just fail the bar exam or fail at being a lawyer, but fail at being the person my father thought I could be. That all of this will be for nothing and I’ll look back and realize I wasted years chasing something I was never good enough for.”
His hand moved to the console between us, palm up in quiet invitation. I looked at it for a moment before slipping my fingers through his. His hand was warm, his grip gentle but certain.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said, his voice serious.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you. I know how hard you work, how much you care, how determined you are.” He glanced at me, his expression intense. “You’re not going to fail, Gianna. And even if you stumbled, you’d get back up. That’s who you are.”
The conviction in his voice made my throat feel tight. “You sound very sure about someone you’ve only known a few weeks.”
“Some people you just know—from the first conversation.” He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, brief but deliberate. “Your turn. Ask me something.”
My pulse was doing something complicated from that casual kiss. “Okay. If you could go back and change one decision in your life, what would it be?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on my hand. “Some years back, I made a business decision that hurt people in ways I didn’t understand at the time.” He glanced at me. “If I could go back, I’d ask more questions. I’d look beyond the paperwork and see the actual human cost.”
His voice carried weight, regret that felt genuine. “I didn’t see it then. I was young and trying to prove myself.”
I studied his profile, the tension in his jaw. “Is that why you’re trying to reform things now? At your company?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to make sure we don’t keep making the same mistakes.” He squeezed my hand. “Maybe I’m just trying to ease my own guilt. Either way, I’m here now. Trying to be better than I was.”
The vulnerability in his admission made my chest ache. “We all have things we’d change if we could. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”
“Even when those decisions hurt people?”
“Even then. As long as you’re trying to do better now.” I squeezed his hand back. “Which you are.”
He looked at me for a moment, something complicated passing across his face. Then he returned his attention to the road, but his hand stayed wrapped around mine.
The conversation shifted naturally. He asked about my mother and I told him about her book club’s latest dramaticreading session. I asked about his childhood and he told me stories about growing up with Jake that made me laugh.
“Your parents must have been saints,” I said.
“My mother was. My father was terrifying when he wanted to be.” Archie grinned. “Jake learned early that my dad’s disappointed look was worse than any punishment.”
