She doesn’t move or argue, but I can tell she's not leaving. What the fuck. Reaching over to the door panel, the click-click answers for me.
She opens the door like she always knew I would give in and slides into the seat, bringing the faint smell of perfume and night air with her. She shuts the door and turns to face me, pulling one leg up and into her lap.
This girl has some balls.
“You shouldn’t sit out here like this,” she says. “People notice.”
“I don’t care what people notice.”
“I know,” she replies. “That’s kind of the problem.”
Silence stretches not uncomfortably, but it's obvious.
“You know I know you're the one who set up the 'scholarship,' right? I wasn't born yesterday,” she says.
I keep my eyes on the windshield. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She smiles a little, unamused. “You don’t have to deny it. I’m not here to expose you. I actually want to give you props.”
“I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She didn’t apply,” Delphine says calmly. “She asked questions months ago, and that’s it. Then, out of nowhere, they called her with a full ride, including housing, with no strings. Oh, and it just happens to coincide with your breakup.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and say nothing. I just want her to say her sanctimonious piece and get out of my car.
“She’s safe,” she adds. “And she’s happy in that quiet way that fulfills her in ways she never could have done on her own.”
My jaw locks.
“You did the right thing,” Delphine says. “You didn’t try to keep her. You didn’t make it about you.”
I finally look at her. “You done?”
She meets my gaze without blinking. “Almost.”
She shifts in her seat, turning toward me fully now. “I know what people assume about you. About your business, about your reach. But I also know this. A man who loves someone lets her go when staying would put her in danger.”
The word lands. Love.
I don’t react or correct her. But I sure as hell don’t give her anything she can use.
“That’s real,” she finishes. “Whether you ever claim it or not.”
I reach for the ignition and cut the engine. The sudden quiet presses in around us.
“She didn’t need saving,” I say.
“No,” Delphine agrees. “She needed space to come into her own.”
She opens the door, then pauses. “Thank you,” she says. Not for the money. Not even for the program. For releasing her. You've done more for her than anyone in her life ever has, whether you know it or not. As her friend, I thank you."
She steps out and shuts the door softly behind her. The window is still down, and before she walks off, she leans in.
"And I meant what I said. She deserves to think she earned it on her own. It's better that way."
She taps the window and walks away.
I start the engine and pull away. Indigo Blue disappears in the rearview mirror.
