I don’t know if there’s any version of this that doesn’t cost me something.
I leave without answering. But his question follows me all the way home.
He asked what would make it possible. And the terrifying thing is that this situation is not as compromising and inexcusable as I thought.
It's starting to sound logical.
Chapter seven
Seamus
Do you ever feel like you’re waiting for someone, but you don’t know what they look like yet? Like you’d recognize them anyway. I feel like I’ll just look at them and think, "Oh. There you are." (Not in a weird way.) I'll just know. I'm usually right about these things. —Anna (Age 14)
Istand at the window of my office, watching the city move below with its usual indifferent rhythm.
My reflection stares back at me from the glass. I look controlled and composed. My face gives nothing away.
But inside, I'm thinking about things that have nothing to do with business.
Rosanna Lopez is not what I expected. I knew she'd be passionate. I saw that at the community meeting. I knew she'd be articulate, principled, willing to fight.
What I didn't expect was the vulnerability underneath the anger. The fear that I might use her.
I also didn't expect the jolt when our hands brushed. It was brief and accidental, but sharp.
I tell myself it was meaningless.
Simply a physical reaction that happens when two people occupy the same space. It doesn't mean anything.
But I remember the way she looked at me when I asked what would make this possible. Like she wanted to say no but couldn't quite force the word out. Like maybe there was a version of this arrangement that wouldn't feel like surrender.
My phone buzzes. A text from Graham:
Meeting go well?
I look at the message for a long moment, then set the phone face-down on the table without responding.
I sit in one of the armchairs and try to see this situation from her perspective. A woman fighting to preserve something meaningful gets matched with the CEO whose company threatens to demolish it. A woman who's been made to feel small by men with power gets offered a contract by a man with significantly more. A woman who doesn't trust easily meets someone with a history of carelessness in relationships.
Of course she said no. Of course she looks at me and sees a risk instead of a solution.
The worst part is, she's not entirely wrong. I do have a reputation. Reformed or not, the headlines didn't lie.
I spent my twenties being charming and reckless and leaving broken hearts and damaged reputations in my wake.
It wasn't because I was cruel, but because I didn't think. I didn't consider the consequences.
I treated relationships like they were as disposable, and it took losing nearly everything to understand what that cost was.
Six years of discipline. Six years of careful control, of keeping people at a distance, of building walls high enough that carelessness couldn't touch anyone.
And now I'm planning to let someone inside those walls. To risk proximity, to risk connection, to risk becoming the person I worked so hard to stop being.
But Rosanna's fear isn't about my past behavior. It's about power. About her not being diminished or neglected. And that I can address.
I pull out my phone and open my contacts. ERS's lawyer answers on the second ring. "This is Noah."
"Noah, this is Seamus O'malley.
