The rest of the lunch flowed perfectly. We discussed details, timelines, and vision while enjoying our meal. By the time I walked out of that restaurant, I had a signed contract and a deposit check that would cover my expenses for the next three months. More than that, I had the satisfaction of knowing I’d earned it with my skills, not my connections or my last name.
Lesley was waiting in the car when I stepped out, and there was something different in his gaze, as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time.
“How’d it go?” he asked as I settled into the passenger seat.
“Perfect. The budget’s not a problem.” I couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “That’s three months of income secured.”
“That’s some impressive shit. I’m proud of you.” He started the engine, glancing at me with genuine admiration. “You just walked in there and convinced a woman who probably has her pick of event planners to trust you with one of the most important days in her daughter’s life. You got that special something, baby.”
The pride I felt was warm and unfamiliar. For so long, my wins had been private victories, celebrated alone in my livingroom or shared with the few friends who understood what it meant for me to have stability. Having Lesley witness it, acknowledge it, and celebrate it with me felt like something I didn’t know I’d been missing. I definitely had a praise kink.
“Thank you for saying that,” I said quietly. “And I’m sorry for going off on you earlier about the work question. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”
“I earned that. I don’t always say the right things at the right times. But thank you for letting me see you in action.”
“You’re welcome, and we finished by three. That’s a good day.”
On the drive back to the penthouse, I found myself looking at him differently. This man had canceled his entire day to drive me around the city, sat in parking lots while I handled business, and watched me work with open admiration instead of boredom or impatience.
This was the same man who’d cornered me in a basement months ago, who’d given me an ultimatum that felt like a death sentence at the time. But somewhere along the way, he'd become the man I loved. Someone who saw my strength instead of trying to manage it, who respected my independence instead of feeling threatened by it.
“Lesley,” I said as we pulled into our building’s garage. “You’re welcome to spend the day with me anytime you want. But you should know—this business, this work, this independence I fought for is not going anywhere.”
He turned off the engine and looked at me before grabbing my hand. “I wouldn’t want it to,” he said, his voice rough with pride.
“Good, but I will start spending a little of your money. What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is… well, still mine.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “That don’t sound crazy as hell to you?”
I had to laugh, too. “That was the point, pooh.”
“Should we celebrate? Dinner?”
That caught me off guard. I blinked at him, slower than I meant to. The words caught in my throat before I let them out.
“Uhm… I wasn’t expecting you to be here. With me. Home.”
The second I said it, I saw his jaw twitch. That barely-there flinch he tried to mask with a half-smile. And it made my stomach flip because I hadn’t meant it like that. But also, I had.
“I didn’t mean…” I started, then sighed. “It’s just... I’ve gotten used to doing this alone. Last night was... new. Today was new. And you’re still here, that’s new.”
“I gotta do better,” he said, voice low.
That made my throat tight. Because all day I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to run off, get impatient, or blow me off. I was glad he was here, but I wasn’t used to sharing my space.
“I just wanna crawl in bed, watch TV, and order takeout,” I said finally, softening it with a small smile. “Nothing fancy.”
He chuckled, nodding as he got it. “To the crib it is.”
Back in the penthouse, I kicked off those heels the second we stepped through the door, my feet thanking me for the relief. It had been a long day, but a good day. The kind of day that made me believe maybe this thing between us really could work.
“I’m about to change and get comfortable,” I called over my shoulder, already heading toward the bedroom. “Thank you for today. For driving me, for... seeing me.”
He nodded, hands in his pockets, unsure what to do with himself now that our day was over. “It was my pleasure.”
In the room, I peeled off the tan dress and YSL belt, hanging them carefully in the walk-in closet, which still felt too big at times. I quickly showered and pulled on my favorite pajama set, soft cotton shorts, and a matching tank top in dusty pink. I wrapped my hair in a silk scarf. Then I did what I always didwhen I needed to decompress: I climbed into the king-sized bed, grabbed the remote, and pulled up my DVR full of reality TV shows and old sitcoms.
This was my routine, my peace. After days of being “on” for clients and vendors, I needed time to just exist without performing, without being perfect. I didn’t play around with my downtime.
