“Thank you,” I say to him.
He smiles, but it’s only a flicker of movement. Everything else is in his expression, in the tight nod he gives me by way of response.
“Anytime,” he says quietly.
There’s a beat of silence, broken only by the sound of Winston sniffing.
“All right, okay, that was a really beautiful moment, but you guys need to knock it off before I start crying,” he says, laughing even as he tugs off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “Besides, we still have a shit ton of work to do.”
“Work,” I say, searching the sky for the sun. “Of course.” It can’t be much later than eight in the morning, but I’m usually at my desk much earlier. “I’ll need to make a quick stop at the command center. How long do you think we’ll be gone today? I have to reschedule some calls. There are time-sensitive materials I’m supposed to deliver today, and if I—”
“Not that kind of work,” Kenji says, a strange smile on his face. “You don’t need to worry about that today. It’s all been taken care of.”
“Taken care of?” I frown. “How?”
“Juliette already notified everyone last night. Obviously we can’t check out of work completely, but we’ve divvied up today’s responsibilities. We’re all going to take shifts.” He hesitates. “Not you, two, obviously. Both your schedules have been cleared for the day.”
Somehow, this is a greater surprise than everything else.
If our schedules have been cleared, that means todaywasn’t some spur-of-the-moment decision. It means things didn’t just serendipitously align in time to make it happen.
This was orchestrated. Premeditated.
“I don’t think I understand,” I say slowly. “As much as I appreciate the time off, this shouldn’t take much more than an hour. We only need an officiant and a couple of witnesses. Ella doesn’t even have a dress. Nouria said there was no time to make food, or a cake, or even to spare people to help set up, so it won’t—”
Ella squeezes my hand, and I meet her eyes.
“I know we’d agreed to do something really small,” she says softly. “I know you weren’t expecting much. But I thought you might like this better.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “Likewhatbetter?”
As if on cue, Brendan pops his white-blond head around a corner. “Morning, everyone! All right to bring everyone through? Or do you lot need another minute?”
Winston lights up at the sight of him, assuring Brendan that we need just a few more minutes.
Brendan says, “Roger that,” and promptly disappears.
I turn to Ella, my mind whirring.
Save the birthday cake she surprised me with last month, I have very little in my life to offer me a frame of reference for this experience. My brain is at war with itself, understanding—while incapable of understanding—what now seems obvious. Ella has organized something elaborate.
In secret.
All of her earlier evasiveness, her half-truths and missing explanations—my fear that she’d been hiding something from me—
Suddenly everything makes sense.
“How long have you been planning this?” I ask, and Ella visibly tenses with excitement, emanating the kind of joy I’ve only ever felt in the presence of small children.
It nearly takes my breath away.
She wraps her arms around my waist, peering up at me. “Do you remember when we were on the plane ride home,” she says, “and the adrenaline wore off, and I started kind of losing my mind? And I kept looking at the bone sticking out my leg and screaming?”
Of all things, this was not what I was expecting her to say.
“Yes,” I say carefully. I have no interest in recalling the events of that plane ride. Or discussing them. “I remember.”
“And do you remember what I said to you?”
