For a moment I simply looked at him.
“You can.”
“I can’t,” he repeated, more quietly this time, though the conviction remained unchanged. “That’s a really kind offer, but there’s no way I can live here.”
“There is no expectation attached to it,” I told him. “It would make your work significantly easier.”
“I know,” he said. “I just… couldn’t. I mean, does Ben live here?”
“No—” I started, getting cut off by him.
“Then there’s no reason I can’t commute. Plus, you’ve already told me that you don’t like people being in your house.”
I felt urged to tell him that statement did not apply to him.
Instead, I sighed, “Right. Then I at least must insist that I handle your transportation.”
He hesitated this time—not rejecting the idea immediately, but ultimately shaking his head.
“I really appreciate that, but I’d rather handle getting here myself.”
“That will require a significant commute.”
“I don’t mind.”
“It will be inefficient.”
“I don’t mind inefficient,” he repeated with a chuckle, smiling in a way that suggested he understood exactly what I meant by the word and was choosing not to accept it anyway. “But there’s such a thing as work-life balance, isn’t there?”
No.
Both should be occurring here, where I can observe.
And yet, I gritted out, “Very well. We’ll proceed according to your preferences.”
Relief softened his posture.
“I can still come early some days if something’s going on with the systems,” he added quickly. “Or stay late if needed. I just don’t think I should live here.”
“You won’t be required to,” I assured him, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
That seemed to settle the matter.
For now.
Cove looked back toward the ocean, his attention drifting outward through the glass the way it always drifted toward water when he needed space to think.
“Do you think I should wait for my supervisors to tell me I won’t be staying, or should I tell them that I’ll be leaving? And do I mention that I’ll be working for you? I’m not sure…”
The question greatly pleased me.
He wantedmyadvice.
Mine.
“I think,” I said, taking a breath, “that waiting would place you in a weaker position than necessary.”
He turned back from the window, giving me his full attention again as a glare from the water lit up his alabaster skin like a spotlight.
