“What about it?”
“We said we’d talk. Today. Tomorrow. Which is now today.”
“I’m aware of how time works.”
“Stop deflecting.”
She looks away and her shoulders drop slightly. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“What this is. What we’re doing.” I move closer, not crowding her but close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. “Because I don’t do casual. I don’t sneak around and pretend nothing’s happening. And I sure as hell don’t make out with people in medical rooms and then act like colleagues the next day.”
“So what do you want this to be? A public relationship?”
“I want to take you to dinner. An actual date. Not delivery to my apartment or sneaking around facilities or hotel rooms on road trips.” I watch her face carefully. “I want to see where this goes without hiding it.”
Panic flashes across her features. “Roman, that’s—we can’t just?—”
“Why not?”
“Because Winters is watching everything I do. Because I’m staff and you’re a player and there are optics to consider. Because if this goes wrong, I still have to work here and?—”
“What if it doesn’t go wrong?”
That stops her. She stares at me, and I can see her brain working through scenarios, looking for angles, trying to find the safe play.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she says quietly.
“Do what?”
“This. Whatever this is. I don’t know if I should date someone I work with. Someone I see every day. Someone who—” She stops, shakes her head. “It’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Yes it does. Everything about this is complicated. Your career, my career, Winters actively looking for reasons to fire me, your shoulder that I just cleared, the team?—”
“The team alreadyknows.”
“What?”
“They’ve known for weeks. Probably longer. They’re not subtle about the chirping.” I step closer. “And they don’t care, Marnie. If anything, they’re invested. Rodriguez sent me a gif yesterday of a guy doing a victory dance.”
“Rodriguez knows?”
“Everyone knows. Except apparently Winters, and honestly I don’t give a shit what he thinks.”
She laughs, short and sharp. “You don’t give a shit because he can’t fire you. I’m expendable. You’re the franchise.”
“You’re not expendable?—”
“Roman, I’ve been here three months. You’ve been here seven years. If it comes down to him or me, I lose. We both know that.”
The fear in her voice makes me pause. She’s not wrong about the power dynamics, but the idea of Winters using our relationship to hurt her makes me want to make him suffer, slowly.
“Then we’re careful,” I say. “But I’m not pretending this isn’t happening. I’m not going back to acting like I don’t want you.”
“I’m not asking you to?—”
The door opens.
