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“We’ll just go day by day,” he says in a gentle voice. “We have a lot to figure out. You have a lot to figure out too with work and life and balance and us just kissing and making out all the time-”
“Kissing is absolutely the best way to figure things out,” I argue, playfully.
Everett smiles with a telling blush. “Look, we can see each other as much as we want to. This is where it pays to have fallen in love with a wealthy city girl with her own private jet.”
“The carbon offsets I’ll have to buy.” I roll my eyes and squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.
Our food comes and we talk as we eat, about inane things that are less charged, like the agency he works for and next steps for me with leaning more into my mom’s legacy, finally committing time to her opera foundation.
As we’re scraping up the last bites of tiramisu and Everett’s paid the bill, we look at each other and smile.
“We’re doing this,” I say, with an excited smile.
“I can’t believe there’s a ‘we’, an ‘us’,” Everett says, taking my chin in his hand and kissing me.
* * *
Later that night, we finally finish Mission Impossible III, which is my favorite so far. We skipped II because Everett said I would ruin it by laughing too much. We’re snuggled up on the leather sectional in the den as the credits roll. Everett wraps his arm around my neck, his biceps cradling my face, pulling me towards him in the crook of his right elbow. He presses his forehead to mine.
“Leaving you, actually walking away and getting on the plane, is going to be nearly impossible.”
I lean back and run my hand over his cheek in reassurance. He looks positively tormented and I want to soothe that away.
“When I asked to be reassigned,” he says. “I wanted nothing more than to run away from what was daily heartbreak. But I want you to know that I’m not running away from you now. I hope you know that.”
“I do. And it’ll be okay,” I whisper, giving him a kiss of reassurance. “I have my own work to do too. I finally realized that no one is going to give me permission to make this job more sustainable for me. It’s up to me to make it a job I’ll love instead of just enduring something I inherited.”
“And you’ll call me at the end of each day and tell me all about it.”
“I will.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tight, my cheek pressing against his head and my hands messing up the back of his hair.
“I love you,” he whispers to me. “Hearing you say all that makes me excited for the future.”
“I love you, Ev,” I whisper back, gently pushing his hair off his forehead. “We have a great future ahead of us.”
* * *
I only have a few more days before my husband leaves for another country, and I’ve holed up in my office because I’m a mess, equal parts sad and self-pitying. Everett and I have been a bit short with each other, stress and insecurities getting the best of us. Even though we’ve known each other for so long, dating throws us into new roles and we’re both humans with emotions and selfishness. It’s not all rainbows and butterflies.
Tara, my therapist, has proven to be invaluable, both in my new relationship with Everett and in the areas that I can share with her. It sucks that I have to carry the weight of my dad’s betrayal between Everett and I, but I’m grateful for the people in my life that are helping me through the good and the bad. I’m learning to delegate more, let go of my iron grip on the company and relax a bit. It’s good, but hard.
I’m in the middle of reviewing a pitch presentation at my desk when Ainsley and Everett rush in with unreadable expressions and close the door behind them.
“What is it?” I ask, wary and nervous.
Everett swipes the remote off my desk and turns on the flat screen TV on the opposite wall. The major news networks immediately come up, but Everett flips past them to the BBC. The headline is bold and runs the entire length of the screen.
“Major Arrests in Massive Undercover Operation Against The Vidovic Group.”
“No,” I whisper in disbelief, standing and bracing myself against my desk.
The anchorwoman goes on to list the atrocities committed by the criminal group and the names of some of the ranking members that were arrested across Europe, including Vanya Vidovic.
“You did that,” Ainsley says in awe, then she gets more animated. “We did that! It worked! Should I get champagne?”
It’s everything I had hoped for. Vanya Vidovic, the man responsible for the death of Mom and Everett’s parents and atrocities against so many others, being cuffed and shoved into a police van. He’ll have to answer to justice now. It’ll go to trial, the anchorwoman says. I just hope it’s enough to truly stop the Vidovic Group.
“I think I’ll just get back to work,” I say.
