I chose Harper over the deal.
And I'd do it again.
ME: Yes. I'm okay with it.
ROMAN: Who are you and what have you done with Victor Kade?
ME: Funny.
ROMAN: I'm serious. The Victor I know would have sat through that dinner, smiled through gritted teeth, and closed the deal. What changed?
ME: I met someone.
Three dots. Then?—
ROMAN: The wife?
ME: Harper. Yes.
ROMAN: And she's... what? Different?
I think about Harper on the plane, falling apart during turbulence and letting me hold her. Harper in the suite, challenging me, pushing back, refusing to be intimidated. Harper last night, kissing me after I destroyed my career prospects, telling me I made the right choice.
ME: Yes. She's different.
ROMAN: Different how?
ME: I don’t know. Just different
I think about Harper, continuing to text, a smile slowly spreading on my face.
ME: With her, I don’t have to put on airs. Have to pretend. Have to be such an insufferable hard-ass. I can just…be.
ROMAN: Be what? A love-sick, brother-punching normal guy?
ME: Now that you put it that way? YES
ROMAN: Fuck. You've got it bad.
ME: Probably.
ROMAN: Good. You deserve it. Welcome to the club.
ROMAN: Christian and I will get you a Members Only jacket when you’re ready. And speaking of ‘members only’—are you coming back for Thanksgiving?
I blink at the screen.
Thanksgiving.
Today is Thursday. Thanksgiving is exactly one week away.
ME: I hadn't thought about it.
ROMAN: Well, think about it. Christian and I are heading to his Nonna's book club thing to cook we all did before. You should come again. Bring Harper.
ME: To a book club?
ROMAN: It's not just a book club. It's an Italian grandmother cooking experience disguised as a book club. There will be wine. Pasta. Probably some light interrogation about your life choices. It's perfect.
