"It was a good deal. Strategically sound. The right move for StreamEats."
"But?"
"But Richard Francis is an ass. And working with Alexei would have been—" I exhale. "Impossible."
"So you chose your sanity over the deal."
"I choose a lot of things over the deal."
The words hang between us.
Harper's expression softens. "Victor, I don’t know if?—“
"I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
"Next Thursday is Thanksgiving."
She blinks. "It is."
"My friend Roman just invited us to dinner. At our friend Christian's Nonna's house. With a book club full of Italian grandmothers who will absolutely interrogate us about our relationship."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It does."
"But you want to go?"
"I—" Screw it. Time to be honest. "Yes. I think I do."
Harper's smile is slow and warm. "Then we should go."
"You're sure? You probably have plans with your family."
"We're French-Canadian. We celebrated Thanksgiving in October. American Thanksgiving is just another Thursday to us." She takes another sip of coffee. "Besides, I'd like to meet your friends. See you in your natural habitat."
"My natural habitat is a boardroom."
"Your natural habitat is wherever you're trying very hard not to show emotions." She grins. "So yes. A room full of Italian grandmothers asking invasive questions sounds perfect."
"You're going to regret this."
"Probably. But I'm going anyway."
I cross to her, stopping just close enough that I can smell the coffee’s cinnamon on her skin and the faint scent of my shirt.
"We should fly back to New York tonight," I say. "Get ahead of the fallout. Talk to Rachel. Figure out damage control."
"Okay."
"And I want to do something else."
"What?"
"I want to put you on Weeknight Wins. Film an episode. Thanksgiving special. You cooking with my friends."
Harper's eyes widen. "Victor, that's—the board is already questioning your judgment. Pushing my show right now is going to make things worse."
