Page 80 of The Write Choice

I kiss her jawline. “It was implied.”

She rests a hand on my chest, pressing me away. Our eyes meet again, hers serious even as they’re laced with wanting. “You said you’d go back to New York. Do you want to stay here?”

This woman. This beautiful, wonderful woman. She’s so grouchy and guarded so much of the time, but she has such a soft and caring soul. Not for the first time, I’m overwhelmed with how lucky I am to have met her. I lean in to press my lips to her forehead, then lean mine where my lips just were. “I want to be wherever you are.”

She barks a harsh laugh at that. I pull away, lowering my eyebrows in question. She draws in a deep breath through her nose. “I ran into Daniel today. He said you’d say that.”

“You asked Daniel for advice?” I don’t mean to sound incredulous, but Katie is so rarely willing to ask advice from others. She’s usually the one to dish it out.

“He was being nice.” She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. I guess it’s not, really, except that she was with a friend today, unprompted, and she asked that friend for advice. Something has shifted in her. I can see it now that she’s not struggling through admitting her realization. The air around her lately had been charged and tense, but now it’s more relaxed. It’s as if she only needed to make a decision, and that settled her.

I kiss her again. “It’s a good thing you want to stay,” I say against her lips. “Because I dumped the apartment a week after you moved out here.”

Her eyes fly open, her mouth agape. “You cocky bastard. You were that sure I’d come around?”

I laugh heartily, tipping my head back and pulling her into a tight hug. She leans her head against my chest, and I hold her there, stroking her hair. “I’m kidding. But I did put it on the market, and there has been some interest.”

She wraps her arms around my waist and melts into me. I might be a cocky bastard, but I’m a lucky one, too.

“Are you going to be okay with this job?” Her voice is muffled by my shirt.

“Yeah. I have a plan.”

She pulls back to look at me, a skeptical look on her face. “What plan?”

“It’s a half-plan. Step one is to get my parents out of there.”

“What’s step two?”

I scrunch up my face, closing one eye in the process. I look at her with the other. “That’s why it’s a half-plan.”

She chuckles, and her laugh feels easier now than it did even a few days ago. I soak it in, allowing it to reassure me. We hold each other like this for a while longer, until we finally climb into bed, falling asleep easily.

The next morning, my parents are in my office. Mom sits across from me, her black suit perfectly pressed, a string of pearls around her neck. Dad stands behind her, slightly more casual in a pale blue button-down shirt and navy tie. They’re so stoic, they could be stand-ins for the couple in that famous painting of the farmer and his wife.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes to collect myself. This is not going according to my half-plan. “Look,” I say as I drop my hand back to the desk. “You brought me out here to take over. I understand why you felt it necessary to transition me into this new role, but there are staff issues that have come to my attention. Jamie has informed me that, until I’m officially in charge, there’s not much I can do about it.”

“Who is Jamie, again?” Mom asks.

“From HR, dear.” Dad lays a hand on her shoulder.

I give both of them a pointed, if not exasperated, look. “You’re so hands-off, you don’t even know who heads HR. And that’s fine,” I add quickly. “It’s not a judgment. It’s a statement of fact. You’re both ready to retire. You should. Let me take this on.”

“Honey.” Mom’s voice is patronizing. She’s not going to let go. It’s a good thing I didn’t spend any time planning past step one, then. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on with the staff, and we’ll take care of it?”

“Tattling to Mom and Dad isn’t a great look for someone who is supposedly going to be the new boss.”

Dad squeezes Mom’s shoulder again. She looks up at him, and he smiles down at her. “We’ve been talking about it for a year, Maria. The firm is ready for the transition. This won’t even come as a surprise.”

Mom swallows hard. “I don’t know if I’m ready for the transition.” She faces me again, her hands clenched so hard in her lap that her knuckles are turning white. “I don’t know what I’ll do without this place.”

It’s a rare, vulnerable moment for her, and I don’t want to discount that. At the same time, if she doesn’t go now, she’ll end up half-running this place well into her nineties. “You have each other,” I say gently. “You’ll figure it out.”

Mom groans, but it’s good-natured. “That’s what I’m worried about.” She smiles up at my dad, whose eyes go darker for a second. I shudder and look away. I am so grateful that my parents still love each other, but I don’t need to see it play out right in front of me.

I clear my throat to remind them I’m sitting right here, before turning my attention back to them. Luckily, they’ve returned to their platonic state. Mom looks resigned. Dad looks happy. That tells me all I need to know. “So, it’s decided?”

Dad nods once. “We’ll send a memo at the end of next week.”