“Then why are you requesting a protocol?”
“Because I prefer solving problems before they become problems.”
The HR lawyer almost laughed.
“We’ll review.”
The CEO learned two hours later.
She called him.
He answered.
“You told HR.”
“Yes.”
“Before talking to me.”
“Yes.”
“That is absurdly responsible.”
“Thank you.”
“I hate it.”
“I assumed.”
She became quiet.
Then:
“Are you coming back?”
“I think so.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because I liked the work before the company failed me.”
“That does not mean the work became bad.”
The CEO exhaled.
“Good.”
He smiled.
“Good?”
“I wanted you back.”
“I know.”
“But I did not want wanting you back to be why you returned.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
Then she asked:
“Does the conflict protocol mean what I think it means?”
The Single Dad leaned against the kitchen counter.
His daughter was at school.
Apartment quiet.
“It means I’m willing to revisit Christmas Eve.”
The CEO’s voice softened.
“When?”
“After HR approves the structure.”
“That may take a week.”
“You run a Fortune 100 company.”
“I cannot accelerate HR because I want to date someone.”
“That is exactly why we’re doing this.”
She sighed.
“You are infuriating.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Six days later, HR approved.
With conditions.
Documented reporting separation.
No direct employment authority.
Disclosure to ethics committee.
No workplace favoritism.
No relationship-related use of corporate resources.
The CEO complained about the last one.
The Single Dad asked:
“Were you planning to use the company helicopter?”
“No.”
“Then why complain?”
“Principle.”
“Of course.”
They went on their first actual date the following Saturday.
No corporate car.
No gala.
No expensive restaurant.
The CEO chose a neighborhood Italian place because she believed that would make him comfortable.
It did not.
The owner recognized her.
They were moved to a private table.
Complimentary wine appeared.
The Single Dad stared.
The CEO covered her face.
“This is why I don’t go anywhere.”
He laughed.
“Next time I choose.”
“Fine.”
He chose a diner.
She loved it.
Nobody recognized her.
They sat in a booth.
Shared fries.
Talked for three hours.
No audit.
No company.
Almost.
The Single Dad discovered she had grown up middle class in Ohio.
Her father taught chemistry.
Her mother worked in a dental office.
She had built her career through finance, acquisitions, and one impossible bet on a company everyone said was dying.
The CEO discovered he liked woodworking.
Hated television talent competitions.
Read history.
Had once wanted to become an architect but became a father too young to justify unpaid internships and graduate school.
“You regret it?”
she asked.
“Becoming a father?”
“No.”