Deliberately this time.
Suspiciously deliberately.
The Female CEO removed her coat.
The Single Dad looked at the dress.
She noticed.
“Still counting?”
He smiled.
“Always.”
She walked inside.
Two years earlier, the space between the door and the entry table had felt dangerous.
Now familiar.
She placed the small box under the Christmas tree.
The Single Dad looked.
“What is it?”
“For your daughter.”
“She’s not here.”
“I know.”
“Then why tonight?”
The CEO turned.
“Because I wanted one Christmas Eve where I came here for no reason except you.”
That landed harder than expected.
The Single Dad walked toward her.
No corporate hierarchy now.
He had been promoted independently.
Different reporting chain.
The ethics committee no longer required special review except annually.
Their relationship had survived gossip.
Deadlines.
His fear.
Her habits.
Parenthood.
Grief.
Power.
Ordinary Tuesday nights.
He placed his hands lightly at her waist.
She looked up.
“Is this still dangerous?”
she asked.
“Yes.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Anything worth keeping is.”
She studied him.
“That sounds like something written on a mug.”
“Probably.”
Then he kissed her.
No hesitation.
No restraint born from uncertainty.
Warm.
Familiar.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Snow fell beyond the window.
The same city.
Different people.
When they separated, she rested her forehead against his.
“I have something to ask.”
He immediately became suspicious.
“Work?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Monaco?”
She smiled.
“Still no.”
He waited.
The CEO took a breath.
“I want you and your daughter to move in.”
The Single Dad stared.
She continued quickly:
“I know you love this place.”
“I know she loves school.”
“I know we would need to decide everything together.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“I’m asking.”
He said nothing.
Her confidence weakened.
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
“That sounded threatening.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Your face is impossible.”
The Single Dad looked around.
Apartment.
Christmas tree.
Photographs.
The place where grief had lived.
The place where healing began.
The place where she arrived in snow carrying truth inside an envelope.
He looked toward her.
“Your house needs random junk.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Badly.”
Her face changed.
Hope.
“So?”
He smiled.