She was trying not to laugh.
“Don’t.”
“Adults are slow.”
“Do not.”
She laughed anyway.
At midnight, church bells rang somewhere several blocks away.
Christmas.
The Female CEO looked toward the window.
“Merry Christmas.”
The Single Dad nodded.
“Merry Christmas.”
Neither moved.
Then she picked up her coat.
The Single Dad helped her with it.
Her hair caught beneath the collar.
He reached up.
Freed it.
His fingers brushed the back of her neck.
She went still.
He did too.
Too intimate.
Too easy.
The Female CEO turned.
They were close again.
Doorway behind her.
Warm apartment behind him.
Snow beyond the glass.
Her voice almost disappeared.
“If I weren’t your CEO…”
He shook his head.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you are.”
She looked disappointed.
Then nodded.
Fair.
He continued:
“And because I don’t want the first thing between us to happen while I’m still wondering whether tomorrow you’ll offer me my job back.”
She studied him.
“What if you don’t come back?”
“Then we revisit the question.”
“What if you do?”
“Then we build something that removes you from decisions about me.”
She smiled faintly.
“You’ve thought about this.”
“Unfortunately.”
“And if we do that?”
The Single Dad looked at her.
“Then maybe I stop pretending I haven’t wanted to kiss you for three weeks.”
The CEO inhaled.
He immediately regretted saying it.
Not because it was false.
Because it was too true.
The Female CEO stepped closer.
One small movement.
Stopped.
“You are making leaving very difficult.”
“That is not intentional.”
“Liar.”
He smiled.
She opened the door.
Cold air rushed in.
The Single Dad took her arm lightly.
“Wait.”
She turned.
His hand stayed near her elbow.
He looked at her.
Then leaned forward.
Not to kiss her mouth.
He pressed a slow, gentle kiss against her forehead.
The CEO closed her eyes.
No power.
No urgency.
Nothing taken.
When he stepped back, she looked almost angry.
“That was cruel.”
He laughed.
“Goodnight.”
She walked outside.
Then turned from the steps.
“Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“The reinstatement offer arrives at nine.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to answer immediately.”
“Good.”
“And…”
She hesitated.
The Single Dad waited.
“Merry Christmas.”
He smiled.
“Merry Christmas.”
She walked toward the street.
No driver.
Her car sat beneath a layer of snow.
The Single Dad watched until the headlights disappeared.
Then closed the door.
He leaned against it.