He laughed.
She touched his collar.
“Retired.”
“Yes.”
“No HR department.”
“Probably still legally dangerous.”
She kissed him before he could finish.
When the elevator opened, two strangers were waiting.
The older couple separated awkwardly.
The CEO smiled at the strangers.
“Marriage.”
As though that explained everything.
Maybe it did.
Age eventually introduced harder things.
The Single Dad developed heart disease in his seventies.
Manageable first.
Medication.
Diet.
Exercise.
The CEO became insufferable.
She monitored sodium like a hostile regulator.
He accused her of returning to authoritarian leadership.
She said:
“Correct.”
He laughed.
Then followed the diet.
Mostly.
One evening, he sat beside her on the porch.
Their Daughter had visited earlier with grandchildren.
The house was quiet again.
The CEO looked toward him.
“You tired?”
“Yes.”
“Bad tired?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
He smiled.
“You still ask twice.”
“I learned from you.”
They sat.
After a while, the CEO said:
“I’ve thought about something for years.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“The night at the bar.”
He turned.
“What about it?”
“If you hadn’t come…”
He waited.
She continued:
“I would’ve gotten home somehow.”
“Probably.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He understood.
“You think that night created us.”
“Yes.”
The Single Dad shook his head.
“It created an opportunity.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Everything after required choices.”
The CEO looked toward him.
He continued.
“I could have taken advantage.”
“I didn’t.”
“You could have pretended nothing happened.”
“You didn’t.”
“You could have apologized and changed nothing.”
“You changed.”
“We could’ve ignored the attraction.”
“We didn’t.”
“You moved me out of your reporting line.”
“You kept showing up for my Daughter.”
“Then we chose again.”
“And again.”
The CEO smiled.
“So romantic.”
“It is.”
He kissed her hand.
“Love is mostly repeated decisions after the dramatic part ends.”
She became quiet.
“You’re annoyingly good at this now.”
“Age.”
“Terrible condition.”
He died several years later.
Not suddenly.
There was time.
Not enough.
Never enough.
The CEO sat beside his hospital bed.
Their Daughter held his other hand.
He drifted in and out.
At one point, his eyes opened.
He looked toward the CEO.
“You sober?”
She laughed through tears.
“That joke is forty years old.”
“Still works.”
She leaned closer.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“That’s an arrogant answer.”
“Learned from you.”