Page 162 of Nine-Tenths
I want a partner who wants me. Romantically, and intellectually, and emotionally, and physically. I want a purpose, and a career I'm invested in, and passionate about. I want to change the world for the better. I want comfort, and financial security. I want to be surrounded by people who care about me, and are invested in my well-being and happiness, as much as I am in theirs.
That's what I want.
And I…
That's…
…that's what I have.
I slide to the floor, legs tented, forehead resting on my knees, as the soap drifts down my back and the revelation sinks in.
Ihaveeverything I want.
The partner who wants me enough to fight for me, to defy his culture and his traditions to have me. The purpose, in his farm—my thesis come to life, my passion played out on a grand scale, and if it works, the clout to roll it out to other wineries, to literally change the industry. I have a roof over my head, good food, a warm bed, and the security knowing my every need will be met. I will never have to ration my meds, or skip sessions with Dr. Chen because funds are tight. And Iamsurrounded by people I love, who love me in return. Family, and friends, and… and hoard.
I haveeverythingI want.
All I have to do is get up off the goddamned floor and figure out how to make it work.
So I get up off the goddamned floor.
When I find Dav, with the silent chin-jerks and eyebrow waggles of three staff members whose names I really should learn, he's in the stuffy wood-paneled study on the ground floor.
"Heya," I say, sticking my head around the frame.
I startle him so badly that the papers he'd been reading flap across the desk, and his mouth sparks.
Right.
Must not sneak up on a concentrating dragon.
His hair is a mess, and his waistcoat discarded. He's wearing a white button-down so fine that it's almost see-through and, yeah, okay, despite everything I am absolutely still thirsty for this man. He's got his shirtsleeves all bunched up at the elbows, not even properly cuffed, and yes please and thank you,forearms.
It's not my fault that I get distracted for a second, okay?
"Colin! I didn't know you were—"
Down. Out of your room. Over being a cranky bitch. Alive, my brain supplies for him.
"Feeling more the thing," he finishes lamely.
"Kinda." While I am feeling better, nobody gets over a week-long depressive episode in an hour.
"I checked in on you."
"I know." I step into the office and close the door behind me. There are ears in the hall, even if I can't see the bodies they're attached to. "I appreciate it."
"I'm sorry you're so unhappy," Dav says. "And I'm sorry for my part in it."
"I'm, uh, scared of what happened. And I'm angry as hell at Lt. Gov. Shitstain." Dav blinks hard at the crass nickname, a smile threatening to break through his shock at how abrasive it is. "But I… I don't think I'munhappy."
Relief rushes out of me on the same breath as the confession.
"Truly?" Dav asks, hopeful. He steps around the desk, tentative and unsure of his welcome.
Feeling a thousand pounds lighter, I lean against the door jamb, cock my hip out, and grin.Come and get it, big boy."We still gotta talk through some stuff, and we definitely have to figure out how to handle Lt. Gov. Fuckface, but more-or-less on-the-whole kinda-sorta… yeah? I've had time to think—"
"—wallow," Dav snorts, almost giddy. He prances a few steps closer, skittish.
