“When the field director called me into his office last week, Manny—Agent Wheatley, that is—was a wreck because he thought they’d caught me trying to break the rules. I was, too. But we were wrong. They never caught me,” he said, and the first twinges of a smile pulled at my lips, too.
“Anyway, the director told me your dad had convinced the VCs that it would be bad optics to have a de facto slave asfounder and chairman, so they agreed to let him use part of the seed funding to buy out the rest of my contract with the feds. So I just flew in from Phoenix, where I hired Maeve as our first employee, convened our first corporate board meeting, and appointed your dad CEO to handle the day-to-day, in consultation with me.”
Still half-smiling, he paused to take a deep breath and blow some hair out of his face. “And as for the board, Erica was the first member appointed, so needless to say, we won’t be getting away withanything.”
If I’d been shaking before, I was vibrating now.Nowit was becoming clear. “You’re?—”
“That’s right.” He swallowed. Nodded. “The F-word. The good one.”
“Foamy espresso?” But I was already laughing, watching his slow smile spread, and thenhewas laughing, and it was done. My tears were flowing already, replacing the shock. “One hundred percent?”
“One hundred percent. Forever. Rest of my life.”
My heart pounded in my ears with a rhythm I knew already—from my dreams. Because thiswasa dream. I’d dreamed it a hundred times, in different settings, different circumstances, different words, but always spent the entire next day in that strange liminal space between the dream’s perfect happiness and the sadness that it wasn’t real. But in none of them had it ever actually gotten far enough to?—
“Can I kiss you?” I blurted out. “Here? Without anybody being beaten, electrocuted, or thrown in a cage?”
He laughed. “Even if you couldn’t, would it stop you?”
“Hell no. But it’s good to know.” I grabbed the back of my apron, fumbling with the ties. “Wait. I don’t want anything separating us. Not even a bakery case. I’m going around.”
“Well, go around then!” Still laughing, he waved me off impatiently.
Still, I kept jerking desperately to unknot the ties until finally Rebekah reached out, grabbed the apron, and yanked it the rest of the way off. She shoved me forward, and as I stepped around the glass case amid the weight of a dozen gazes, my eyes didn’t leave his because they didn’t have to. His coat was still cold, but I felt nothing but warmth as Shai reached out, pulled me to him, and kissed me. And there we joined, bodies melded, curves yielding to angles. An answer given. A puzzle solved. A dream come—once again—to life.
“Wait, should we clap?” I heard Malin ask the others. “Is this a clapping moment?”
“Yeah, I think it is,” replied Rebekah.
I turned back to my friends, tears cascading down my cheeks, and nodded. And they clapped, joined in by the bewildered customers standing in line.
“Oh, thanks, Malin,” said Shai suddenly, reaching past me to accept the small cup across the bakery case, while my eyes followed the trajectory.
“Since when do you drink macchiato?” I asked.
“I don’t. It’s for you.” He thrust it toward me.
“What?” I stared into the cup, at Malin’s off-center but earnest dot of foam.
“Because I didn’t get you one. The night we met. Not that I didn’t try.”
I folded my arms. “You didn’t try very hard.”
“No, I didn’t,” he admitted with a laugh. “But I’m trying now.”
“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear with another ghost of a kiss. And then, coffee in hand, I stood at arm’s length and took a moment to reallylook.
To my infinite relief, his hair had grown back beautifully, not a patch to be seen, and he still wore it swept carelessly to one side, though a bit shorter and darker blond; the sunny streaks muted by indoor work, maybe. He’d let a bit of facial hair grow out, too—a strange but shockingly appealing look on him. Dark wash jeans, short leather boots, and a clearly very expensive watch. Everything tasteful, classic, understated, made to last.
This wasn’t his slave castoffs and institutional uniforms. This wasn’t the flashy suits and gaudy bling of the Langer days.
This washim.
“Shai.” I tested the name—not for the first time, but the first time in the world.
He smiled, swallowed, and nodded. “It’s still taking some getting used to.”
No shit. I shook my head, hot tears still blurring my vision. I blinked them back, suddenly angry that they were marring this magnificent view. “You didn’t tell me. And neither did Daddy. Why?”
