“Yes.”
Their walks continued.
Autumn deepened.
Leaves turned gold.
Then brown.
Victoria began discovering parts of the city she had never noticed from the back of a company car.
A tiny bakery Ethan liked.
The shelter where he volunteered.
A park with old chess tables.
She learned he donated blood every eight weeks unless travel interfered.
“Why?”
“Because Sarah needed transfusions.”
Victoria understood.
He fixed Mrs. Wexler’s kitchen faucet.
Victoria watched him.
“You know she has a landlord.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing his job?”
“Because he isn’t here.”
“You’re enabling him.”
“That is a disturbingly corporate interpretation of plumbing.”
She laughed.
Ethan liked making her laugh.
That realization scared him.
He had loved Sarah.
Not youthfully.
Not perfectly.
Deeply.
The idea that his life might include romantic attachment again had always felt disloyal.
He knew logically it was not.
Grief was rarely logical.
One evening after dinner, he took Sarah’s photograph from the shelf.
“You’d like her,” he said.
Silence.
“You’d also terrify her.”
He smiled.
“Maybe that’s why.”
Nora noticed first.
During a video call, Victoria’s coffee mug appeared behind Ethan.
Nora narrowed her eyes.
“That mug is not yours.”
Ethan looked back.
“It’s a mug.”
“It says HAIL DYNAMICS WOMEN IN TECHNOLOGY.”
“Oh.”
Nora stared.
“Dad.”
“Victoria was here.”
His daughter’s mouth opened.
“The CEO?”
“Yes.”
“The CEO who fired you?”
“Technically.”
“And then got stranded?”
“Yes.”
“And you rescued her?”
“I changed a tire.”
“And now her mug lives in your kitchen?”
“It was one dinner.”
Nora began laughing.
Ethan waited.
“Are you done?”
“Absolutely not.”
He ended the call.
She immediately called back.
He ignored it.
Victoria, meanwhile, had her own fears.
Leadership required distance.
That was what she had been taught.
Personal relationships complicated authority.
Relationships with employees complicated it more.
Ethan’s new role reported indirectly into her organization.
Even if no inappropriate decision occurred, perception mattered.
She spoke with Eleanor Shaw, the board chair.
“I’m developing a personal relationship with Ethan Carter.”
Eleanor stared.
“Personal.”
“Yes.”
“How personal?”
“Not yet relevant.”
“Victoria.”
“I’m being transparent.”
Eleanor took off her glasses.
“Are you asking permission?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Because I’m not your mother.”
Victoria almost smiled.
“I’m asking how to handle governance.”
“That I can answer.”
They created boundaries.
Ethan’s compensation decisions would go through the board compensation committee and his direct executive supervisor.
Victoria would recuse herself from any matter affecting him uniquely.
Neither would conceal the relationship if it became romantic.
Ethan agreed immediately.
“That is less romantic than I imagined.”
Victoria looked at him.
“You imagined romance?”
Ethan realized the mistake.
She smiled.
He sighed.
“I walked into that.”
“You did.”
The first time they kissed was not dramatic.
No storm.
No roadside.
No executive office.
They were in Ethan’s kitchen in December.
Victoria had helped cook dinner and proved astonishingly bad at chopping onions.
“You run a company worth billions.”
“That does not require knife skills.”