Two Dinners and an Apology

Her supervisor called the next morning.

The hold on Clara's schedule had been removed. An administrator had accepted the request as an extension of the old contract. The agency acknowledged that it should have confirmed with Clara before changing her assignments.

Not every visit could be restored immediately. She wrote down the available hours and asked for the correction to be documented.

Adrian texted a little later.

“I spoke to the agency and withdrew the request. I won't contact your employer again. When you're ready to talk, I'll come to you.”

She read it twice and put the phone away.

She missed him in an irritating, physical way. When she discovered one of his T-shirts at the bottom of her bag, she held it for several minutes before putting it in the wash.

At the same time, every notification made her stomach tighten. The photograph was on her phone now, sent by Marcus with her permission. She needed to know whether the person had followed her anywhere else.

Marcus called at the end of the day. He explained what they knew and what they didn't. The photographer had used a rental vehicle. The schedule inquiries were recent. A team was checking for connections to the attack on the estate.

“I can arrange transportation while we investigate,” he offered. “You and I agree on the times. You'll have the drivers' names in advance.”

She accepted for a few days. She didn't need to prove her independence by putting herself in danger. She needed a say in decisions that affected her.

Two days later, she answered Adrian.

“You can come tomorrow at seven. I'm cooking. Don't buy the grocery store on your way.”

He arrived at seven exactly, without grocery bags. He carried restaurant takeout and a bottle of sparkling water.

Clara raised her eyebrows.

“I said I was cooking.”

“Marcus said you worked ten hours. I brought enough for two. If you've already made something, I'll eat both dinners.”

Titan appeared behind him, the leash loose in Adrian's hand.

The pleasure Clara felt at seeing the dog was so immediate she stopped trying to hide it. She bent down, received his muzzle against her shoulder, and closed her eyes for a second.

“Hey, traitor. You didn't even text.”

“He tried using my phone,” Adrian said. “It was an expensive attempt.”

She laughed despite herself and made room for them to come in.

The kitchen was small. Adrian had to angle his chair to keep from blocking the refrigerator. Titan tried to fit beneath the table, gave up, and stretched across the space between the kitchen and living room.

Adrian studied the folding chair.

“It's exactly like the picture.”

“It takes criticism better than rich people.”

“I'll behave.”

For the first few minutes, they discussed practical things. A clinic had offered her a regular daytime shift three days a week. She was still considering it, but liked the prospect of sleeping predictable hours.

Adrian listened without mentioning that he could pay more.

When she set down her fork, he did the same.

“I should have told you about the photograph as soon as I received it. I should have asked what you wanted to do. And I had no right to interfere with your work.”

Clara rested her hands in her lap.

“Why did you?”

He looked at the water in his glass. For the first time, he seemed to be searching for words instead of selecting the most efficient ones.

“Because somebody showed me they could reach you. I had money, people available, and somewhere I thought I could keep you safe. I put those together and treated it as a problem to solve.”

“And I became part of the problem.”

Adrian raised his eyes.

“You became the person I was afraid of losing. And I acted as though that gave me more rights.”

She felt her anger shift, making space for a sadness she could recognize more easily.

“I would have gone somewhere safe if you'd talked to me. Maybe not your house right then, but I would have listened.”

“I know that now.”

“You knew it before. You just didn't want to risk my choosing differently.”

He stayed quiet long enough for her to know he wasn't assembling a defense.

“That's true.”

In the other room, Titan yawned. Life continued inside the difficult conversation.

Adrian rubbed a hand along his jaw.

“Marcus showed me the footage after the fire. There wasn't a camera covering the entire hallway, but I saw Titan dragging me toward the doorway. I saw the men trying to get close. You don't appear until the end.”

Clara didn't interrupt.

“I remember almost nothing. I only know because I watched it. That night, I lay in bed thinking that if he'd let go of my coat, I wouldn't be there. Then I started thinking about other people. About you.”

His voice had lost its volume. She wanted to touch his hand but waited so the gesture wouldn't end the explanation.

“I can't promise I'll never want to give a stupid order,” he said. “I can promise to tell you what's happening before I decide for both of us. And to listen when you tell me I've crossed a line.”

Clara reached across the table.

He looked at her fingers before taking them.

“I have something to work on too,” she admitted. “Sometimes I keep saying I can handle everything until nobody knows I need help. I want to be able to ask without handing over every choice.”

“I want to learn how to do that with you.”

She believed the effort in his voice, not some certainty that everything would be easy.

“Then start by telling me what you know about the picture. Everything that could affect me.”

Adrian took out his phone and asked whether he could call Marcus. They put him on speaker and talked for almost half an hour.

By the end, Clara had transportation arrangements, direct contacts, and an agreement to review the precautions as the investigation progressed. She would keep working. Adrian didn't like every detail; she could feel it in his tense hand. He accepted them anyway.

Afterward, they washed the reusable containers in the sink. Adrian rolled up his sleeves and occupied half the kitchen.

“You're in the way,” she told him.

“I'm drying the dishes.”

“You've been drying the same container for two minutes.”

He set it on the counter.

“I'm waiting to find out whether I can kiss you.”

She turned toward him. The desire had been there since she'd opened the door, tangled up with everything else.

Clara moved closer and caught the front of his shirt.

The kiss was slow, without the easy certainty of their first night, and with something more important in its place. When he put his arms around her, she let her weight rest against him.

“I missed you,” she said against his neck.

“Even my personality?”

“Don't push it.”

He laughed softly and held her a little tighter.

Titan got up to investigate. Clara felt a cold nose against her fingers and stroked the dog without moving away from the man.

For the first time since their argument, she could breathe without feeling she was surrendering something.