The David Park case helped. He finished. Yeah. They ate. Somewhere in the middle of the meal, something relaxed between them.
Something that had been taught across the distance of 400 m, and 3 weeks unwound itself, and they were back to what they had been in those Tuesday and Thursday evenings at the restaurant. two people who had stopped needing to perform for each other. She told him about Elena and David and the 11-day process and Ranata Oay's response when the case closed. He told her about Nashville, the new office, the scope of the regional director role, the particular challenge of inheriting a system that had been managed for years by someone who had confused authority with control. He told her about Lily's art teacher and the gallery wall and the way Lily had already made two friends, both of them exactly as serious and bookish as she was, which Marcus found either heartening or mildly alarming. He hadn't decided yet.
She laughed. He watched her laugh. There was a look on his face in that moment that she caught. And he didn't entirely try to hide something open and warm and quiet. The look of a person watching something they are grateful to be near.
What? She said, "Nothing," he said. "Marcus, I'm just glad to be here," he said. Simply, "That's it." She looked at him across the table.
This man who had pulled over on a dark highway because it was the right thing to do, who had left a charger on a counter with a sticky note, who had written an apartment list at 5:00 in the morning, who had carried everything alone for so long he'd forgotten carrying alone was a choice. and she felt with a clarity that surprised her even now how fortunate she was that he had been the one driving that stretch of I-20 on that particular night. "I'm glad you're here too," she said. They finished dinner. They moved to the couch. She made coffee.
He told her about a podcast Lily had gotten him into, which he was embarrassed about because it was about competitive baking. She did not laugh at him or she only laughed a little bit and he allowed it. at 9:15. She said, "You should probably get to the hotel." You have the handoff briefing at 8. Yeah, he said.
He didn't move immediately. Marcus, I know, he said. I know. He stood up. He picked up his jacket.
At the door, he turned around. The same pause. All the significant conversations in their lives had lived in doorways, thresholds, the moments between rooms. Can I ask you something? He said.
Yes. When this he stopped. When the distance piece gets figured out, however that looks, whatever that is, he met her eyes. Is that something you want? Actually want, not as gratitude, not as a next step, not because the story calls for it.
Because you want it. Yes, she said. No hesitation, no qualifier, no managed version. Yes, Marcus. That's something I actually want.