Because every time I showed too much, someone used it. An investor, a partner, a man I thought I could trust. She paused. And then you happened. And I kept waiting for the moment where you'd use it.
The vulnerability, the fear, the nights where I called you because you were the only person who made me feel like I could be afraid without losing everything. She looked at him. That moment never came. The office was quiet. You just held it, she said.
Every single time. You just held it and went back to work in the morning and never once made me feel like I owed you for it. Daniel looked at her. That's not something you owe me for. He said, I know, she said.
That's the point. She paused. I needed to say thank you out loud, not in a text, not in a phone call. Here, he held her gaze. You're welcome, he said simply without deflecting it or minimizing it or immediately returning it to her the way he would have 6 months ago when receiving anything directly had felt like a skill he'd forgotten how to use.
She looked almost startled by the simplicity of it. Then she smiled. Good, she said. Now, Milwaukee review is Friday. I need you fully focused.
I'm always fully focused, he said. You were thinking about something else for the last 45 seconds. I was thinking about you. She paused. That's allowed.
She said, "Just also think about Milwaukee." He stood. He was almost at the door when she said, "Daniel." He turned. "Saturday," she said.
"I want to take you and Amara somewhere. Not a restaurant, not a work event somewhere." She paused. I made a reservation, but I wanted to ask you first properly instead of texting Amara directly and working around you. He raised an eyebrow.
Progress, he said. Don't push it, she said. He smiled. Saturday works. Amara will want to know if there's food involved.
There's always food involved. Then we'll be there. He left. And in the hallway outside her office, he stopped for exactly three seconds with his hand still on the door frame. And he thought, "This is what it feels like.