At some point the distance between them changed.
Rebecca asked if he wanted to stay a little longer.
Malcolm said they should both understand what staying meant.
She looked directly at him.
“I do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
No confusion.
No mistaken name.
No slurred agreement.
She knew who he was now.
And still asked him to stay.
Malcolm did.
By dawn, the city outside the window had turned pale gray.
Malcolm dressed quietly.
Rebecca sat against the pillows, awake.
Neither of them pretended the night had become a romance.
“This cannot happen again,” she said.
Malcolm nodded.
“I know.”
He collected his work pouch.
At the door, Rebecca said:
“Malcolm.”
He turned.
“I know your name now.”
He almost smiled.
“That’s a start.”
Then he left.
For three weeks, nothing happened.
Malcolm worked.
Rebecca ran Aldercrest.
They passed each other once in a hallway.
She nodded.
He nodded.
That was all.
Malcolm convinced himself they had placed the night in a box neither needed to open.
Then, on a Tuesday morning at 8:42, Rebecca Alden walked into the main lobby while Malcolm was cleaning a streak from the marble floor.
She came directly toward him.
Everyone noticed.
Receptionists.
Assistants.
Security.
A group of junior analysts waiting for elevators.
Rebecca stopped two feet away.
“Malcolm.”
He straightened.
“Ms. Alden.”
“I need to speak with you.”
Something in her expression made his stomach drop.
She lowered her voice.
Not enough.
“I’m pregnant.”
The lobby went silent.
Rebecca continued.
“I believe the baby is yours.”
Malcolm heard somebody’s phone fall against the reception counter.
For several seconds he could not think.
Then the years of being watched without being seen reversed all at once.
Every eye in the room was suddenly on him.
By lunch, there were six versions.
The janitor seduced the CEO.
The CEO had secretly dated him for months.
Malcolm had blackmailed her.
Rebecca was firing him.
Security had found them together.
Someone claimed Malcolm had been stalking her.
Nobody needed facts.
Facts were slower than gossip.
Malcolm finished his shift anyway.
One coworker, Derek Shaw, passed him near the supply closet.
“Man really found the executive benefits package.”
Malcolm stopped.
Derek smiled.
Malcolm looked at him.
Then continued walking.
He knew the arithmetic.
Derek could say ten things.
Malcolm could react to one.
The story afterward would begin with the reaction.
At 4:15, Malcolm picked Eli up from school.
The boy ran toward him holding a drawing.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Ms. Franklin said this looks like a turtle.”
Malcolm examined it.
“What is it?”
“A stegosaurus.”
“She’s wrong.”
“Exactly.”
“A terrible educator.”
Eli nodded seriously.
Malcolm listened to dinosaur complaints the whole ride home.
That evening, after his son fell asleep beneath the same faded blue blanket Danielle had bought when he was five, Malcolm sat alone at the kitchen table.
A new baby.
Rebecca.
Aldercrest.
Money.