Victoria propelled herself.
He did not touch chair.
Cold air.
City lights reflected in black water.
They stopped near railing.
Victoria asked:
“Do you ever feel guilty wanting someone after your wife?”
Ethan did not answer immediately.
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Sometimes.”
She looked toward him.
“What do you do?”
“Remember guilt is feeling, not instruction.”
Victoria absorbed.
“My former husband said I became impossible after accident.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“He said that?”
“Not immediately.”
“Eventually.”
“He tried.”
“I was angry.”
“Humiliated.”
“Obsessed with proving independence.”
“He wanted old Victoria.”
“I couldn't be her.”
“So he left.”
Ethan looked toward water.
Victoria continued.
“I learned something afterward.”
“What?”
“People admire resilience until it inconveniences them.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I don't admire your resilience.”
She raised eyebrows.
“That sounded terrible.”
He smiled.
“I respect you.”
“Different.”
“Resilience sounds like compliment people give from safe distance.”
“You're allowed to be difficult.”
“Sad.”
“Wrong.”
“Needy.”
“Brilliant.”
“Mean.”
“You don't have to turn survival into personality.”
Victoria stared.
Then whispered:
“You should not be this good at this.”
Ethan smiled.
“I have flaws.”
“Name one.”
“I leave cabinet doors open.”
“Monster.”
“Grace is considering emancipation.”
Victoria laughed.
He leaned closer.
“Second flaw.”
“What?”
“I want to kiss my former employer.”
“Former flight assignment.”
“Still CEO.”
“Technicality.”
She moved toward him.
“Kiss me.”
He did.
Gentle at first.
Then less so.
Adult desire beneath restraint.
When they separated, Victoria rested forehead against his.
“This is not professional.”
“Definitely not.”
“Good.”
Grace met Victoria six weeks later.
Ethan resisted.
Victoria pretended not to care.
Grace solved both by inviting Victoria herself.
She sent text from Ethan’s phone:
Dad is overthinking. Want pizza Friday?
Victoria replied:
Yes. Tell your father his security protocols are poor.
Grace:
He knows.
Ethan called immediately.
“Did my daughter invite you over?”
“Yes.”
“Did you accept?”
“Yes.”
“I hate both of you.”
Friday, Victoria arrived at Ethan’s modest house with wine for Ethan and a boxed astronomy lens for Grace.
Ethan stared at package.
“No.”
Victoria frowned.
“What?”
“That looks expensive.”
“It is optical glass.”
“How expensive?”
“Less than airplane.”
“Victoria.”
Grace appeared.
“Is that for me?”
Ethan closed eyes.
Victoria handed box.
Grace opened.
Gasps.
“Dad.”
“No.”
“Dad.”