“I don’t have a list, but there’s something between us. Something far more than just two stubborn people trying to win a battle of wills. Don’t you agree?”
Katja doesn’t answer me as quickly as I would have liked, but she eventually nods. “Yes, but I don’t know how that could ever change.”
“We control that.”
“Exactly.” She sighs, setting her spoon down again to scan the room before finally bringing her gaze back to mine. “We’ve never been able to avoid arguing with each other, or competing, or… whatever all of this has been.”
“But aren’t you tired of playing these games?” I ask. “Because I am. I’m done acting like we’re two generals at war rather than partners with the same goals.”
“I don’t think last night counts as a mutual goal.”
“I mean The Whitney.” Reaching across the table I offer my hand and my heart is racing as I wait for her to slip her hand into mine. I squeeze, brushing my thumb across her skin until she meets my gaze. “We both love this place. It’s home for both of us, and I know we’ll treat her much better if we work together than if we’re on opposite sides.”
“So, business partners?” she asks quietly, and I squeeze her hand tighter in mine when she tries to pull it back.
“I think I’ve made it pretty damn clear I want more than that. The question is if you do.”
“Dex…” She sighs, staring down at her lap, and I feel my stomach tense, threatening to return the omelet I’ve eaten as I prepare for rejection—trying and failing to build up walls inside that might keep the pain out—but after a minute or so I hear the quietest sniffle.
“Look at me.” I manage to keep my voice quiet, but there’s no question it’s a command, and when Katja lifts her head, I can see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes. “I’ve never seen you back down from anything in your entire life, so what the fuck are you running from now?”
“I’m not running.”
“You’re not answering me either.”
“I don’t have an answer. How can you expect me to have one? Yesterday you did… that on the rooftop,” she says, looking around as she avoids using words that would definitely pique someone’s attention. “And before that was the other stuff. And, yes, last night was good, and while you’ve been bossy this morning, you’ve reminded me a lot more of the Dex I used to know… but I can’t… I won’t be treated like that.”
“What if I said I won’t do those things anymore?” I ask, but quickly correct myself by adding, “In public spaces, I mean.”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and release her hand, dropping mine into my lap. “Forget everything else that’s happened. I know that’s hard, but take the money off the table, ignore all of it except what happened last night. If nothing else mattered, would you want to pursue something?”
“Of course, I would, but that’s not—”
“Stop.” Raising my hand, I cut her off so that I can hold onto the ‘maybe.’ It’s not like I’m completely sure about this, I still have questions, doubts… but I also can’t imagine going backward. Not now that I know how perfect she feels in my arms. “Fuck the rest of breakfast. We need to be somewhere we can actually talk.”
“Dex, let’s just—”
“Wait.” I push my chair back and get up, moving to her side of the table to offer my hand once more. “Come up to The Rooftop with me. I got new tiles put in around the hot tub, and I want to go check on the craftsmanship. Plus, we’ll be alone, and even if you don’t want to talk at all, it’s worth it just for the early morning views.”
Katja is thinking again, and while I’ve always respected her brilliant mind, right now I really wish she’d stop overthinking this.
“Please.” It’s not a word I’m accustomed to saying, and I’m not sure if I’ve ever said it to her, which is why I think it actually works.
She stays silent, but she takes my hand and moves her napkin to the table as I help her up and lead her toward the elevators. We don’t speak the entire way up to The Rooftop, and as the doors open, I gesture for her to exit first.
“You redid the floors,” she says as we take a few steps out of the elevators. “I didn’t notice yesterday.” She’s looking the tile over, her expert eye examining every inch. I hadn’t planned on this being some kind of inspection, but I should have known better. When it comes to design, hotel decor, and class, no one is better at it than Katja, which is why she shocks the hell out of me when she says, “They look really nice. You always did have good taste.”
“You think I have good taste?”
“Aesthetically, yes. It’s always been your taste in friends that was lacking.”
Ouch.
“Taking the gloves off already?” I walk past her toward the hot tub, but the clicking of her heels as she follows gives me a sliver of hope.
“That came off harsher than I meant it. I was trying to make a joke.”