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7

THE HUSBAND

I ’d just clipped Panther’s leash to his collar and climbed to my feet, when my mobile phone buzzed on my old desk.

I saw Black’s name flash, and a smile twitched my lips.

I was tempted to not answer and just get in my car and drive. Show up at his building, demand he make me a coffee, and ask him which office would be mine.

But now it struck me that he might not be at the California Street building.

I had no idea what cases they were working on right now.

I hadn’t let myself ask him about any of that.

I hit the green button and set it to speakerphone. I began gathering up the few things of mine I’d brought from around my desk and in the top drawers. I grabbed an empty box from the floor and began placing them inside. Panther watched me with interest, his ears perked as he sniffed the box while I filled it.

“Hey,” I said to Black.

“Hey,” he said back, a smile in his voice.

Panther barked, hearing Black. It was a light, sharp, “What’s up?” the big dog used to say hello, but right then, it also sounded like, “Where are you?”

Black chuckled. “I see you’ve got the fuzzy goofball with you.”

“Yep. He gets bored in the penthouse, even with everyone taking turns walking him.”

“I know.”

I felt a faint tension in the silence, and realized he was hesitating.

Stalling, maybe.

“You’re calling,” I commented.

“I am.”

“So you remembered how phones work?” I teased.

“It took me a minute, but it’s like riding a bike, doc.”

“Ah. So you ride bikes then?” I struggled suddenly to picture that as I put a stress ball, an old photo frame, and a few pens in the box. “When have you ever ridden bikes before, Black?”

“It’s happened. Not recently. But it’s happened.”

There was another pause. He cleared his throat.

“So,” he said.

“So?” I prompted. I checked the lower drawers. Empty.

When I didn’t say anything more, he clicked under his breath.

“So, hey,” he said casually. “I know it’s your first day back at work and all…”

“Maybe,” I hedged.

“Maybe?”

“I’m reconsidering your previous offer.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “Which part? The office?”

“All of it,” I said, as casually as I could. “The job part, too. All of it, really.”

A flicker of warmth slid through my chest. I knew at once it hadn’t come from me.

He felt pleased. He felt very, very pleased.

My cheeks warmed with just how pleased he felt.

“Oh. Well… good.” His tone shifted to one of careful, calm acceptance. “Well, everything’s still waiting for you, doc. You can start anytime. And we can do a walk-through with the remodelers whenever you want. In the meantime, we’ve got a lot of open offices.” I felt his curiosity, his wanting to ask. “You still want me to keep your old place there? On Fillmore? Just for a trial period, or––”

“Absolutely not.” I glanced around at the suddenly dingy-looking walls and shuddered. “No. Get rid of it. Please. Get rid of it for real this time. I think I understand now, why I needed to come, but I’m done. I won’t be back.”

“Oh?” he said again.

It struck me as deeply weird now, how polite we were being with one another.

I cleared my throat. “I get it now,” I repeated. “I think I understand my unconscious motives in coming back, even if…” I trailed. I’d fallen into my doc voice without meaning to. “Anyway, I’m done with all that. I’m ready to move forward.”

Hearing how cliché that sounded, I felt my cheeks flush.

“Well,” I mumbled. “You know what I mean.”

“I think so, yes.”

There was another silence.

“Soooo…?” I drew the word out questioningly. “I was about to head your way. To California Street. With Panther. If that’s all right.”

“Yes,” he said at once. “Of course it’s all right.”

He cleared his throat.

I could feel there was more.

“Also,” he said casually. “If you aren’t adverse to working now … for me, that is… today… I have something. Just came in this morning.”

My brow furrowed. “You have work for me? Already?”

“Yes. That’s actually why I called.”

“You were calling me for work?” My brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Yes,” he repeated, as if that were obvious. “We just got a new client, and there are…” He hesitated. “Well, you things involved. I was hoping I could bring you in on this.”

“Me things involved?” I immediately felt wary. “You mean like psychology things? Or like you need another seer things?”

“Both.”

“And you’re being cagey about this because…?”

“I don’t know enough yet.” He hesitated at my silence. “I’d rather not talk about this on an open line, doc. Especially now that I know you’re going to be working for me. I’d rather wait until you get here. But this is a weird one. I’m not sure you’ll approve.”

I pursed my lips.

Huh. That never boded well.

And why did he think the phones weren’t safe?

A different suspicion came over me. Was he testing me? Was this a prank to determine if I was serious about working for him?

“No,” he said at once. “Not at all, doc.”

Who was this client? Government?

“No,” he repeated, even more firm.

Well, we needed to discuss new phone rules, and set up protocols for this new world we found ourselves in. Like how I shouldn’t say the word “seer” on a phone connection he didn’t trust. Like how he should have tipped me off in some way about that before I said it. Like how we needed code words, at least for––

“Agreed,” Black broke in. “Come in, doc,” he cajoled. “So we can talk.”

“Is this job in San Francisco?” I asked warily.

“Yes.” He paused. “Well. Most of it is. Maybe. Probably.”

My eyebrow quirked. My lips twitched. For some reason, I found myself amused more than annoyed. How had I forgotten, so very very quickly, what it was like working for him?

“Are you fucking with me?” I asked, deadpan.

But he could feel me past my tone of voice.

“You’re in an awfully good mood.” His voice shifted from cagey to significantly more amused. “Should your husband be made aware of why? Is this all because you remembered how much you hate sitting through endless, one-on-one whining sessions with rich pricks? And that no one was putting a gun to your head, making you do it?”

I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“I want to go house-hunting,” I informed him. “Somewhere beachy. I was hoping to do that soonish. Like this weekend. Or tonight. Will this new job interfere with that?”

There was a silence.

I felt shock in his light… brief, tangible… followed by an unmistakeable flood of warmth and affection in my chest and abdomen. That warmth rapidly turned to heat, then an intense fire that made something deep and hard and cold in me begin to melt.

It relaxed me so much, I exhaled in pure relief.

“House hunting… hmm.” He pretended to think about that. “I don’t see why it should interfere with anything work-related, no.” He paused. “So my never-ending hints about buying us a house on the beach have finally paid off? Very interesting, doc. Very very interesting…”

“Your hints?” I scoffed.

“Yes, mine. I was beginning to think I’d have to handcuff you to my car and drag you around to look at properties I was bookmarking on Zillow.”

“Sounds far-fetched,” I noted.

“Maybe.” He grunted. “So the beach works for you, then? Possibly a swimming pool? I’d like the option to gawk at my wife in a bikini in private.”

“That sounds… acceptable,” I conceded. “Possibly. So you’re going with me, I take it?” I asked, my voice mock inquisitive. “On this theoretical house hunt?”

“I wasn’t aware it was theoretical,” he scoffed. “And of course I’m going. I fully intend to browbeat you into giving me my way on every particular.”

I snorted a laugh. “So I should go alone? Is that what you’re telling me? Is this all a sneaky way to get out of dealing with real estate agents?”

“Unforgivable,” he said haughtily. “No. And absolutely not.”

There was another silence.

Black cleared his throat.

“So… you’re really in?” he asked. “For the job? Should I put you on the roster?”

I couldn’t help but hear the hopeful note in his voice. At the same time, I could tell my good mood was infecting him, which felt really nice, damn it, after weeks of worrying I was infecting him in the exact opposite direction.

I already had my mostly-empty box, my car keys gripped in one hand, Panther’s leash looped around the wrist of the other. I began walking the wolfhound out of my now-defunct clinical office. I glanced around at the reception desk, the waiting room with its saggy chairs, the coffee table covered in years-old magazines. I only spared one, brief look at the stained carpet where Black and Nick had found Gomey.

I decided I didn’t want anything in that box.

I didn’t want anything from here.

I dumped the box on the reception desk, and slid the leash down to my hand.

“Absolutely, I’m in,” I told Black. “Do you want me to bring bagels back? Or breakfast burritos? I’m kind of hungry.”

Another plume of heat erupted in my chest.

I felt so much of him in it, I shivered.

“Burritos,” Black growled. “Make mine with sausage. Then get your goddamned ass to work, ilya. You’re already late. I’m going to have to dock your pay.”

I scoffed. “Big words for a guy who just got down on his hands and knees and begged me to come work for him again,” I said. “Incidentally, I want a raise.”

“You’re getting a house on the beach,” Black scoffed back. “That’s not enough?”

I finished locking the door behind me and began descending the concrete steps to the street, now bouncing on my heels. Panther walked ahead without pulling on the leash. He sniffed the sidewalk, trees, and stoops with interest, his tail wagging lazily as he led us back to the car.

I could feel me and Black’s light like a tangible, living force, moving between us, strengthening and coiling and growing hotter with each step. It was like the cord that tied us together had suddenly snapped back into place.

It’s stupid, but I almost wanted to cry.

Since everything that happened the previous year, I’d felt so lost. I’d dealt with it by pushing Black away, figuratively and even literally in a lot of ways. I’d taken my name off his businesses, signed everything back over to him. I told him I needed my own job, my own life, that I needed to feel independent of him again, married or not.

He’d said he understood.

He’d promised not to pressure me, or give me a hard time.

He probably did understand, and he hadn’t pressured me, but I think I’d been approaching the whole thing the wrong way.

Black himself had never been the problem.

I’d made it about him, blamed him, but it had always been about me, and now I could feel something in me had changed. I still didn’t want to be co-CEO of Black Industries. I didn’t want to help him run his company; that was his thing, not mine. But I wanted to work with him again. I wanted to work with my friends. I just didn’t want to lose myself.

I didn’t want to lose the person I’d been.

You never will, doc. Never, never, never. I won’t fucking let you.

“It’s a real job, then?” I inquired coyly. “You’re sure? You’re not going to go on some mad power trip in a week and fire me?”

“Of course it’s real,” he said, mock-indignant. “What kind of a liar do you think I am? Of course, I still might fire you. You are very very late coming into work this morning. And I don’t have my burrito yet, and now I’m hungry.”

I snorted, and felt his heat coil liquidly in my chest.

Then, just to be a brat, I clicked the red phone symbol on the glass screen of my mobile phone, and hung up on him.