Rita
I’m exhausted when I get back to the apartment.
I was right, the first day wasn’t too hard. A girl named Easter (“Mom was a hippie, Dad was a Catholic, they compromised.”) showed me around, introduced me to the team, and started with my training once I filled out a ton of paperwork for HR. She’s small and extremely sweet, but talked really fast, and I found myself struggling to keep up as she threw a ton of information at me all at once.
Now I’m feeling like I ran a marathon. I toss my bag down near the door, kick my beautiful shoes off near the entryway, ignore the fact that they gave me blisters, and hurry into the main room.
It smells incredible. “What is that?” I ask as Scar welcomes me from the kitchen.
“Dinner,” he says, holding up a bottle. “And champagne.” He pops off the cork.
I laugh as he pours two glasses. “What’s all this for?”
“A celebration. To your first day.”
“Oh, yeah? You cooked and cracked open a bottle of bubbly for me?”
“I didn’t cook, I bought some good Italian and I’m reheating it. And the bubbly was already in the refrigerator, so why not.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Don’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.”
He smirks, shaking his head. “I nearly got into a fight with a shopkeeper girl this morning, I’m pretty sure I already got into enough trouble.”
“Here’s to trouble then.” We toast each other and drink.
“Come on, take a seat.” He guides me to the table. “Tell me everything.”
I sit down and he faces me on the same side. I start talking about how it went, from the first moment I walked into the gorgeous, spacious, modern offices, to meeting everyone, to getting acclimated with Easter. I end up putting my feet in his lap, and he absently rubs them as if he knew they were aching.
“Everyone was so nice. I mean, seriously, couldn’t have been more welcoming, but it was still overwhelming.”
“You’ll get used to it. Give it a few weeks.”
I sigh and throw back my champagne. “I know you’re right. And seriously, Scar, that job is everything I hoped it would be. I’m just worried they’ll realize I’m a fraud.”
“You’re not.” He refills my glass. “Far from a fraud. You keep forgetting that I hired you, and I’m the hardest boss in the world.”
“That’s a good point, you are a real bastard in the workplace.”
“And you’re a delight. Don’t get down on yourself.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” I nod slightly, grinning. “Look at us. It’s weird how comfortable this feels.” I regret saying it as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but I can’t take it back. His eyes flash to mine, but instead of anger or discomfort, he’s smiling.
“I actually have some news.” He squeezes my right foot then slowly leans forward. “It’s about Boston.”
“Got an apartment?” I ask, since he hadn’t mentioned anything about his living arrangements in a while. My guts feel soft and squishy. I thought I could handle talk about his move, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it would be better if we pretended like it had already happened.
“Actually, no, and I need to tell my realtor to stop looking.” He reaches out and takes my hands. “I’m not going.”
His words are like gibberish. I stare at him, not comprehending. “Are you going… a little later?”
“I’m not moving, Rita. I’m not going to Boston at all.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, desperately trying to process, refusing to let myself feel hope. Life’s kicked me in the teeth enough lately-I don’t need more pain. “Did the Callahans say you could work from here?”
“No, they didn’t, and I suspect they won’t once they realize I’m never coming out there. But I’m not moving to Boston, no matter what. I’m staying here. With you.”
“Scar,” I say quietly, confused. “I don’t understand.”
He shifts forward, off his chain, onto his knees. He’s still holding my hand, clutching it tightly as he looks up into my eyes. “I need to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I look around, not sure what’s happening. “For what? I don’t get it.”
“I fucked up, Rita. I didn’t know what I wanted until I met with Gregory and everything clicked into place.”
“Gregory? You mean that crazy Callahan guy?”
“The one and only.” He shifts closer. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should’ve pushed you toward the job. I never should’ve taken you for granted. I should’ve made it clear, from the start, that you are important to me, that whatever we’re building between us is important. I know it’s complicated, me and you, but it feels good, it’s the best thing I’ve had in my life in a very long time, and no matter how hard I try to push you away, I keep finding myself coming back. I can’t stop, Rita. I don’t want to stop.”
My head’s spinning. It’s everything I’ve wanted to hear and more. I try to speak, but words refuse to come out.
This is what I need. Scar here with me. I can forget about the job, about Boston, about the Callahans. I can forget my parents, Cait, my burned-down apartment. I can forget everything, so long as he’s here with me.
But I’ve been afraid. He pushes me away, over and over, every time we start to get close. He pulls back, probably because of his past, or maybe because he doesn’t trust himself. I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t matter.
This is what I’ve been dreaming of.
I still can’t find words.
“Rita,” he whispers. “You don’t have to forgive me, but I’m so sorry it took me this long to decide what I want. I didn’t see what was important, what my real priorities were, until recently. But now I can see them clear as anything. You’re what’s important. You’re my priority. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
I blink back tears. A lump forms in my throat. “Scar,” I croak.
“It’s okay,” he says, wiping them away. “I know I fucked up. You can keep being angry with me. If you want to leave, I won’t blame you. If you’re not ready for more-”
“I’m ready,” I blurt out. “God, I’m so, so ready for more.”
His face lights up. A smile spreads over his lips. “You mean that?”
“Scar, damn it, what are you waiting for? Can you just kiss me already?”
He laughs, but he leans forward and obeys. A short peck, a lighter brush, a longer press, and finally, a kiss, a real kiss, a slow and delicious kiss. I hold him, pulling him against me until he stands, lifting me up, carrying me to the couch where he deposits me in his lap. I straddle him, digging myself down, wanting to be as close to him as I can possibly get.
“You’re trouble, Rita Scarfoni,” he whispers, smiling huge. “But god, I love you.”
My body feels like electricity jolts into my fingertips. A pulse, another pulse, another. Joy runs into me, wild and free.
“I love you too,” I say, laughing, unable to believe my luck. “You’re really staying? You’re really not going?”
“Really,” he says. “I promise. I won’t go anywhere without you, not ever again.”
I chew my lip, trying not to smile. “You know, we haven’t been on any actual dates or anything. Maybe we should take this slow?”
“Fuck slow,” he says, hand in my hair, pulling my mouth to his. “You’re my wife. I’ve lived without you for long enough.”
I kiss him, fall into him, feeling like finally, finally, something’s gone right.