48

Chapter 48

The news of my resignation spread quickly through the household. By midday, even Misty seemed to know, staring at me from the windowsill as if she could sense the change. The rest of the staff were more vocal, offering congratulations mixed with confusion.

"You're really leaving, Carl?" Evelyn asked with a sad look.

"I am," I replied, trying to sound okay. "I think it's time for me to move on."

"We'll miss you," she said, her smile softening.

By the time Richard found me in the library that afternoon, I was halfway through a stack of books I'd promised to reorganize before leaving. His footsteps echoed softly across the polished floor.

"So," he said, leaning against the bookshelf. "You're really going through with it."

I braced myself and turned to face him. "Yeah. I handed my notice to your dad this morning."

Richard's jaw flexed as he absorbed the news. He ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head slightly. "So what happens next?"

"Guess I start getting my things together."

"Okay." He replied, then pushed himself off the shelf. "In that case...how about we go on a date?"

I blinked. "What?"

"A date," he repeated with a small smile. "You know, two people going out together? Like normal couples do?"

I let out a nervous laugh, trying to hide the anxiety that was taking over me. Normal couples. That's not what we were, and we both knew it.

"Richard, the last time we went out, it was on a private property. We can't just... go out in public," I said, lowering my voice even though the door was closed.

"Why not?" he asked.

I gave him a pointed look. "Because you're you. And I'm me. If anyone recognizes you, it'll turn into a circus."

"So we avoid the circus," he said simply. "We go somewhere quiet. Low-key. No fancy restaurants or gala dinners."

I hesitated. "But in public?"

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence. He was asking for something I'd always been too afraid to imagine: what it might feel like to be together out in the open. And since this could be our last date, I figured, why not take the risk?

"Okay," I sighed.

His face lit up with a carefree grin, and it twisted the knife deeper in my chest.

"This weekend?" he asked.

"Sure" I agreed.

*******

The weekend came, and when I went downstairs, I saw him waiting for me in the driveway, leaning casually against his car with one hand in his pocket. Just seeing him my heart flutter. He gave me an appreciative once-over when he saw me.

"You look good," he said.

"You told me to wear something nice," I replied, tugging at the collar of my shirt. "You look nice too."

He was dressed casually in a dark sweater and jeans, but somehow still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. His cologne lingered in the car, fresh and alluring.

As usual, he didn't say where we were going. He always like to kept me guessing . In the end, we ended up in a quiet coastal town about an hour away, far from the places where he might be recognized.

"Before dinner, I thought we could check out that old bookstore by the pier," Richard said as he parked the car.

"A bookstore?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. You like books, and I figured... I could use some recommendations."

I found myself smiling. "Okay, let's go."

The bookstore was quaint, with creaky wooden floors and shelves packed with everything from rare first editions to battered paperbacks. It wasn't quite like Edith's bookstore, but it had its own appeal. Richard followed me around, asking about my favorite genres and occasionally pulling out a book with an absurd cover, holding it up for me to judge.

"This one looks promising," he said, holding up a romance novel with a shirtless pirate on the cover, his hair flying in the wind.

I laughed. "Only if you want to read about dramatic love stories on stormy seas."

"Sounds educational," he said, putting it back on the shelf.

We spent the next hour browsing the aisles, with Richard occasionally picking up something ridiculous, only to toss it aside with a chuckle. I found a historical novel that caught my eye, and Richard picked out a mystery that seemed right up his alley.

*********

We walked to the restaurant, just a few minutes down the street. The small, cozy spot overlooked the water, offering a quiet, upscale vibe. As we entered, the host greeted us and led us to our table, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance. It was clear the place was expensive, but the intimate atmosphere made it feel welcoming.

We ordered pasta and wine, and the conversation drifted naturally toward work.

"Hey, remember Janet?" Richard asked, a grin already forming.

I blinked. "Janet? My old deskmate?"

"Yeah." He replied, swirling his glass of wine. "Do you know what happened last week?"

I raised an eyebrow. "No, what happened?"

"So, I was in a meeting with the senior managers one morning. Everything was going smoothly. Then, suddenly, over the PA system, we hear this voice say, 'Attention, wage slaves! Rise up and eat the rich!'"

I nearly choked on my sip of wine. "No way!"

"Oh yeah. The room went dead silent. I thought I'd imagined it at first. But then she kept going." Richard paused and dropped his voice into an exaggerated imitation. "'Reject corporate oppression! Take extended lunch breaks!' I swear, the CFO's face turned purple."

I chuckled, clutching my stomach. "And she still kept her job?"

"Surprisingly, yeah. HR had a talk with her, but apparently she convinced them it was 'satirical performance art.'"

I shook my head. "That sounds like Janet."

I couldn't help but laugh again, covering my mouth when the sound drew the attention of an elderly couple across the room. For a moment, I pushed aside the ticking clock counting down our time and just enjoyed the moment.

As the plates were cleared, I asked, "So, how's work been?"

Richard glanced out the window for a second, then turned back to me. "It's been good, actually. The deal with the Hawthornes for the diagnostic machines is finally moving forward."

"That's great," I said, genuinely happy for him.

"Yeah. I'm flying to Germany in a couple of weeks to meet with some business partners involved in the manufacturing process."

"Germany," I repeated, "That's pretty big."

"Yeah," he said, smiling faintly. "First major trip without my dad breathing down my neck. Should be interesting."

"I'm sure you'll handle it," I assured him.

"Thanks," Richard said, his eyes meeting mine. "It helps having someone who believes in me."

I twirled the stem of my wine glass between my fingers, hesitating before asking, "And... Andrea?"

Richard's brow lifted slightly. "What about her?"

"The whole... 'you were supposed to marry her' thing. Your parents made it sound like that was a real plan."

Richard laughed softly and shook his head. "That was just childhood nonsense. We were kids, Carl. Andrea was my first crush, sure. But it never meant anything serious."

"So it was all pretend?"

"Completely." He smiled, then added, "Besides, she stopped being interesting the moment you came along."

His words made me flush, but my mind immediately drifted to the Hawthornes. Richard thought it was just a joke, but he didn't know about the conversation on the bleachers when their parents mentioned how marriage might be considered as a potential union for both families.

"You know," Mr. Hawthorne had said, his tone turning serious, "this partnership was considered decades ago. But back then, both families only had sons, so the idea of merging through marriage never really went anywhere."

Mrs. Preston smiled lightly. "Well, now that we have Richard and Andrea, the idea seems a lot more likely."

I'd heard about Mr. Hawthorne's vengeful reputation too. There was a story about a businessman who once crossed him in a deal. Mr. Hawthorne didn't just cut ties; he destroyed the company entirely, driving it to bankruptcy just to make a point.

If Richard breaks Andrea's heart... I tried to shake the thought away but it kept creeping back.

I exhaled quietly and forced myself to focus back on the moment.

After dinner, the waiter brought the check, and Richard paid without hesitation, despite my half-hearted protest.

"You're leaving me soon," he said with a shrug. "I get to spoil you while I can."

I smiled, knowing he was right—but he didn't know it yet.

As we stepped outside, the night air was cool and smelled faintly of salt and asphalt. I rubbed my palms together, trying to fend off the cold, my breath visible in the crisp night air.

Richard noticed and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders without a word. The warmth was immediate, his scent lingering in the fabric. The parking lot was mostly empty, lit by soft yellow lights that flickered slightly. Richard slowed his pace, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Hey," he said, his voice quieter now.

I turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Can I... hold your hand?"

I stopped in my tracks. "What?"

He met my gaze, his expression serious. "I just want to know what it feels like," he said. "To hold your hand in public. Just once..."

When I didn't respond, he added, "And, you know, because it's cold."

The request caught me off guard. I quickly scanned the area, my eyes darting around the parking lot, searching for anyone who might recognize him.

"Richard, I don't think that's a good idea," I said quickly. "I'm still your employee."

"Not next month," he reminded me. "And we're literally in a half-empty parking lot. No one will see."

I hesitated. Every instinct screamed at me to say no, to keep the boundaries clear, to remember why I was leaving in the first place.

But it was just a parking lot. And just for a few minutes. If this made Richard happy, then maybe I could give him this moment. After all, this might be our last date.

If I could end it now, I would. Maybe it would make the future less painful. But doing it tonight would only make the remaining days unbearably awkward.

"Okay," I whispered.

Richard's eyes softened. He reached out, and I let him take my hand. His grip was warm and steady. We stood there for a moment, saying nothing, just letting the feeling sink in.

We started walking toward the car. His thumb ran over the back of my hand, firm but gentle.

The world didn't end. No cameras flashed. No drama followed.

But as we reached the car, a prickling sensation crept along the back of my neck. I glanced around the dimly lit parking lot, my heart skipping a beat. It was empty—or at least it looked that way.

Richard gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. I flexed my fingers, still feeling the warmth even as the cool air swept in.

He unlocked the car but didn't open his door right away. Instead, he faced me. "That felt... nice," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It did."

We got in, and Richard started the engine. As we pulled away from the restaurant, the lights of the small town blurred into streaks of gold.

It did feel nice.

I wondered what it would be like if nobody cared about who we were or where we came from. If we could have nights like this, just us, without worrying about the world around us.

But that's not how the world works.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing the thought away, and let the warmth of his hand stay with me a little longer.