Chapter 8 — I Would Have Survived Without You

Ronan didn’t answer immediately.

He looked toward the hotel, then back at me.

“If another executive had presented the same documents, I would have paused the same commitment.”

“Even if I hadn’t been there?”

“If my team had identified the discrepancy, yes.”

“But tonight, I identified it.”

“You gave us a reason to look. The report gave us a reason to stop.”

I folded my arms, then winced when the pressure caught the sore place.

Ronan’s gaze dropped.

I lowered my hands.

“I believe you,” I said. “I just needed to ask.”

“You should.”

He took out his phone.

“Adrian sent an update.”

He opened the message and held the screen where I could read it.

It was brief.

The review team had been instructed to preserve the files, verify the current land status, and compare the revised summary with the supporting reports. No commitment was to proceed until the discrepancies were resolved.

Nothing about Bennett’s wedding.

Nothing about me.

I read it twice.

Ronan put the phone away.

“He was cruel to you,” he said. “That doesn’t make every accusation against him true.”

I looked up.

“The review has to establish what happened. If the materials can be corrected, that will be assessed. If there’s a larger problem, that will be assessed too.”

“You’re capable of being very reasonable for someone people cross rooms to avoid.”

“People don’t usually avoid me.”

“No. They avoid saying the wrong thing near you.”

“And yet you persist.”

“That’s how you know I’m sincere.”

His mouth softened.

My stomach made a noise.

A loud one.

I closed my eyes.

“Wonderful.”

Ronan looked toward the corner.

“The restaurant?”

“Yes. Before my body contributes anything else to this evening.”

We walked slowly.

He adjusted his pace to mine without mentioning the heels.

At the restaurant, a woman near the entrance greeted him by name.

I gave him a look.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m enjoying our anonymous evening.”

The woman smiled.

“Table for two?”

“Somewhere quiet,” Ronan said.

She led us to a booth near the back.

It was a neighborhood Italian place, warm and busy, with scratched wooden tables and a little boy asleep against his mother’s shoulder across the aisle.

Nobody lowered their voices when we passed.

I liked it immediately.

Ronan waited until I sat, then took the opposite seat.

A server brought water.

I ordered pasta before I could develop opinions about what a woman dining with Ronan Varelli should eat.

He ordered the same.

“You didn’t look at the menu,” I said.

“I know what I like here.”

“That’s either comforting or deeply controlling.”

“You can judge after the food arrives.”

My phone buzzed.

Mia.

Alive?

I typed back.

Yes. Left the wedding. Eating.

Her reply appeared immediately.

With him?

I set the phone facedown.

Ronan looked amused.

“Your assistant?”

“She has no respect for professional boundaries.”

“You gave her a considerable amount to think about.”

“I’m going to be hearing about Thursday until retirement.”

The server set bread between us.

I took a piece.

Then I put it down.

“There’s something I haven’t said properly.”

Ronan waited.

I looked at the bread because it was less intimidating.

“I didn’t ask you because I suddenly developed an interest in sharing wedding cake with you.”

“I assumed there was more to it.”

“I wanted a shield.”

His expression didn’t change.

“I wanted to walk into that room with someone Bennett couldn’t dismiss,” I continued. “Someone who would make him question what he thought about me.”

I forced myself to look at him.

“That was selfish.”

“You asked me to attend. You didn’t mislead me about why you were upset.”

“I made rules afterward so I could pretend the original reason wasn’t there.”

“The rules were sensible.”

“They were also convenient.”

He considered that.

I appreciated that he didn’t rush to tell me I was a wonderful person.

“I should have been honest before we went,” I said.

“You’re being honest now.”

“Does that make it all right?”

“It gives me a choice.”

I stopped.

Ronan reached for his water.

“You told me enough on Thursday to know it would be a difficult evening. I agreed to come. You didn’t take my judgment away.”

“I still wanted Bennett to look at you and realize he’d been wrong about me.”

“Did he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does it matter?”

At the hotel, it had.

When Bennett first saw us, I had enjoyed his surprise.

I wasn’t going to rewrite that.

But later, while Ronan was across the room, I had looked Bennett in the face and realized I didn’t trust his opinion anymore.

That mattered more.

I leaned back.

“I think I would have survived it without you.”

Ronan nodded.

“Yes.”

No wounded pride.

No reminder that his presence had changed the room.

Just agreement.

My throat tightened.

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t glad you were there.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You can want someone beside you without needing him to decide who you are.”

I looked down at my hands.

The navy ink from Thursday was finally gone from beneath my nails.

“I used to think being loved meant someone had examined all my flaws and decided to tolerate them.”

Ronan set his glass down.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It was.”

The food arrived.

For a little while, we ate.

I was grateful for the interruption. There were only so many honest sentences I could produce before I needed garlic and carbohydrates.

Halfway through dinner, I looked at him again.

“Why did you come?”

“Because you invited me.”

“That explanation has completed its useful life.”

“It remains true.”

“It remains incomplete.”

He wiped his hands with the napkin and set it beside his plate.

“You really want the answer?”

“Yes.”

His gaze held mine.

“I noticed you months ago.”

My fork stopped.

“At the studio?”

“Yes.”

“When I told you your invitation looked like a notice to appear in court?”

“That wasn’t the first time.”

I stared at him.

“How much earlier?”

“The first order.”

“The hotel menus?”

“You argued with your client’s representative because he wanted you to use cheap paper after approving the better stock.”

“He wanted the original look at half the price.”

“I remember.”

“You were listening?”

“You were speaking loudly.”

“That is a devastating beginning to a romantic story.”

He smiled.

“I liked that you knew what your work was worth.”

Something warm moved through me.

He continued before I could cover it with humor.

“Later, I liked how you spoke to me. You were interested in whether I understood what I was buying, not whether I could buy you something.”

“Those weren’t the same thing?”

“Not usually.”

I thought about his visits.

The questions he could have emailed.

The extra minutes after a sample was approved.

“You could have asked me out.”

“You made your position on relationships fairly clear.”

I remembered complaining to Mia while Ronan waited for a revised proof.

No dates. No introductions. No well-meaning friends offering men who seemed nice.

I had thought he wasn’t listening.

Apparently, Ronan listened to inconvenient things.

“I didn’t realize you were interested.”

“I didn’t ask you to realize it.”

“And tonight?”

“You asked me into a part of your life you’d kept closed.”

“As a guest.”

“Yes.”

“You remember that?”

“Very clearly.”

For some ridiculous reason, the answer disappointed me.

He glanced at my plate, then back at my face.

“The wedding is over, Laurel.”

My pulse changed.

“So it is.”

“I’d like to take you to dinner.”

I looked at the table.

“This may undermine your dramatic timing.”

“Another dinner.”

“A date?”

“Yes.”

“No making Bennett jealous?”

“I’m not asking Bennett.”

I laughed.

Then I let the laughter settle.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d like that.”

Ronan’s expression warmed.

I held up one finger.

“But I have a condition.”