Relative Design

“Hey.” He nudged the light yellow roses into her hand.

“H—oh!” She knelt right there, in her doorway, to extend a hand to the pup Adam had brought with him. “Well, hello!”

He went to her, belly low to the ground, and sniffed her hand. As if finding her nonthreatening, he yipped and tilted his head into her hand, nudging until she scratched him between the ears.

“Who’s this little guy?”

“You tell me.”

“Me? But—he’s for me?”

“If you two like each other. If not, he liked me just fine.”

She looked up after gathering him in her arms. “No, he’s mine now.”

Ignoring the tickle in his belly, he crouched beside her, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then there we are.”

“I don’t know what to name him.”

“What do you want to name him?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted the golden puppy up and closer to her face, squinted her eyes at him. “I think I’ll call you… Max.”

“Why Max?”

“I don’t know. Seems like a Max. Take a look around your new home, kid,” she said, setting him down and letting him run inside.

“I got you some dog food and stuff. I left it in the car though.”

“Oh, thanks, that’s sweet of you.” She stood on her toes to lightly peck his cheek. “Come on in.”

“Are you ready to go?”

She distractedly picked up the flowers he’d handed her that she’d put on the table when her eyes had landed on Max. “Yellow?”

“Yeah. I think they mean friendship or something, but they reminded me of you.”

“They’re absolutely lovely, whatever the meaning.” She took his hand and tugged him inside since he refused to come in.

“I thought we were going out.”

She turned and headed towards the kitchen as he took his shoes off. “I was hoping we could stay in. Will you bring me the vase on the dining table?”

He detoured to the living room, past it to the crevice where the dining table was and picked up the empty vase before going into the kitchen. “Stay in?”

“Yes. I promise I didn’t cook.”

He laughed and went to the pot where the sauce simmered. “Smells good.”

“Penne a la vodka,” she said with an accent exact enough to impress him. “We’re going vegetarian tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine. Should I take these?”

She glanced at the plates of salad he pointed at. “Sure. Do you want any cheese on it?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Grated Parmesan or feta.”

“I’ll help myself to it. Do you want anything?”

“Just a little bit of whatever you’re having. Thanks.”

She took a deep breath as he took the plates out, leaning against the edge of the counter, before straightening and getting the cutlery. She took the seat across from him after placing the silverware in its place, crossing her legs and accidentally bumping her foot on his leg as she did so. “I’m sorry you wasted an outfit on a night in.”

“Hm?” He glanced down at the casual blazer he’d thrown on over a dark blue button up. “Oh, this is nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. How’s work? You seemed a bit stressed at the office today.”

“Did I?” he asked in between bites of his salad, only now recognizing the feeling in his gut as suspicion. What was she up to? But he’d play. “It’s been a long week.”

“Everything okay?” she asked, wrapping her hands around the cup of tea she’d made herself.

“The books and files are just a mess. I’m trying to fix it all up.”

“How’s that going?”

Still confused, he tried to focus on the conversation. “It’s a hassle. It’s dull, boring, exasperating work. But someone’s gotta do it.”

“Why you? I mean, you’re… what is your exact position in the company? You’re not the CFO.”

He sipped the beer she’d left by his placemat. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is all this? The dinner, my favorite beer, all the small talk?”

“It isn’t small talk. We spend so much time talking about me, I want to talk about you.”

He sat back, tipped the chair on its two back legs. “And the dinner, beer?”

“Chris told me about the beer. And the dinner is just because.”

He considered it, deemed the explanation reasonable. “All right. It’s my company. Partially. I’m part owner.”

“Owner? Of the firm?”

“Yes.”

“How?” she asked incredulously. She’d assumed he was the CEO, but… owner?

“My parents founded company. When my father passed away a few years ago, I took over.”

She instinctively reached across the table to cover his hand with her own. “Your father passed away?”

“Anabel.” He turned his hand, linked fingers with her. “I’m okay. I’ve grieved, and now I’m okay.”

“I can’t imagine the loss of it.”

“It was difficult,” he acknowledged, “but that’s life. I grieved, I lashed out, and then I stepped up.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s always been my parents’ firm. When my father passed, I got his share of the company.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s still overseeing a lot of company issues, but she handles that stuff from home. I hang out in the office, take care of things there.”

“I’m sorry about your dad, Adam.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, sincerely.

“So I remember you telling me you’d always known you’d have to give the band up. Is this what you meant?”

“Yes, actually. I’d always thought it’d be later, when my father finally wrestled me into it without dying, but…” He shrugged. “Shit happens, I guess.”

“Is this why you were never in magazines or anything? Your band was popular enough that they were public fodder, but never you.”

“I knew I didn’t have the luxury of being the typical rockstar because of who my parents were and their connections and everything so I just avoided the limelight as much as possible. And the stupid decisions most musicians make. Especially since I knew I’d be taking over the firm one day. How did you know? That I wasn’t in magazines or whatever?”

“I asked Eliza about you, before we…” She quickly continued, changing the subject. “So how does this work if you don’t have a degree?”

“Minus the fact that it’s my inheritance? It probably helps that I have a degree.”

“What? I thought you were signed right out of high school.”

“I was,” he answered, amused. “There was no way I was getting out of college—signed or not. So I juggled it all around until I got my degree. In fact, Ben and Bree both graduated, the former with some science degree and the latter with… English, I think.”

“That’s impressive.”

He only smiled. “You were talking about the firm, I believe.”

“You know you’re doing well though, at the firm. Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s mine, so I do. It’s a family legacy, and that means something to me. Even if it is stressful as hell.”

She laughed at the odd grimacing smile he wore, standing. It was a maneuver, but she made sure to brush against his arm as she picked up their plates. “I’ll get the penne.”

He frowned thoughtfully at his beer as she left, wondering how exactly it was that she was managing to seduce him without doing a damn thing. When she came back, her arm brushed his shoulder as she set the plate before him and he felt his belly jump at the contact. That was it, he realized with surprise. She’d never actually not hinted at a motive for sex, instead just seeming to enjoy the company.

Well, then. Wasn’t that something?

“I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thanks. Eliza made it?”

“Family recipe,” she confirmed. “One that’ll never be passed to me, for obvious reasons.”

“I’m sure with a little practice—”

She shook her head, sipped her tea. “I like my apartment. I don’t think I’d like it as much were it a pile of ashes. When did you go to Europe?”

“I’ve been visiting every so often since I was about ten.”

“Where in Europe have you been?”

“London, as you know. France, Ireland, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland—”

“Let me rephrase. Where haven’t you been?”

He laughed, shaking his head as she rested her chin in her hand, her elbow casually on the table. “Lots of places.”

“How was Switzerland?”

“Beautiful.”

“I want to go there one day. I wasn’t able to during my time in Europe, unfortunately.”

So he’d take her, one day. But he only sipped his beer before saying, “I’m sure you’ll see it one day.”

“Oh, I plan to, among other places. Tell me about your mother.”

He struggled to keep up. “My mother?”

“You’re close?”

“We are. We drifted a bit after my father—”

“Why?”

“I didn’t handle it well,” he conceded. “I knew I had to take over the company. Instead I continued touring and acting out. Then I realized that I was just making it worse for my mother and quit the band.”

He still remembered the look of surprise on her face when he’d stepped in the office bright and early Monday morning, wearing a suit he hadn’t touched in years.

He’d never seen her looking so relieved in his entire life.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, bringing himself out of his reverie.

“I’m sure she’s proud of what you’re doing with the company.”

“She insists she is. Though I’m still working out some of the kinks.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Would it be any different for you, were you in my shoes?”

“I suppose not,” she murmured, watching him over the rim of the cup she held close to her lips.

She was careful to keep conversation on him throughout dinner, though during dessert (consisting of the brownies she had in fact made all by herself) he did turn the topic around on her, asking about Beckett and Eric.

Simply because she would’ve preferred avoiding the discussion, she pushed back the excuses that sat ready on her tongue and filled him in on everything without any form of pretense.

“His son?” Adam asked stupidly once she’d finished. “They’re… he’s—what?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Wow. Uhm. Okay. I don’t—wow.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“How are you handling that?”

“It’s… complicated. I mean, Beckett should’ve told me. But… I can’t help but wonder what would be different if he had told me. Would my relationship with Eric be different? I wouldn’t want it to be so… does it even matter? You know? I’m all over the place with this, but… I guess, deep down, I can’t help but question if it matters at all. Eric’s been ours since the night he stepped in that house. He’s still ours.”

“A lot of people wouldn’t think that way.”

“That isn’t my concern. He’s family. Always had been, always will be. This doesn’t change anything, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’ve always admired that about you. The loyalty you’ve got for your family.”

“Thank you, really,” she murmured, touched. “You seem tired.”

“Long week,” he said simply and wondered if he’d already said that.

“Maybe you could stay, get some sleep and leave earlier in the morning so you can stop at home and change before going to work.”

“Okay, I’ll just help you pick up first.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on.” She took his hand, pulled him in the direction of her room. Once there, she shoved him on the bed and tugged the covers over him. “I’ll go clean up and come back. Sleep well.”

Using his surprise to her benefit, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and ducked out of the room.

He fell asleep waiting for her to come back and still wondering what the hell was going on.