“Right. That,” I start, clearing my throat. “I just wanted to – talk to you about what you said at the board meeting.”
“What about it?”
I clear my throat again and feel a flutter of nerves in my belly. It’s an unusual feeling. I’m not a man who is ever nervous. About anything. I’m a man of conviction, and I don’t tend to second guess my decisions because I know they’re based in sound logic and reason. In business, I don’t operate on raw emotion. And when it comes to women, I’ve never had any reason to be nervous, simply because nine times out of ten, I get what – or who –I want.
Which is what makes the churning in my gut so unexpected and interesting.
“Are you okay?”
Berlin’s voice pulls me out of my own head, and I look up, giving her a smile. “Yeah fine,” I reply. “Just lost in thought for a minute.”
She gives me a skeptical look – like she thinks I’m sitting here picturing her naked or something. Which normally is something I’d do, but with Berlin, it’s just – different. I can’t explain it just yet since I don’t understand it myself. But there’s something about her that’s still different – and entirely captivating – even all these years later. I would absolutely love to sleep with Berlin, but I have a respect for her that encourages me to avoid crossing that line or pushing for things I know she’s not comfortable with.
“Anyway,” I go on. “I just wanted to tell you that I respect what you said at the borough board meeting.”
“Thanks?” she replies cautiously.
“I know I’ve asked you this before, but do you really think a delay of twelve to eighteen months will make a difference?” I wonder. “I mean, at the end of the day, they’d still have to move. Right?”
“I think it would make a huge difference in the lives of the people,” she leans forward as she speaks. “It will give them an appropriate amount of time to prepare, rather than simply saying ‘you have sixty days to get out.’ It honestly should be absolutely criminal to throw people on the street like that.”
I nod, hearing the passion and confidence in her voice returning. She speaks so commandingly and forcefully; it’s almost hard to believe she’s the same woman who spoke so timidly to me throughout our dinner together. I guess it has to be something she is passionate about and believes in wholeheartedly for her to get rid of the stammer and quaver in her voice and speak with the confidence I know is in her.
“But,” she adds. “I haven’t given up hope that the borough board will revoke the permit.”
“I got the feeling that wasn’t likely to happen.”
“Then we go to court, and I see about getting an injunction,” she shrugs. “I’m sure I can tie it up for months, if not years.”
I grin and look down at my mojito, still trying to work up the nerve to tell her it’s my company – me – she’ll be fighting in court. I want to, and know I should, but I can’t force myself to say it. Hearing the passion in her voice and seeing the stubborn set to her jaw tells me she won’t take the news particularly well. It could potentially collapse the bridge I’m trying to build between us.
That bridge is admittedly coming along slowly and tentatively, but I feel it’s headed in the right direction. And I really don’t want to fuck it up before it gets going. Maybe if I grant the delay and sit on the project for eighteen months, it will help smooth any ruffled feathers and she won’t be so furious with me. But before I do that, I’m going to need to crunch the numbers and see what kind of hole that puts me in.
“What about the financial burden you’re placing on Compass Development?” I ask, honestly curious to hear her feelings about that.
“Personally, I don’t care about Compass. I hope they take a big financial hit,” she snaps. “Maybe it will teach them to value people over profit for a change.”
“That seems a bit harsh,” I say. “They’re a business and –”
“And it’s their greed that brought us to this point,” she goes on. “They want to turn hundreds of people out onto the street just so they can make a buck.”
I sit back in my seat and open my mouth to speak, still trying to work up the nut to confess my sins to her, but the words won’t come out. I try, but the words just don’t come. And the words that do come out make me cringe inwardly.
“Well maybe you should try talking to somebody at Compass directly,” I chuckle. “Maybe you’ll convince them to scrap the whole project.”
I meant it as a joke, but when I see the expression on her face shift, I know I just opened up a can of worms I hadn’t intended to. It was a stupid joke because I know that inviting her to Compass is going to lead her straight to me – which is only going to piss her off ten times more, given that we’re sitting here together, and I could have just talked it out with her over dinner right here and now.
I feel like there’s a slow ease and rapport developing between us. I’ve wanted to nurture that small spark, helping it to
