Page 21 of A Love Most Fatal
“Just about four years ago.”
“How old were you? Young to take over a company, right?”
“Yeah.” She breathes a laugh. “I was 24. Fresh out of grad school and yes, I was definitely overwhelmed. But we made it work.”
“What is the company?”
“We do construction,” she says, and something clicks in my mind. The 30 under 30 list inThe Post, Phoebe freaking out. “Wait, like Morelli Construction?”
She nods. “That’s the one.”
“You took over Morelli Construction when you were only 24 years old?”
“I did. Some of the key shareholders weren’t thrilled, but I think I’ve proven my worth by now. Mostly, hopefully.”
Morelli Construction’s name is practically everywhere. You can’t go a block without seeing their signs on the fences of huge projects around town.
“And it’s a family affair? All of you?”
“Willa went to law school to step in as chief legal officer, her husband does operations, and Mary. . . she’s in charge of the more special projects.” Vanessa lifts a shoulder, and in doing so, her ponytail falls to her back. I look for a moment too long at her collarbone and clear my throat.
“And you like that? Working together.”
Vanessa looks to the dance floor while she thinks. Rex and Phoebe twirl around together, her head on his chest, a serene look on Rex’s face.
“Sometimes it’s hard, but family is important,” Vanessa finally says. “It means something to have people you would do anything for and know that they’d do anything in return.”
I like this idea, the loyalty involved with loving someone so much that any ask isn’t too big.
In the slow swell of the music, I’m looking at Vanessa and she’s looking at me, and I think we might kiss or something, but then the song ends. One of Rex’s college friends comes over the speakers to get everyone to the floor for a conga line and limbo, and I’ll be the first person to admit that group dancing is a delight.
“You don’t have to dance with me, but I will be tearing up that dance floor for at least thirty minutes before we can leave.”
Vanessa grins, a wild light on her face. “Lead the way.”
8
NATE
I takeVanessa to get ice cream on the way home, because even though we’ve been together for three hours, I can’t let her go yet. I have this sneaking suspicion that if I let her out of my sight, I’ll never see her again, and I would very much like to see her for as long as I possibly can.
I keep asking her questions, looking for whatever it is that should signal to me as a red flag, but I think she may be perfect. She’s hard-working, devoted to her family, funny, and beautiful. Her face lights up when she’s excited, and when she laughs, it always looks like it surprises her. I like listening to her speak, holding my breath as she thinks before she answers a question. I could learn from her in this regard, the way she listens to the question in its entirety. I bumble and barrel through speaking, often saying stupid shit before really thinking it through.
I’m better at talking to kids; they’re little twerps sometimes, but they are so good. I love that they’re always learning, their little minds working over new concepts and growing as they do. It’s easier to be myself around them because they all think I’m an old loser anyway. Plus, I don’t need kids to think I’m cool, I need them to trust me and know that I’m trying to help them learn and that I’m a safe person they can talk to if they need to. Theydon’t need to be embarrassed around me because I do my best to be as embarrassing as possible around them.
I’ve never really felt confident around adults in the same way, and especially not Vanessa with her perfect body and sharp mind and assessing gaze that is drawing conclusions about me that I cannot predict.
“Where did you go just now?” She spoons another bite of ice cream into her mouth.
“Was trying to figure out how to get you to like me,” I admit, andthat, that is what I mean by not thinking before I open my damn mouth.
Vanessa’s dimple makes itself known, and it’s so cute I want to do something absurd like kiss it. She shivers, just barely, but I see it. I stop walking and she follows suit with a questioning look. I shrug off my suit coat and drop it over her shoulders, silently hoping she won’t think it’s weird.
She smiles wider, switching her ice cream cup between her hands so she can slide her arms through the sleeves, which are too long on her. I take a step closer and roll them up so they’re not past her palms. When I’m done, I realize how close we’re standing.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.” My grin is making my cheeks ache, and I incline my head to keep walking. We do, but our shoulders are closer than they were before.