“I’m sorry,” she says, and something like guilt passes over her eyes, as if she’s done something wrong. “I know this comes as a shock, and you probably think I’m sneaky and underhanded, but you have to know I was forbidden from telling anyone. And I didn’t think it would matter anyway. Besides, when we worked on the car for the show, we never traded secrets or discussed business, and John checked out the work. The only deal that ever came up between you and me was the Bugatti zombie guy,” she says, rattling off the facts, and I can tell by the speed of her words that she feels horrible. “But you mentioned him in an offhand way, and I already had a meeting with him, and it was just one of those things. You need to know I’m not trying to go after your business, but now that you and I made it official, I couldn’t keep this from you, Max.”
She reaches for my hand and takes it in hers, then locks her gaze with mine. At this moment, she looks so young and innocent, but earnest, too. Gone is that hard edge. Absent is the chip on her shoulder. All that’s left is honesty, a wish to do the right thing.
Tension tightens my body from the force of habit. If I was concerned before about how we’d navigate our relationship and business, I should be a hell of a lot more concerned now. And yet, is there anything wrong with her not telling me? I’ve kept business details to myself, and all things being equal, if I were buying into another shop I wouldn’t tell a soul either. Especially if I’d signed an NDA. What kind of man would be pissed at his woman for wanting to buy a business? She couldn’t tell me because she couldn’t tell me.
And yet, here she is, telling me. Because she didn’t want to keep it from me.
I barely deserve this woman.
I squeeze her hand, and all the tension subsides. “Don’t feel bad, tiger. Am I thrilled you’re buying into my rival? No way. But I respect you and I respect this choice. You were already working for him, so I suppose this is no different. We were going to face this issue. Now we’re just going to face it when you’ve got more skin in the game. Fact is, I’m fucking proud of you. For going after what you want. For pursuing it. And then for telling me.”
She clasps her hand to her chest. “Oh my God, I’m so relieved. I felt awful. I didn’t want to keep carrying this around, and I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I reasoned that you’d learn soon enough. But we’ll figure this out. I mean, Venus and Serena Williams have played tennis against each other, and certainly there have been other competitors who find a way. Prosecutors and defense attorneys, actors vying for roles…”
She looks so hopeful that we’ll pass our first test.
That’s what this is. The chance to see if we can make it all work.
Even though I’m shocked, I have to believe that we’ll be fine. “Whatever happens, we’ll be good. And I hope it’s a good deal for you, Henley.”
“I hope it goes through. Smith and Marlowe,” she says proudly, like she enjoys the sound of it. “It’ll be my chance to grow and expand in New York. I’ve been working so hard on it.”
As the train slows near Grand Central, I figure her honesty is reason enough for mine. If she has the guts to serve up something this big, the least I can do is let her know the truth about Creswell. The truth I should have told her last night.
“Listen,” I say, squeezing her hand. “When you asked me what Creswell wanted to talk about, I wasn’t entirely truthful.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You weren’t?”
I shake my head. “He told me last week he wants to talk to me about doing more work, and last night when he pulled me aside, he was following up on it.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounds empty.
Briefly, part of me wonders why I’m telling her. We can’t just serve up every possible business deal to each other on a platter, can we? And I don’t plan to share every business deal with her in advance. But since I kept the truth from her, this seems to be one I should share. “I’m telling you because this is part of what we need to figure out—how we’re going to deal with the fact that we’re going after the same business. Even though I suspect most of the time we’ll need to keep things quiet.”
“Right,” she says, taking her time with that word. She points at me. “Except you weren’t honest.”
I wrench back. “What was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. But maybe not a lie? Maybe not ‘it’s about a monkey.’ You could have said you were discussing work possibilities down the road.”