If only. Ironically, his current interaction with Daniella wasn't too different from how their marriage had started out, before they'd begun sharing a bedroom. If she hadn't barged in and demanded he start sleeping with her, would they still be exchanging text messages with no clue how much more there could be between them?
"She does have some kind of extrasensory perception," Leo said. "I'm afraid she's the one who walks on water."
No, he'd be clueless. She wouldn't. From the beginning, she'd seen possibilities, pushing their relationship into realms deeper and stronger than he'd ever imagined could be between any two people, let alone when one of them was Leo Reynolds.
How had that happened when he wasn't looking? And why did the loss of something he'd never asked for haunt him?
He'd done everything he could to drive her away so she wouldn't be hurt and instead of leaving him, his wife had stayed. Why didn't she get the message already?
With a grin, Tommy nodded vigorously. "Dannie's awesome."
His wife's nickname lodged in his gut, spreading nasty poison.
Leo liked Tommy. He was enthusiastic, tireless, brilliant. So what was it about Tommy simply saying his wife's name that burned Leo up? It was more than jealousy, more than a fear either Tommy or Daniella had less than pure intentions toward each other.
It was because Tommy held up a mirror and Leo hated his reflection.
This Dorito-crunching, Red Bull – slurping wonder kid was a younger, unrestricted, better version of Leo. Tommy could call a woman Dannie and think nothing of it, whereas Leo couldn't descend into that kind of intimacy unless he was drunk on Daniella's powerful chemistry.
And he wished he could be more like Tommy.
Tommy polished off the bag of Doritos. "You're awesome, too. I'm over here soaking it all up like SpongeBob."
A cleansing laugh burst out of Leo's mouth, unchecked. "Thanks. It's nice to have an appreciative audience."
"Dude, you talk and I'll listen, no matter what you say. I'm in awe of you right now. I think I learned more today than I did in four years at Yale. What else can you teach me?"
Oh, no. That was beyond the realm of his role. He and Tommy were financial partners, with a carefully constructed agreement separating their interests into neat boxes. That should be the extent of their relationship.
Should be. Everything should fit into a neat box. And nothing did, despite all of Leo's efforts.
"What do you want to know?"
With a lusty sigh, Tommy grinned. "Everything. Lay it on me."
And that was it. For the first time in his life, Leo had become an in-the-flesh mentor and for whatever reason, it felt right. It was a connection with his profit margin, one he'd never explored but suddenly wanted to.
All business is personal.
His wife had pointed that out long ago and he'd brushed it off as foolish sentiment. But it suddenly made brilliant sense. He hadn't lost the deal for Mastermind Media because he'd lost his edge, but because he'd willfully chosen not to enter into a partnership with Dax, for whom he'd lost a great deal of respect. His relationship with Daniella merely highlighted it, but hadn't caused it.
Leo's relationship with Daniella shone into all of his corners and scared away the excuses, the fears. She hadn't left him because she'd already figured out what Leo should have seen long ago.
Their arrangement was dead. Now they had an opportunity to make their marriage something else.
Instead of being like Tommy, maybe Leo should be a better version of himself. One that could be worthy of a woman like Daniella Reynolds.
Leo's morose mood lightened. After setting aside two afternoons a week for Tommy to bring his best SpongeBob absorption skills, Leo kicked his new disciple out of his office so he could leave.
When he got home, Leo paused outside Daniella's closed bedroom door and placed his palm flat against it, as he did every night. Sometimes he imagined he could feel her breathing through the door. The scent of strawberries lingered in the hall, wrapping around him.
He'd built this home as a fortress, a place that represented all the stability he'd never had as a child. Daniella had become an inseparable part of that. How could he ever have lived here without her? How could he explain to her what value she'd brought to his life?
Guilt gnawed a new hole in his gut. She deserved so much more than what he'd given her.
She should have left him.
The main goal of marriage was security. Odd how he felt as though the ground was disappearing beneath him at an alarming pace the longer he had a wife in name only.
Instead of standing there like a stalker, he knocked and shifted the bulky package in his hand before him like a peace offering. He prayed it might change things but he had no clue how, or what that change might look like.
He just knew he couldn't do marriage like this anymore. The ball was in his court. Had been the entire time. Hopefully he'd picked up the proper racket.
Daniella opened the door, shiny hair down around her face and clad in a skintight tank top and loose pajama bottoms with her flat midriff peeking through. The swift, hard punch to his solar plexus nearly rendered him speechless.
Somehow he managed to choke out, "Hi."
Her luminous brown eyes sought his and a wealth of unexpressed things poured from them. "Hi."
"A gift. For you." He handed her the wrapped package and laced his fingers behind his back before he pulled her into an embrace she probably wouldn't welcome. But oh, dear God, did he want to touch her. "You gave me one. I'm returning the favor."
She ripped it open and his thudding heart deafened him as he waited.
Silently, she evaluated the basket of pomegranates. "What does this mean?"
She tilted the basket as if to show him, which was unnecessary. He'd placed each one in the basket himself, positioning it just so to interlock with the others. "You're still driving me pomegranates. Sleeping in separate bedrooms hasn't changed that."
The tension spiraled between them, squeezing his lungs, and he smiled in hopes of loosening it.
"I got that part. Why are you giving them to me?" Her gaze probed his, challenging him and killing his smile. She wasn't going to make this easy. She always had before, using her special powers to figure out exactly how to help him navigate.
Not this time. He shifted from foot to foot but couldn't find a comfortable stance. "Because I wanted to give you something that had special significance."
Her expression didn't change. "So it's nothing more than a gift designed to buy your way out of giving me anything emotional."
What did she want from him? A pound of flesh? She held in her hands one of the most emotional things he'd ever done. Somehow he had to make her see that.
"It's not just a gift, like jewelry. It's better than that."
Frozen, she stared at him for an eternity, long enough for him to realize he'd devalued the diamonds he'd given her for the party. Which were in her earlobes at this moment.
This was not going at all how he'd envisioned. She was supposed to make the first move. Fall into his arms and tell him this separation was killing her, too.
At the very least, she should be giving him a choice between two impossible options and then pretending it was okay when he picked the wrong one. The way she always did.
Floundering, he cast about for a lifeboat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"How did you mean it? Or do you even know?"
"I do know!" At her raised eyebrows, he faltered. It had been an off-the-cuff protest. And a lie. Nothing between them was tangible. Or quantifiable. Which made it impossible to define the bottom line.
This was like a bad joke. What did the guy who had never hung on to a woman longer than a few weeks say to his wife? If only she'd tell him the punch line, they could move past this.
"What do you want me to say?"
"That's for you to figure out. I'll be here when you do. Thank you for the pomegranates."
With that, she closed the door in his face. Because at the end of the day, she knew the truth as well as he did. Jewelry. Pomegranates. Same difference. He still hadn't given her the one thing she really wanted-everything.
If he truly hoped to change their marriage, he had to dig much deeper. And it was going to hurt.