Page 57 of Fighting Gravity

A sigh heaved out of his lungs. “Not anymore.”

“What’d you do?”

What he had done was a subject too sore, too complicated, and too personal to get into with one of his employees. Instead, Tate deflected.

“Why do you assume the split was my fault?”

Vadim looked genuinely confused. “Isn’t it always the man’s fault?”

“No. But that sounds pretty incriminating.”

“Can’t be. I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Tate blinked. “Ever?”

Vadim shook his head. The man was in his mid-thirties and had never had a girlfriend? With his looks and confidence, Tate was positive Vadim had had more than his fair share of chances. Not that Tate’s story was much different. He’d tried with Rosie, though. With her, all the riskiness of love to his legacy had seemed worth it.

But he’d underestimated the effect of her trauma. It hadn’t occurred to him that Maisie in his home could signal the end of his relationship. It didn’t help to know that Rosie wouldn’t have needed to say, “This is over,” if there wasn’t something between them to end. Words that still echoed in his mind a week later. Words that still twisted his guts in knots.

He’d wanted to show up at her office at eight a.m. that Monday. He’d wanted to have Maisie call and assure Rosie that she and Tate wouldneverbe more than friends. He wanted to confess his plan about the homeless housing project so Rosie knew exactly why he’d been “sneaking around” her office. He wanted to send her tulips in different hues every single day. Tate wanted to fly, drive, plead, purchase, do whatever he could to get her to change her mind.

He’d denied himself those actions because Rosie would want him to, and the inaction was killing him.

He had mourned so much that year. He’d lost two important people who were truly gone before their time. Still, right then, in Vadim’s office, the end he felt most keenly was the one without a real beginning.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Tate said to Vadim. He considered how forthcoming to be with his pilot, then pushed forward. “Fuck it. I never thought I’d ever find someone like her. Didn’t want to. Happened anyway. So, yeah. There’s a first, and last, time for everything. Rosie is my first and my last. Maybe you’ll find yours, too.”

Vadim’s frown was skeptical. “Let’s hope you’re wrong, since she’s not feeling you.”

Tate chuckled. “A born romantic, huh?”

The giant man shrugged. “I know how to make a woman happy. It involves my tongue and the perfect timing to involve their a—”

“All right.” Tate cringed. He didn’t need to hear Vadim’s game plan, especially since he suspected Quinn was waiting on that particular bench. The candid pilot hadn’t even cracked a smirk.

“What are you going to do?”

“Stop listening to you, for one,” Tate answered.

“You know business. I know women. I’ve got lots of ideas if you need them. But if she’s the love of your life, you won’t mope for long.”

“If you don’t drool, I don’t mope.”

Vadim just stared at him with those crazy-blue eyes and an arch expression.

The truth was, Tate didn’t have a fucking clue what to do next.

He wanted to stop missing her. He wanted to watch her read Harry Potter. He wanted to smell the clean cotton scent on the hollow of her throat. He wanted to feel her hair brushing his chest, feel her clenching around him as she tumbled over the edge. He still wanted to hear her say she loved him. He wanted to see her smile. Tate’s gut told him Rosie needed time. The one request he didn’t feel capable of granting her.

No, even after a week, Tate didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even have hope.

32

Three weeks after Rosie quit the idea of Tate, Elle quit OrbitAll.

Rosie had been more surprised by that text than the one Elle had sent when she’d decided to propose to Chen. The two had been perfect together. But Elle unemployed? By choice? Nowthatwas truly shocking.

Rosie cleaned out her second bedroom in anticipation of Elle moving in with her. They’d been roommates in college: yoga in the morning, wine at night, crap TV whenever they could fit it in around Rosie’s architectural studio hours. Maybe they’d have even more fun now, broken hearts aside. The food situation would be greatly improved, at least. They could go to brunch every weekend if they wanted.

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