Page 67 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

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"So, Alexander," Mama appears with more food than any six people could possibly eat. "Mackenzie says you're changing things at your company. Making it better for women in tech?"

"Actually," Alex's voice carries a pride that makes my chest tight, "Mac's the one changing things. I'm just smart enough to listen."

"Unlike some people," Nonna mutters darkly. "That Roberto, always talking about supporting her career, but when she got that promotion?—"

"Nonna," I warn.

"What? I'm just saying, this one looks at you like you hung the moon AND respects your brain. The way a man should."

I wait for Alex to tense at the marriage hints, to pull back from the family intensity. Instead, he launches into a detailed discussion with Mama about our corporate culture initiatives, somehow making quarterly retention statistics sound fascinating.

"He's different," Lucia murmurs as we help Nonna plate the main course. "The way he talks about your work... it's like he's proud of you. Both sides of you."

Both sides. The corporate warrior and the woman who still cries at dog commercials. The industry critic and the person who genuinely wants to make things better. The professional and the romantic.

The parts Roberto always tried to separate, claiming I was "too much" when I was fully myself.

My phone buzzes again – another email from Roberto, this time about running into my old boss, the one who gave that promotion to Brad instead of me because I was "too aggressive" in meetings.

Looking through the kitchen door, I watch Alex gesture animatedly as he explains our latest inclusion programs to my father. He's not trying to dominate the conversation or prove his success. He's genuinely sharing his passion for change, giving me credit at every turn.

"He's got a cabin in the mountains," I find myself telling Lucia. "He invited me for the weekend."

"Alone?" Her eyebrows hit her hairline. "Just the two of you?"

"It's not?—"

"It is." She squeezes my arm. "And you deserve it. Deserve someone who wants all of you."

"Even the parts that throw champagne at CEOs?"

"Especially those parts."

Back at the table, the conversation has turned to tech industry mental health. My latest blog post, though they don't know it's mine.

"It's starting important conversations," Alex is saying. "About real support versus corporate performative wellness. About letting people be human in professional spaces."

"Like letting them fall in love at work?" Nonna asks innocently.

"Nonna!"

"What? I read the online excerpts from that wellness journal. Very romantic, that Brad."

I choke on my wine. Alex just laughs, his hand finding mine again.

"Sometimes," he says, eyes meeting mine, "the best things happen when we stop trying to separate personal and professional happiness."

The way he's looking at me – like I'm fascinating and brilliant and beautiful all at once – makes my breath catch.

My phone buzzes one more time. Roberto again, probably with more baby shower guilt. But for the first time since our divorce, I don't feel that twist of inadequacy. That sense that I was too much, too ambitious, too everything.

Because the man beside me doesn't want me to be less. Doesn't need me to choose between being a corporate force and being vulnerable. Doesn't see my strength as a threat to his own.

"About this weekend," I say quietly while my family argues about dessert portions. "The cabin?"

"Yes?" His thumb traces patterns on my palm.

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