Page 41 of The Probability of Us

“The one where you presented a few options that might help stabilize our cost trends, but Rob said they decided to take the project in a different direction?”

My lips press together and I nod. I was so frustrated after that meeting because I put a lot of time and effort into developing those solutions and it felt like they didn’t even pay attention to the presentation at all.

“Well, we just had a project update meeting with Ethan,” he says, and my eyebrows pull together in confusion. I’m on that project; I’m supposed to be in those project meetings.

Wait, why were they presenting to the higher-ups? I thought we didn’t have our next steps yet.

“Exactly,” he adds, reading my confusion and its meaning. “When I asked why you weren’t there, Rob looked at me like he wanted to burn me alive, and said you’d been removed from the project. But then guess what his presentation was about . . .”

My eyes widen and a pit forms in my stomach. The words are barely more than a breath when I say, “My ideas?”

He nods, solemnly. “That son of a bitch thought he could steal your ideas and get away with it. Well, I made sure everyone in that room knew who really came up with them.”

My heart swells with love for him. It’s been almost two weeks since we won that trivia night, but he still hasn’t said he loves me yet. I’ve been fighting the urge to say it, and it almost slips out right now.

“Warren.” I reach out for his hand, and he gives it with a smile. “You don’t have to do that. If you speak out too much you might start getting left out of meetings too. It’s not worth it. I just need to stop giving my opinions.”

He shakes his head before I even finish and moves to squat in front of my chair. “Youare worth it, Analise. Don’t you ever let those pieces of shit hold you back. They’re intimidated by your voice, by your mind, by yourpower.You are brilliant, absolutely brilliant, and they’re terrified that if you’re in the room it’ll show how incompetent they are. Ethan thought your ideas were creative and smart, and he wants to start testing them. He also wants to meet the person whoactuallycame up with them. Rob and the others want you to stop, but don’t let them win. Never stop using your voice. Never lose that power. Never stop being you.”

I can’t form words to reply to that. I can’t speak at all. I can only look at him and let all of the love I’m feeling flow into my expression. I absorb his words and weave them into an invisible armor that I will wear from this day forward. If he wants me to keep using my voice, then I will, even if it’s only to see him smile like this, to feel the warmth I feel right now.

He kisses me, just once, but it’s long and gentle and has me checking the time when he pulls away to see how long I have to wait for more.

* * *

The flash of a camera stuns me out of my deep concentration. I look up and Sterling laughs as his Polaroid spits out a print that I’m sure showcases one of the ugly faces I make while I work.

Warren was right, Ethan did want to meet with me, and it was refreshing to feel like someone was listening to me. He wants me to contribute to these projects at a higher level than my current role would typically allow, but said nothing of a possible promotion. He also didn’t say anything about what Rob did, or if there’s going to be any repercussions—although I doubt it.

It was a mix of good and bad, and I left the meeting unsure how to feel about the whole situation, but excited to hopefully prove myself with this responsibility. I’ve been working on the opportunity analysis for the options ever since.

“This one’s definitely making the wall,” Sterling says with a sly grin. His cubicle is full of candid polaroids of people in the office, and my horrible working scowls are on that wall too many times already. “Now, come on, it’s time to go, and there’s finally enough snow on the ground.”

I save my work, grab my bag that’s been packed up for hours, and smile when Warren grabs my jacket and holds it up to help me put it on. But when the five of us get on the elevator, the mood changes. All friendship and relationships are temporarily banished as we tense, planning our strategy.

The second the elevator dings on the ground floor it’s every man for themselves. Trent manages to push us aside and get off first, but Warren’s long legs allow him to overtake the lead and reach the front doors first. Warren stops to ball up some snow and it gives Trent enough time to get out of range as Ali, Sterling, and I exit tentatively. The snowball goes flying at Ali, but she manages to dodge it just in time and it nails Sterling in the ribs—the first victim.

Ali takes off after Trent and I bolt just in time to get out of the way of Warren’s second attack. Sterling runs around, taking candid polaroids of us in the midst of the first ever Triniti Five Snowball Fight. We’ve been planning this since the first snowfall last week, just had to wait for enough to stick.

I drop behind a trash can just in time for it to act as a shield from another one of Warren’s throws and grab some snow of my own. Out of my peripheral vision I see Warren creeping around the right side, so I jut out to the left just in time to catch Ali celebrating taking Trent down, and I beam her with a snowball.

In only minutes, it’s down to me and Warren.

But when I look around, I know I’ve lost. He purposefully pushed me out this way, backing me into a corner between the office building and a wall too tall to scale, where not enough snow has gathered so I can’t even fight back. He slowly stalks closer to me, snowball in hand, like a predator who knows his prey has given up but still enjoys the game.

“Please don’t dump me for this.” He winks then rushes toward me.

I try to run but there’s nowhere to go and I squeal as his free hand wraps around my waist and the other lifts above my head. I brace for the hit of the snow, but he just stands there, staring in my eyes like he forgot all about the competition. And when he speaks, I forget about it too.

“I love you, Analise,” he says, and my mouth drops open. My heart races and I no longer feel any cold from the ice water dripping on my head from his floating hand.

“I love you, Warren.” Those words have been trying to claw their way out of my throat for weeks, so now they flow freely and happily. His face squishes up in a smile I see only for a moment before his lips crash into mine.

I hear the gentle click of the polaroid the moment before a snowball explodes against both our faces. I shriek when the hit causes Warren to drop his snowball onto my head and it falls in a slosh down the back of my jacket. It moves slowly down my back, melting and dripping.

I jerk around trying to get it out, until Warren reaches beneath my jacket to untuck the back of my shirt and let the remaining chunk of congealed snow fall out.

“Better?” He looks like he’s holding back a laugh.

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