Page 107 of Sliding into Love
By the time we get to their place, I've made my decision.
"Okay," I say in the living room, standing by the window as Royce shrugs off their jacket. "I'll do it. But with conditions."
Royce turns to me, unsurprised. They probably knew the answer before I did. "Name them."
"Clear boundaries. We don't discuss work at home unless absolutely necessary. We keep our professional and personal lives separate. As in separate calendars, separate spaces at the office, the whole thing. If either of us feels like it's becoming a problem, we talk about it immediately and figure out if it's fixable. And if it's not fixable, I leave, and we don't make a huge deal out of it."
"Agreed," Royce says. "Anything else?"
"I want my own office. Not adjacent to yours. Actually separate. I need to be able to work independently."
"Done. There’s a space empty on the ground floor. It's yours."
I nod, relief settling in my chest. "Then yes. I'll take the position."
Royce smiles, and it's the satisfied smile of someone who's just won a negotiation they knew they were going to win all along. "Good. I'll have HR draw up a contract."
"Very romantic," I say dryly.
"Very efficient," Royce corrects, pulling me close. "You start in two weeks. That gives you time to adjust mentally and gives me time to get the office set up."
I lean my forehead against theirs. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm going to regret this."
"You might," Royce agrees cheerfully. "But at least it'll be interesting."
My first day back at the stadium is both exactly as I remembered it and completely different. Makes sense considering I haven’t been gone long.
What's different is that I'm not walking in as the big boss. I'm walking in as a consultant, which is somehow less stressful and more stressful at the same time.
My office is perfect. Smaller than my old one, but it's got great natural light, and Royce has made sure it's fully stocked with everything I could possibly need. There's even a coffee maker already installed, which is either thoughtful or overkill. Possibly both.
By noon, I've already had three people stop by wanting to discuss operational issues. By two p.m., I've attended a front office meeting that made my brain hurt in exactly the right way. By four, I've accidentally run into Royce three times, and each time we've treated each other with the kind of professional courtesy usually reserved for people who barely know each other.
It's both hilarious and slightly depressing.
At five, just as I'm about to pack up for the day, Royce appears in my doorway with a look of barely contained amusement.
"How was your first day?" they ask.
"Weird," I say honestly. "You called me 'Kenneth' three times. Just my name. Very formal."
"Professional boundaries," Royce says, taking a seat in one of my chairs. "You wanted them."
"I wanted them at the office, not to the point where it feels like we're strangers. There's a middle ground between 'we're dating and should probably acknowledge it' and 'what's your name again.'"
Royce grins. "I'll adjust. Though I have to say, watching you try to work around me all day has been entertaining. You literally took the stairs instead of the elevator when you saw me waiting for it."
"I didn’t need to use it,” I lie poorly.
"Kenneth, your office is on the ground floor."
Okay, so I'm not subtle. "I was… getting steps in."
"Sure." Royce stands, and I'm very aware of the fact that the office is small and they're standing quite close. "Come get dinner with me? There's a new place downtown I want to try."
"Is this a work dinner or a personal dinner?" I ask.
"Can't it be both? I'm trying to establish that I don't need to completely separate these things just because we're being professional during working hours."
