Sticking to the Script: Cipher Office Book #2

by Romance, Smartypants

  No one ever told Quinn Sullivan off, and it was high time someone did.

  Might as well be me.

  Screw it.

  I marched out of my office and made a beeline to Quinn’s, garnering strange looks from a few of my co-workers. I rounded the corner and bypassed Betty’s desk without announcing myself. I heard her say, “Steven—” but I ignored her (I’d apologize later because Betty was an angel from heaven and didn’t deserve attitude from me or anyone else). I opened Quinn’s door to find him sliding his arms into his coat sleeves.

  “Kat said you gave her your blessing to send me on to Boston.” Not a question, an accusation.

  “Yes,” he replied stonily.

  I let out a bitter huff. “Jesus, you are a cold bastard, aren’t you?”

  It was barely perceptible, but his eyes widened a fraction with what looked to be…hurt? Surprise? Whatever the emotion, it was very quickly replaced by annoyance. I recognized it easily enough, since it had been his default these past months. I pressed on.

  “Six years! After everything I’ve done and everything you’ve trusted me with, you’re just sending me along like it’s nothing!” I was yelling now, and vaguely aware that in my periphery Betty was closing the door for some added privacy. Like I said, angel.

  “What was I supposed to do, Steven?” he responded—annoyingly, at a modulated volume. “Should I have made decisions for you? That would have gone over like a lead balloon,” he sneered.

  He wasn’t completely wrong, but I was hurt and angry, not ready to make any concessions.

  “You didn’t have any such qualms when it came to King. You seem to know what’s best for everybody, huh?”

  Okay, I was an ungrateful dick for that comment, and I knew it. But, again, hurt and angry and not giving many shits.

  “Oh, you want to talk about King? If there’s so much trust between us, why in the hell did I have to hear about your stalker from Alex? It seems to me that I trust you more than you trust me. I had to consider that maybe you’d rather go to Boston.”

  Quinn’s words took the wind right out of my sails.

  I hadn’t imagined he might feel slighted. I only worried about his anger and how his anger would affect me. I didn’t get the chance to tell Quinn about King—didn’t have to open myself up to that, but there was something else I needed to tell him. I valued him, cared about him, so I had to be honest.

  “I owe you an apology,” I said solemnly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you months ago. I tried to hide it from you because I thought you’d lose respect for me. Thought you’d fire me for being reckless and stupid.”

  Quinn stood still, his only motion, three, slow, deliberate blinks. This wasn’t a good sign.

  After a moment he asked, “You thought my reaction to you being assaulted and stalked would be judgment and not concern?”

  “Um…” Shit. My apology wasn’t making things better. Far from it. It looked like I was digging my own grave. But this was the way it had to be. Clean slate. Clean conscience. I owed it to Quinn. I owed it to myself. “When you say it like that, it sounds bad, but I truly didn’t want to upset you. Not when you were so worried about Janie and the baby.”

  “Would you have advised Betty to keep the stalking under wraps if she were in your position?”

  “What? No! That’s insane.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s…” I began but stopped once I saw the gotcha gleam in his eye. Because she’s a woman. He knew what I was going to say and had intentionally backed me into a corner.

  I gave an exasperated sigh and said robotically, “Because she’s a woman.”

  “Men get hurt too, Steven,” Quinn said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “It doesn’t mean they’re weak or that they deserve it. I take Nico’s safety seriously and I take your safety seriously.”

  His voice lost some of its gentleness when he twisted his lips in a snide smile and said, “Just because you have the worst taste in men doesn’t mean you should have to endure abuse and torment.”

  “Hey!” I clutched my chest, pretending to take offense, but his words put me at ease. “I found a good one in the end,” I added. “The best one.” Thinking of Ken brought a smile to my face.

  Quinn shrugged. “If you say so. But if this ever happens again, you come to me,” he ordered, his voice authoritative. “Not Alex, not Dan. Me.”

  “You…don’t want to force me out then?” I asked, my voice tinged with wary hope.

  He sighed, and leaned forward, resting his palms on the shiny desktop. His posture indicated a weariness with the topic. “What Kat wants with you…the position in a company as big and profitable as Caravel…the money…” He paused and looked me dead in the eye. “You think you like flying around in Manuel? Just wait, Caravel will have bigger and better at your disposal.”

  He said Manuel. An involuntary grin sprang up on my face, completely spoiling the seriousness of the conversation. He actually said Manuel.

  “Yes, she needs help,” he continued, ignoring my smile. “But also, I can’t take an opportunity like this away from you, no matter how pissed it makes me.”

  I jumped on it. “You’re pissed?” Tell me more, Boss Man.

  “You’re goddamned right I’m pissed! What the hell am I supposed to do when you leave? Give your work to a junior accountant?” He spat the word with such venom and derision, I kind of felt sorry for our juniors.

  “Janie’s not here, and Dan’s going to be in Boston.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “But it’s more than that.” He opened his eyes. “It’s more than the workload. I poached you because I saw in you someone I could rely on. Someone I could trust to help me take Cipher Systems where I wanted it to be.”

  His next words—so un-Quinn-like—had to be the result of baby hormones. That was a thing, right? New dads getting hormonal? It had to be, because there was no other excuse for it—no other reason why Quinn would give me the exact words I needed to hear in that moment.

  “Losing you would be a blow. Both personally and professionally.”

  Epilogue

  *Steven*

  “So, Steven…” Ken’s grandmother said, pulling my attention reluctantly away from him. He was dancing with Kari, smiling from ear to ear as they swayed to-and-fro. He was dressed in a finely made gray suit and yellow tie. At some point, he’d shucked the jacket and was currently in a vest and rolled shirt sleeves. His golden waves had been gelled to the side hours before but had begun to show signs of resistance by kinking up. He was happy. He was stunning. So beautiful my heart hurt.

  “Are you and my Kenny going to be the next to wed?”

  I chuckled at her bold question. The woman was a complete hoot. I’d been able to spend several hours in her company since Ken and I arrived on Mackinac Island late Thursday evening. She’d been game to spend Friday accompanying the wedding party all over the island for photo shoots. She’d posed for some, but mostly had been content to watch the activity from the horse-drawn carriage, tucked under a thick blanket to shield her from the cold, autumn breeze.

  Friday’s photo shoot had been a day-long endeavor. Everyone dressed in sweaters and knit hats and traversed a bit of the beautiful wooded area of the island, posing next to fallen logs amid brightly colored foliage—brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows dotting the ground and treetops.

  We visited the quaint Victorian-era downtown, posed in front of a shop proclaiming it to be “America’s oldest grocery store,” and pretended to look over wooden crates full of Michigan apples, pumpkins, and jellies. We meandered around the old fort, made our way down to the rocky beach, and even rode the ferry around the strait.

  As Ken’s SO (as Kari referred to me), I was encouraged to participate in most of the staged shots, but there were times when only the wedding party had been required. In those times, I’d been summoned by Nana to keep her company. I enjoyed her humor and her seemingly filter-less conversation. The woman said exactly what she wanted to say—an
d with no remorse. I loved her. At one point I asked her to tell me something about Ken as a little kid, and, of course, she went straight to something embarrassing. Oh, my little Kenny…from the time he was a toddler to when he was about ten or eleven, would stick his finger in his nose whenever he was tired or stressed. Julia didn’t know how to break him of it, but he finally gave it up. Kari used to call him Booger Boy.

  I had been *this* close to spitting apple cider all over Nana. Booger Boy. If I didn’t love that weirdo so much, I’d use it to bust his balls until the end of time.

  Now, seated in the reception, Nana’s bluntness was getting her in trouble. “Mother…” Julia began, chastising her for her intrusiveness.

  “What?” she asked, feigning obliviousness. “Kenny’s my last unwed grandchild and I’m not getting any younger.”

  Despite herself, Julia laughed and shook her head at her mother. “You’re impossible,” she said, then turned toward me, her face shining with happiness. “Please ignore her, Steven, you don’t have to let her put you on the spot like that.”

  “I could die tomorrow. I don’t want to depart this world not knowing,” Nana harrumphed, garnering a unified chorus of scoffs around the table.

  We were in the Grand Hotel—the festivities beginning to wind down. I was seated at a table designated for the immediate families of the bride and groom, but had to be separated from Ken throughout dinner, as he’d been required to sit at the wedding party’s long table at the front of the room. The situation caused Ken a bit of anxiety at first. He worried I’d feel uncomfortable being stuck alone with his parents, grandmother, and Brandon’s parents and step-parents. But it had been fine. Lovely, in fact.

  The whole weekend had gone perfectly. Ken and his father spent time together working toward building their relationship, his parents seemed cordial—if not loving—toward each other, and I could discern no overt curiosity or judgment aimed my way from the other guests. Kari had been especially lovely. Even with the stress of the weekend and moments of snappishness toward some of the party and staff, she’d gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. Not only had she included me in activities, she’d also pulled me aside for a sincere apology for the things she’d said. Looking into those sapphire eyes, so like Ken’s, I couldn’t help but be charmed by her.

  I hadn’t precisely known what to expect with Ken this weekend but found myself surprised by his easy cheerfulness. He hadn’t avoided physical contact with me—he’d been as demonstrative as he’d have been in Chicago—nor had he avoided conversations or introductions, either. He embraced the celebration and duties and was happier and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. Truly, it had been a beautiful weekend.

  As for me, I’d been trying to work toward earning Ken’s forgiveness. I knew it meant time, proving oneself couldn’t happen overnight. But I was all-in, ready to play the long game. I didn’t imagine it was always going to be easy. I had to admit to myself that I let deep-seated insecurities erode my trust in Ken and myself. I’d had to acknowledge that I wasn’t as confident as I thought I was, that I had doubts about my desirability as a permanent partner for someone who was as handsome as Ken—and for someone who had an endless selection of potential lovers. It was all on me, and I needed to work on myself because Ken was amazing and didn’t need the burden of having to constantly reassure me. He deserved to be trusted—judged by his own actions and words and not be tainted by factors he couldn’t control.

  Ken wanted to be known. He wanted me to know the entirety of him and still love him. Didn’t we all want that? Wasn’t that vital to having a pure love? I wanted it. I wanted to wake up sure that Ken knew every flaw and vulnerability I had and still loved me unconditionally. Hiding was exhausting. Living up or down to expectations wasn’t sustainable. Being raw and naked was scary, but it was honest. We couldn’t be known without being honest.

  Since the King attack, we’d been nearly inseparable. Ken had unofficially moved in with me—that is to say, as of now he still had his apartment, but most of his personal belongings had made their way to my place, and the only nights we’d spent apart were nights I’d been in Boston with Kat.

  After Kat had offered me the job eleven days ago, we’d worked out a schedule where I was going to fly to Boston on Sunday nights and return to Chicago late on Tuesdays. I’d do as much remotely as I could while keeping up with my Cipher projects. Caravel Pharmaceuticals was in a mess but would weather it.

  “What are we talking about?” Ken asked from behind me, his hand coming down to rest on my shoulder. He seated himself next to me and draped one arm across the top of my chair. “Not Nana’s impending death again, I hope. Don’t fall for it, Steven.”

  The table erupted into laughter. Even Nana reluctantly chuckled.

  Ken reached over, plucked my wine glass and took a drink. He choked when his dad, smiling devilishly said, “Your grandmother only wanted to know when you and Steven were tying the knot.”

  I worried momentarily that Ken would take exception to his family asking me such things, but he recovered quickly and laughed, his eyes twinkling.

  “When we do, you can bet we’re not doing this,” he gestured behind his shoulder at the lavish reception. “We’ll elope, thanks. No need to hide your wallet. I won’t do that to you.”

  I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he’d said it so plainly and confidently. My face must have displayed my shock because his smile grew wider as he winked at me, rubbing the back of my neck comfortingly.

  “That’s not what I was…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t worried about—” his dad sputtered, brows furrowed.

  Everyone laughed again, this time at Robert’s expense. I could clearly see Ken and his temperament in his father. The resemblance was uncanny.

  I leaned close to Ken and asked quietly, “We’re eloping, huh?”

  Impossibly, his grin grew wider, teeth glinting in the soft ambient light. “Well, it’s my preference, but we should compare scripts and then decide.” He kissed me softly, uncaring of our audience, his attention wholly on me. “But if the only way I can make it happen is by sticking to your script, then that’s what I’ll do, because I want forever with you.”

  Tears pricked my eyes and I was momentarily choked with emotion. “Forever sounds perfect.”

  I loved him and I couldn’t believe sometimes that he was in my life. I’d come so far in this year. From despair to hope, from friendship to love, from doubt to surety—and it was all because of Ken. Ken and his steadfast, open, beautiful heart. I wanted everything with him. I wanted to write my script with him on every page.

  The End.

  Acknowledgments

  In addition to those beautiful ladies, Linda and Brooke, to whom this book is dedicated, there are a multitude of others who were integral to not only getting this book published, but to my heart.

  Steve, my husband, my love, you are in every part of this book. You’re the inspiration, you’re the backbone, and you are the reason I understand what love is. Thank you for being my rock and my muse.

  My sweet teens, thank you for always giving me a reason to keep going. Thank you for being encouraging and most of all, thank you for not asking to read what Mommy was writing.

  Mom, thank you for your unwavering enthusiasm and support. You smiled and cheered for me, even when you were struggling. This book will always remind me of the summer we held each other and cried and laughed and reminisced. Thank you, also, for not asking to read what I was writing.

  Dad, I don’t know if there’s a heaven, but if it’s real, then surely you are there. You gave me so much in life that it seems greedy to ask for one more thing now. But, I’m your child—always needing, always asking. Visit in my dreams if you can. I’d love to see you one more time.

  Crissy, I love you. I’m so blessed and grateful to walk through life with you as my sister.

  Brynne Asher, you were my first editor, my first mentor and helped me build the confidence I needed to share my work. I’m so thankful
for your friendship and wisdom.

  To my fellow Smartypantsers: WE DID IT! I’m so fortunate to have been selected to take this journey with the sweetest, funniest and most generous women around. Everything about this experience was amazing and uplifting. Piper, Nora, Ellie, Elsie, I’ve loved all our chats and appreciate all the pep talks and commiseration. Can you believe this is real life?!

  Last but not least, the two biggest smartypants of them all: Fiona Fischer and Penny Reid.

  Fiona, you are the single hardest working woman in romance. I don’t know how you managed to wrangle all of us cats (lovely, sweet, brilliant ones for sure), get everything organized so beautifully and do it all with boundless humor and otherworldly calmness (seriously, I think you might be an Angel…or an Alien. I haven’t decided which yet). Thank you for working so hard for all of us and for making this experience the highlight of my life.

  Penny. Ah, Penny. So, the thing is, I wrote this because I love you. You—your books, your Sharks of Awesome—came along when I was feeling low. You made me laugh, you made me eager for what was to come, and you gave me a community of friends around the world who were always there to talk. Some of these friends I will have forever. Not only did you hand me quality entertainment and a kind of social life I was missing, but you inspired my own creativity. I wrote this to pay you back, make the Sharks happy, and give love to a couple of your characters I thought deserved it. But now here you are… still giving to me. I don’t know what the heck I did to deserve being in your sphere and having my dreams handed to me, but… here I am. There’s nothing in this world I could ever do to repay all your generosity, nothing I could say that would come close to conveying how profoundly you’ve changed my life. Thank you for giving me my dream.

  About the Author

  Stella Weaver is a reader, writer, sloppy crafter and family woman. She’s a native of coastal northern California who now lives on the Texas Gulf coast. She was a finalist in Love Notes from Purgatory’s 2017 Teeny Tiny Romance Contest and has won the much-coveted #1 Mom of the Year Award (she has the coffee mug to prove it, too).