The Checklist

by Addie Woolridge

“Really, John?” Steve interrupted, scowling at the mother-son duo, neither of whom looked particularly upset. “We talked about this last week, and I made it clear that we were working on an offer for Dylan as chief strategic officer.”

  “Well, it was your fault for showing your hand when you called to confirm that she was no longer employed with us. It turns out she was, and now she’ll remain that way.” Estelle shrugged, a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth.

  Tim’s mood flipped into agitation, and he began bouncing on his toes, only slowing down to take a sip of his drink so it did not slosh so precariously close to the rim of the glass. “We can do better than them,” Tim declared, leaning conspiratorially toward Dylan.

  Dylan felt surprise jolt her sluggish thoughts. Turning from Tim to Steve, she began, “You want me to stay in Seattle?”

  “We do.” Steve nodded. “Dylan, with us, you’ll have stock options. A junior partner doesn’t have equity.” Steve cast a glance back at Estelle.

  “I’m sorry, darling. You are a nice young man, but I can’t stand to lose,” Estelle purred. “Dylan, how do you feel about being a partner?”

  “We can’t do better than that,” Tim gasped and elbowed Steve, who held up a silencing hand, smiling as he watched Dylan think.

  “I don’t understand. Jared was a junior partner. And this is my first big account. Don’t I need more time or experience or something?” she said, giving her head a shake.

  “Why would you need more time? Steve here will hire you out from under our noses, and your level of commitment is too valuable to let go,” John said, nodding affably at Steve and Tim. “We can come to a happy medium. You stay with Kaplan, and Technocore keeps you on retainer.”

  “That’s better for everyone! More drinks,” Tim said, waving at Trent as if he hadn’t just lost a bidding war.

  The offer was slowly sinking in, and Dylan felt the first tingles of excitement. Looking from Estelle to John, she said, “Thank you. I’m excited about this opportunity. Just one question.”

  “I’d be worried if you didn’t have a few,” Estelle said gently. “After all, this is big news.”

  “Do you mean full partner or, like, I get the title of partner, but I’m secretly a junior partner in all but name . . . that type of thing?”

  “Oh no. We mean partner. It’s clear there are opportunities for Kaplan in Seattle, but we need an office here to dig into the business. In order to do that, we need a new partner. That is, assuming you are willing to move back to Seattle.” John’s tone matched the kindness of his mother’s.

  “I . . . wow. This is a lot.”

  Estelle chuckled at her response. “Your work here has gone above and beyond what we usually see from our consultants. I flatter myself, but your commitment reminds me of when I first started. I’d roll up my sleeves and shovel shit if the client needed it.” Laughing at the surprise on Dylan’s face, she added, “Literally. My first client was a provider of septic tank systems.”

  “I’m honored. Really. Thank you for the offer.”

  “What do you say?” John asked, his arms spread wide.

  Just over Estelle’s shoulder, Dylan could see her family and friends, chatting animatedly and pointing at the pack of camels that had begun to cross the newly transitioned desert. They were loud and messy and constantly in her business. But they were also loving, and as much as she needed order, she also needed their chaos.

  And then there was Mike.

  He had stopped to talk to yet another donor, his posture slightly stooped as he spoke to a small excitable-looking man. He must have felt her gaze, because he glanced up, catching her eye. Dylan couldn’t tell if the smile and nod were for the man bubbling in front of him or for her, but she knew for a fact that the flutter she felt was for him. She forced herself not to back away from the feeling. He had been kind, funny, and open with her. Thoughtful to a fault. Mike couldn’t be a reason to stay, but he certainly wasn’t a reason to go.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the group. Her old highly ordered self was back in Texas. She had changed, and her new self belonged in the place she had left long ago.

  “My answer is unequivocally yes. I’d be delighted to take on this new challenge.”

  “Fantastic,” John shouted, extending his hand.

  “Knew you could do it.” Tim raised his glass. Dylan wanted to point out that he’d known no such thing given the circumstances but decided a smile was a better answer. Next to him, Steve grinned and patted her on the shoulder.

  “We need to send out press releases and get everything settled, so you’ll be split between two offices for a while,” Estelle said, extending her hand. Looking Dylan in the eye, she said, “I’m delighted to have you on board.”

  “Thank you! I’m excited about this opportunity.” Dylan’s smile widened. Just over Estelle’s shoulder, she could see Mike finish his conversation with the bubbling man. He met her eye and nodded. This time, there wasn’t any question who the nod was for.

  “I have every confidence you will rise to the occasion,” Estelle said, glancing over her shoulder at what had caught Dylan’s eye. “Looks like that handsome young man wants to talk to you.”

  “Oh no.” She stumbled over her words, her face heating up as Tim, Steve, and John turned their heads to look. “That’s not anyone. I mean, it is someone, obviously. But not to me. Not right now, anyway,” Dylan finished, her words a flustered tumble as the group turned their attention back to her.

  “Then that’s a real shame for both of you.” Estelle’s answer was direct but kind. Turning to the gentlemen with her, she said, “Boys, let’s go to the bar. Give Dylan a chance to talk with”—she coughed in a gesture so lacking in slyness that any member of the Delacroix family would have been proud—“no one.”

  “Really, you don’t need to go,” Dylan said, laughing at John’s thumbs-up.

  “Have fun tonight.” Estelle winked at her, then looped her arm through Steve’s and sashayed away with more speed and style than her sparkly dress betrayed.

  John raised his empty glass and said, “See you soon,” before turning to catch up to his mother.

  “See you Monday, partner,” Tim said as he walked by.

  Dylan laughed. Remembering Stacy, she shot out a hand and caught Tim’s arm. “Wait.”

  “What’s up?” Tim asked, still looking over at the bar.

  “About those ‘calls’ that you made for my friend Stacy,” Dylan said, wrapping the word calls in air quotes. She now had the full weight of Tim’s attention.

  “What about them?” Tim said, feigning nonchalance with a poker face so awful that she would have to discourage him from entering even a charity tournament in the future.

  “She was over the moon. Beyond grateful. Thank you.”

  Tim relaxed. “Calls are easy. It was no big deal. Really.”

  “Well, it’s a big deal to her. And to me.”

  “I know I’m difficult at times, and after all you did for me, it seemed like the least I could do.”

  “Stacy is running around here somewhere. Short. Gold dress. Tall heels,” Dylan said, looking around the crowded room. When she caught Tim gazing up at the rising sun on the walls, she gave up and said, “When I find her, I’ll make sure to bring her over. I know she’ll want to say thank you herself.”

  “Sounds good. Congratulations. Tonight is a real win for all of us.”

  “Thank you,” Dylan said.

  Watching Tim walk away, Dylan was suddenly aware of her aloneness and the light touch of Mike’s gaze. She took one more sip of champagne before lifting her head to meet it. Mike’s entire posture was relaxed, as if he was completely at ease with himself and where the night was heading. Dylan felt her heart squeeze as she thought about how comforting that easy demeanor had once seemed to her and how alien it felt to be away from it so suddenly. Mike had been a calm in the storm of her own making, and without him, she felt unmoored.

  Dylan exhaled
, as if she were blowing out a birthday candle, then took her first step toward what she hoped was still a safe harbor. She attempted to slow down and match Mike’s mellow saunter toward her, like the Hollywood dress was meant to imply. She closed the gap between them until she was close enough to see the delicate pinstripes on Mike’s suit.

  “All of this,” Mike said, one hand still in his pocket, the other gesturing around the room, “is incredible.”

  He had stopped about two feet away from her. A safe distance if he needed to run for cover. She couldn’t say she blamed him.

  “Thank you. It was a team effort. Deep and Brandt did a lot of the work,” Dylan said, looking around the room, grasping for something to say. “And Susan from your office. She is great.”

  Mike wrinkled his nose at the mention of Susan’s name.

  “What’s that face for?” Dylan asked, unable to stop herself.

  “I have a confession about that.” Mike shrugged, placing both his hands into his pockets. “I was at a conference in Lexington, and I was mad, so I dumped you off on Susan and told her to make whatever Technocore wanted happen. She isn’t a fundraiser or even an educator. She is a mail room coordinator.”

  Dylan blinked at him. “Mail room coordinator?”

  Mike grimaced. “I thought you were going to mail in a pity check and all she’d have to do was tell you the address.”

  She couldn’t help it. Dylan busted up. “Seems like Susan is in the wrong role, my friend.”

  “I’ve been saying that for months, but no one would give her a shot. So I did,” Mike said, relaxing as he watched Dylan shake her head. “Accidentally.”

  “That was a massive shot.”

  “In my defense, I had no idea. And none of the actual fundraisers would help me after”—he paused, choosing his words with care—“the first pass didn’t work out.”

  Dylan tried not to let his delicate phrasing sting.

  “About that.” The band started a big up-tempo number, and she took a half step closer to him. She wanted to be sure he heard her the first time, because she wasn’t positive she would be able to work up the courage to repeat herself. “I’m so sorry.”

  Mike looked momentarily surprised, rocking back on his heels and studying her. For a beat it looked like he might head for the door; then he dropped his shoulders, coming back to his relaxed stance. “It’s okay. Given that guy’s outburst just now, it looks like you had a lot going on.”

  “I mean, yes. But that is no excuse. I was wrong. And I knew I was wrong when I called you, but instead of giving you the apology you deserved, I was mean to you.”

  “You were kinda mean,” Mike said, humor playing in his eyes.

  “Kinda?” Dylan laughed. “I was so mean. Like, I was possessed kind of mean.”

  “You basically ate me alive. I low-key wanted to cry when I got off the phone.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t. I did, and I was the demon on the other end of the line.”

  Mike pursed his lips and shrugged. Dylan squinted up at him as his shoulders shook.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “It’s just the mental image of your head spinning and vomit flying everywhere.”

  “Nice. Now I’m the possessed girl from The Exorcist in your mind. Very sexy.”

  “It’s better than toe emojis.”

  “Low blow, man. Don’t make me regret being nice to you.”

  “I noticed your toes are no longer smiling at me.” Mike grinned as Dylan chuckled and shook her head. “All right. I’m sorry I made fun of your poor taste in pedicures. Continue.”

  “Anyway. It’s . . .” Dylan trailed off, letting the last of her laughter fall away as she collected confidence from every corner of her body. He stepped a few inches into her sphere. His expression betraying his intent, as if listening to her were the only thing he needed to do for the rest of his life. “It’s funny. When you weren’t around, you were on my mind.”

  “How do you mean?” Mike asked, a tender confusion on his face.

  Dylan paused to take the last sip of her champagne before setting the glass on a nearby table. “I used to need lists to get by. And you were at the very top of my no-go list.”

  The turn caught Mike off guard, and she rushed to make sense of herself, her words messy and fast. “But all my careful organizing let me down. I wanted to be different from my family so badly that I missed the good things in front of me. You were the bridge between chaos and the order I was looking for.” She circled her hands in front of her to help her think, then added, “The feud, my family, your family. They are all easier to navigate when you are around. Everything is just easier.”

  Mike’s confusion lessened into something sweeter. He smiled with one half of his mouth, showing off a dimple in his cheek.

  “That is a lot for me, being with someone who doesn’t feel like a safety item on a checklist. I wasn’t sure that I could trust the feeling. Or you. But you didn’t spend time with me in order to make my parents stop howling at the moon. I can just be with you and have no plan. I know that nothing will explode, or you won’t forget and leave me at Costco if we improvise. It’s new to me, but I think I like it,” she said, feeling apprehension take root in her shoulders. “Does any of this make sense?”

  “Dylan Delacroix, are you saying you like me?” Mike’s half smile transformed into something bigger and more reassuring.

  “I guess I am.” Dylan felt herself settle into the warmth of his presence. Taking one step closer, she looked up at him.

  “It’s funny, because I noticed something similar.” He looked up for a moment, watching the ceiling transition from the desert sun to a moonlit sky before looking back down at her. “I resolved to just leave you across the street where I found you. I didn’t want that spontaneity in my life. One minute it was all tuneless karaoke and emoji toes. And the next, I was getting yelled at. Then I missed you. And I couldn’t bring myself to cut you off. Hence Susan.”

  Dylan groaned, dropping her head to her chest.

  “Hey.” Mike gently placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face upward. “That is not where this is going.”

  He moved his hand to her arm, the touch sending shivers up and down her back. She risked looking up at his face, surprised to find contentment where she expected pain.

  “Here is the thing about your lists. You bring a kind of creative energy to them. I mean, I thought I was ambitious. But this . . .” He shook his head, watching the sky overhead, then continued, “You put this together in two weeks with nothing but willpower, a lot of organization, and a few highly motivated friends.”

  “And Susan.”

  Mike laughed, gesturing around the room before letting his hand come to rest on her other arm. “It’s what I missed about you. Why I didn’t cuss you out and leave you across the street. Sure, aspects of your life are hectic, but you seem to have a system all your own for the disarray.”

  Joy pulsed through her as he spoke, and she instinctively leaned toward him, closing the gap between them without her mind asking her body to. She’d spent so long trying to put barriers between them, pretending her emotions were a product of chaos and his feelings some sort of mystery that was bound to dissipate. But here he was, and she couldn’t rationalize or explain him away.

  “Dylan, you are brave. It takes guts to be different from the people who raised you. But you being brave makes everyone around you bolder, including me. When you are around, people dream as big as you do, and they work just a little harder because they see you going after it. I was ready to give up on this dream. I wouldn’t have been this brave or creative enough to chase this without you.”

  Mike slid his arms around her. Looking down at her, he said in a voice so low only she could hear him, “And, I think your lists are sexy. That is the honest truth.”

  Dylan laid her head against the solid muscle of his chest and laughed, the warmth of him seeping into her body as she returned his embrace. As the laughter slowed, Dyl
an turned her head back toward him, her neck elongating with the angle of her chin.

  “So what do you say? Want to give it another try?” His question seemed simple; despite everything that had happened between them, there was no hesitation in his voice.

  The idea coaxed a smile from her. “I sure hope you know a couple other slow-jam-and-sushi spots in town.”

  “I’m sure I can think of a few.”

  Her smile spread as the perfection of the moment sank in. Sliding her hands up Mike’s chest, she felt the fine texture of his suit glide under her palms until she could clasp her fingers around his neck. Stretching up, she could practically taste the champagne on him as he drew her up to him.

  Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of gold caught her attention, and she paused, turning her head slightly to the left.

  Mike’s patient sigh fell on her neck. “What is it? That yelling guy back?”

  “Worse,” Dylan said, dropping from her tiptoes. “We are being watched. By our families.”

  Mike laughed. “Are they waving or filming?”

  Dylan peeked around his shoulder. “No cameras. Technically, only Stacy is waving, but Neale is giving me finger guns, which I think also counts.”

  “Let me guess: my moms are there clutching each other, it’s adorable glued to their faces?”

  “Pretty much,” Dylan said, peeking around his shoulder one more time. “How did you know?”

  Tilting his head back, Mike chuckled. “Neale is the worst secret keeper ever.”

  Dylan groaned, leaning against him, his shirt muffling her words. “She’d make a terrible spy.”

  “You’re telling me. Mom and Ma have literally been asking about it for days. I knew the moment they walked in they’d be watching all night.”

  “And you were going to kiss me anyway?” Dylan said, smiling up at him.

  “Well, yeah. They are already working on a seating chart for the wedding,” he said, smirking and leaning in close to her.

  Dylan tensed as the band shifted to a lush number, the night sky twinkling overhead. Mike bent close enough that she could smell his aftershave and whispered, “Joking.”