Annie spent the next ten minutes regretting a single message. I missed you before I even got inside. It was a terrible message. An impulsive message. A message that should never have escaped the privacy of her thoughts and entered Brian Starks’s phone. She sat on her bed, staring at the conversation as though she could somehow retrieve the words. She couldn’t. Worse, Brian had replied. I missed you too. Annie dropped backward onto her pillows. “Disaster.” Her phone vibrated again. Brian: Are you regretting what you said? Annie sat up. Annie: Why would I regret it? Brian: You’ve been silent for ten minutes. Annie: I’m giving you time to appreciate the privilege of being missed by me. Brian: I appreciate it. She stared at his reply. There was no teasing. No attempt to make her uncomfortable. Just a simple acknowledgment. That made her chest feel strangely warm. Annie: Don’t get used to it. Brian: Too late. Annie pressed her lips together. She was going to have to stop giving this man opportunities to win conversations. Unfortunately, he seemed to win even when she said nothing. A knock sounded at her door. Before she could answer, Emily entered carrying two cups of tea. “You look like someone has committed a crime.” “Someone has.” “Brian?” “Worse. I committed the crime.” Emily placed one cup on the bedside table. “What did you do?” Annie held up her phone. Emily read the messages. Her expression softened immediately. “Oh.” Annie groaned. “Don’t say it like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’ve just confessed to a serious emotional offense.” “You told him you missed him.” “Exactly.” “And he said he missed you too.” “That’s the problem.” Emily sat beside her. “Why is that a problem?” “Because he meant it.” Emily looked at her for a moment. “And you didn’t?” Annie opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Emily smiled gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of every honest feeling, Annie.” “I’m not afraid.” “You’re lying.” “I’m offended.” “That too.” Annie picked up her tea and stared into it. “What if I get used to him?” she asked. “You already are.” “What if I need him?” Emily’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. “Needing someone isn’t the same as losing yourself.” Annie looked up. “You can love someone and still remain yourself,” Emily continued. “You can have your own opinions, your own goals, your own life. The right person won’t ask you to become smaller so they can feel bigger.” Annie thought about Brian. He had never asked her to be quieter. Never told her to dress differently, speak less, or behave like the polished women who attended his business events. If anything, he seemed to enjoy her refusal to make things easy. “He doesn’t try to change me,” Annie said. “Then perhaps you should stop trying to convince yourself that liking him is a weakness.” Annie looked away. Emily stood and picked up her empty cup. “Think about it.” “Thinking is overrated.” “You say that because you think too much.” Emily left before Annie could respond. Annie stared at the closed door. Then she looked at her phone. Annie: Are you still working? Brian’s reply arrived after a minute. Brian: No. She frowned. Annie: You’re lying. Brian: I finished early. Annie: Define early. Brian: Ten minutes ago. Annie checked the time. 9:18 p.m. She narrowed her eyes. Annie: That’s not early. That’s a reasonable hour. Brian: I’m improving. Annie: Don’t expect a medal. Brian: I was hoping for a reward. Annie’s eyebrows rose. Annie: What kind? There was a longer pause this time. Brian: You could have dinner with me tomorrow. Annie stared at the message. Then she smiled. Annie: That’s your reward? Brian: It would be enough. Her smile lingered. Annie: Fine. Brian: Fine? Annie: Don’t make me change my mind. Brian: I’ll pick you up at seven. Annie: Six-thirty. Brian: Why? Annie: Because I want dessert before dinner. Brian: That isn’t how dinner works. Annie: Then choose a better restaurant. Brian didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his message made her laugh. Brian: I’ll see what I can do, troublemaker. Annie stared at the nickname. He had never called her that before. She typed a response, erased it, then typed another. Annie: Good night, arrogant man. Brian: Good night, Annie. She placed her phone beside her pillow. This time, she didn’t regret anything. The following afternoon, Brian’s office was unusually tense. Jason noticed it the moment he entered. Brian sat behind his desk, reviewing a report. Aaron stood near the window, speaking quietly with an assistant, while two department directors waited for Brian’s decision on a delayed acquisition. The problem involved a company whose financial records had recently shown several inconsistencies. “We can proceed with the acquisition once the irregularities are explained,” one director said. Brian didn’t look up. “No.” The man hesitated. “Sir?” “We’re not proceeding.” “The irregularities may be administrative.” “May be?” Brian placed the report on the desk. “An unexplained discrepancy in a company’s financial records is not an administrative inconvenience. It’s a liability.” The director swallowed. “We can investigate after the agreement is signed.” Brian’s gaze lifted. “Do you normally sign contracts before checking whether the other party has concealed information?” “No, sir.” “Then don’t suggest it again.” The director lowered his head. “Understood.” Brian turned toward his assistant. “Suspend negotiations. Have legal review every financial document from the last eighteen months.” “Yes, sir.” The meeting ended shortly afterward. Jason waited until the directors left before taking the chair opposite Brian. “You’re in a good mood.” Brian continued reading. “Am I?” “You rejected a deal without terrifying anyone.” “I terrified them.” “Not sufficiently.” Aaron turned from the window. “You have dinner plans.” Brian looked up. “How do you know?” “Your assistant mentioned it.” Jason leaned back. “With Annie?” Brian said nothing. Jason grinned. “That’s a yes.” “Do you have work?” “I’m working.” “You’re sitting in my office.” “Strategic work.” Aaron shook his head. “He means interfering.” Jason ignored him. “So, are you going to tell her?” Brian’s expression became still. “Tell her what?” “That you’re serious.” “I’ve told her.” “Have you?” Brian set down his pen. Jason’s teasing expression softened slightly. “You’ve told her you want her. That’s not always the same as telling her what you’re willing to do.” Brian leaned back. He understood what Jason meant. Annie had been pulled into a world she had never asked for. Her return to the Samson family had already changed her life, and his presence added another layer of expectations, scrutiny, and complications. He didn’t want her to feel trapped by him. “I’m not going to pressure her,” Brian said. Jason nodded. “Good.” “I want her to choose freely.” “Better.” Brian glanced toward him. “Are you finished?” “Almost.” Jason leaned forward. “But don’t hide behind patience either. Sometimes people need clarity, not endless waiting.” Brian didn’t answer. Because he knew Jason was right. At six-thirty, Annie came downstairs wearing a dark green dress with a simple neckline and a pair of low heels. Eleanor looked up from the sitting room. “Oh, you look lovely.” Annie glanced down at herself. “I look like someone who intends to eat expensive food.” “That’s exactly what you told me you wanted.” Nicholas appeared from behind the sofa. “Is this another date?” “No.” “Dinner with Brian?” “No.” “Then why are you wearing a dress?” “Because I enjoy clothing.” Nicholas looked at Eleanor. “She’s getting worse.” “She’s always been like this,” Eleanor replied. Annie’s phone vibrated. Brian: I’m outside. She looked toward the entrance. “He’s early.” Nicholas grinned. “He’s in love.” Annie picked up a cushion. Nicholas immediately disappeared. Eleanor walked her to the door and adjusted one of her earrings. “Have fun.” “I always have fun.” “Try not to argue through the entire meal.” “No promises.” Eleanor kissed her forehead. Annie paused. The gesture still surprised her sometimes. Then she smiled and stepped outside. Brian stood beside his car in a charcoal suit, his tie slightly loosened. His eyes moved over her, and the familiar warmth appeared in his expression. “You look beautiful.” Annie stopped in front of him. “You’ve said that before.” “I meant it before too.” “Persistent.” “Honest.” She looked away, fighting a smile. Brian opened the car door. Annie paused before getting in. “Where are we going?” “You’ll see.” “That sounds suspicious.” “It’s dinner.” “You’re becoming secretive.” “I’m taking you somewhere you haven’t been.” Annie entered the car. “If you take me somewhere without dessert, I’ll consider it a personal betrayal.” “I made arrangements.” She turned toward him. “You did?” “Yes.” Annie stared at him. Brian closed her door. She sat in silence until he entered the driver’s seat. Then she said, “You’re dangerously competent.” “I’ve been told.” “By me?” “Mostly.” The restaurant was located on the top floor of a renovated historic building overlooking the river. It wasn’t as grand as the hotel where the formal lunch had been held. There were no crowds of executives or photographers waiting near the entrance. Instead, the restaurant was intimate, with warm lighting, wooden tables, and large windows reflecting the city lights. Annie looked around. “This is nice.” Brian glanced at her. “You sound surprised.” “I expected you to take me somewhere that required a membership, three references, and a blood sample.” “I considered it.” “Of course you did.” The hostess led them to a private table near the window. Annie sat and opened the menu. Her eyes immediately brightened. Brian noticed. “You like it?” “They have chocolate soufflé.” “I saw.” She looked at him. “You checked the dessert menu?” “Yes.” Annie placed a hand over her heart. “You’re making it difficult for me to maintain my standards.” “Your standards seem to involve food.” “My standards are extensive.” “Name another.” “Good manners.” “I opened your door.” “Acceptable.” “Regular meals.” “I’m still monitoring your progress.” “Honesty.” Annie’s smile faded slightly. Brian looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” He didn’t push. The waiter arrived, and they ordered. As soon as they were alone again, Annie rested her chin on her hand. “Tell me something.” “Anything.” “Why did you bring me here?” Brian looked toward the window, where the river reflected the lights from the bridges. “Because I wanted to spend time with you.” “That’s the obvious answer.” “It’s also the honest one.” Annie studied him. “You’re different when we’re alone.” “How?” “Less frightening.” “I’m glad.” “Don’t be. You’re still frightening when you’re angry.” “I’ll try to improve.” “You should. Your reputation is terrible.” Brian’s expression grew thoughtful. “Does it bother you?” “What?” “My reputation.” Annie considered the question. “I don’t know enough about it to decide.” “People say I’m ruthless.” “Are they wrong?” “No.” “People say you’re cold.” “Sometimes.” “People say you’re difficult.” “Frequently.” Annie tilted her head. “Then I suppose the reports are accurate.” Brian looked at her. “But they don’t tell the whole story,” she added. His gaze held hers. “Neither do yours,” he said. Annie looked down at the table. She didn’t know why the words affected her so deeply. Perhaps because she understood what it meant to be reduced to a single story. The lost daughter. The countryside girl. The youngest Samson. People looked at her and decided what she was before asking who she wanted to become. Brian seemed to understand that better than most. Their food arrived, and Annie began eating. For a while, they spoke about ordinary things. Her medical classes. His upcoming meetings. Sophie’s plans to drag Annie shopping on Sunday. Nicholas’s latest foolishness. The conversation flowed easily, without the need to force it. Then Brian’s phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. Annie immediately pointed her fork at him. “Don’t.” “It might be important.” “Is the building on fire?” “No.” “Is someone dying?” “No.” “Then eat.” Brian looked at the phone again before turning it face down. Annie smiled with satisfaction. “You’re learning quickly.” “I’m trying to enjoy my dinner.” “Excellent.” His gaze moved to her. “You know, you don’t have to keep checking whether I’m working.” “I’m aware.” “Then why do you?” Annie looked at her plate. “Because you forget that you’re a person.” Brian’s expression changed. She continued, “You act as if your company will collapse if you take one evening off. As if everyone will suddenly discover they can survive without you.” “Some things require my attention.” “Not everything.” “I know.” “Do you?” He was quiet. Annie lowered her fork. “You can’t keep living like your body is an inconvenience. You can’t work through every meal, ignore every symptom, and expect nothing to happen.” Brian looked at her for a long moment. Then he said, “My grandfather died while I was still young.” Annie’s expression softened. “He had been ill for a long time,” Brian continued. “He refused to slow down. He believed that if he stopped working, everything he had built would begin to fall apart.” He paused. “I watched my family struggle to manage the company while dealing with his illness. I saw how quickly people changed when they realized he was no longer in control.” Annie listened without interrupting. “After he died, I decided I would never be in that position,” Brian said. “I thought if I stayed ahead of everything, nothing could be taken from me.” Annie’s voice was gentle. “And has that worked?” Brian looked at her. “No.” The answer was so quiet that it almost disappeared beneath the restaurant’s soft music. Annie reached across the table. Her fingers settled over his. “You don’t have to control everything to keep it from disappearing.” Brian looked down at their hands. “What if I lose something anyway?” Annie’s heart tightened. “Then you deal with losing it,” she said. “You don’t destroy yourself trying to prevent every possible pain.” His fingers closed around hers. She gave his hand a small squeeze. “And if you collapse,” she added, “I’ll be very angry.” A faint smile appeared. “There you are.” “Don’t sound relieved.” “I am.” After dinner, they walked along the riverside promenade. The night air was cool, and the city lights shimmered across the water. Annie held her heels in one hand, having abandoned them several minutes earlier. Brian carried her shoes without complaint. She looked at him. “You know, this is how rumors begin.” “Which rumors?” “That the terrifying Brian Starks has been reduced to carrying a woman’s shoes.” “I’m not concerned.” “You should be. Your reputation is already struggling.” Brian glanced at her bare feet. “You’re the one who removed your shoes.” “Because they were hurting me.” “You could have told me.” “I’m telling you now.” He stopped walking. Annie turned back. “What?” Brian crouched in front of her. She blinked. “What are you doing?” “Get on.” “Absolutely not.” “Your feet hurt.” “I can walk.” “I know.” “Then why are you—” “Annie.” His voice was calm. He waited. She looked around the promenade. A few people were walking in the distance, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Annie sighed dramatically and climbed onto his back. Brian stood easily, securing his hands beneath her legs. She rested her arms around his shoulders. “You realize,” she said, “that I weigh a lot.” “I noticed.” She tightened her arms. “You’re supposed to say I weigh nothing.” “I prefer not to lie.” “I’m going to bite your ear.” “You’re welcome to try.” Annie leaned closer and gently bit the top of his ear. Brian stopped walking. She burst into laughter. “You asked for it.” “You’re impossible.” “And yet you’re carrying me.” “Unfortunately.” His voice held unmistakable amusement. Annie rested her cheek against his shoulder. The closeness felt easy. Too easy. She watched the city lights pass by while Brian carried her along the riverside, his steps steady beneath her. “Brian?” “Yes?” “Do you really mean what you said earlier?” “About what?” “Wanting me.” He didn’t answer immediately. Then he said, “Yes.” Annie looked at the side of his face. “Even when I’m difficult?” “Yes.” “When I argue with you?” “Yes.” “When I insult your clothing?” “You’ve never insulted my clothing.” “I’m saving that for later.” Brian smiled. Annie rested her cheek against him again. “Then I think,” she said quietly, “I’m beginning to want you too.” His steps slowed. She felt his hands tighten slightly around her legs. “Annie.” “Don’t make me repeat it.” “I wasn’t going to.” “Good.” He continued walking. Neither spoke for a while. But the silence was no longer uncertain. It was full of something neither of them needed to name yet. When Brian finally dropped her off, Annie stood beside the car and looked at him. “Thank you for dinner.” “You’re welcome.” “And the dessert.” “You’re especially welcome for that.” She smiled. Brian stepped closer. The distance between them narrowed. Annie’s heartbeat quickened, but she didn’t retreat. His hand rose to her cheek. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. The question surprised her. Not because she didn’t want him to. Because he asked. He could have assumed. He could have let the moment carry them forward. Instead, he waited for her answer. Annie looked into his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. Brian leaned down. The kiss was gentle. Careful. His lips touched hers with a softness that made her forget every clever response she had ever prepared. One hand rested against her cheek while the other settled at her waist. Annie gripped the front of his jacket. For a moment, the world became very small. There was only the warmth of his mouth, the quiet pressure of his hand, and the startling realization that she had wanted this. When he pulled back, he didn’t move far. Their foreheads touched. Annie’s eyes remained closed. “That,” she murmured, “was acceptable.” Brian’s thumb brushed her cheek. “Only acceptable?” “Perhaps slightly better than acceptable.” “I’ll work on improving.” She opened her eyes. “Don’t turn kissing into a business project.” “I wouldn’t dare.” Annie smiled, then leaned forward and kissed him again. This time, she chose to. When she pulled away, Brian looked at her with an expression she had never seen before. Not triumph. Not satisfaction. Something deeper. Something almost vulnerable. Annie’s smile softened. “Good night, Brian.” “Good night, Annie.” She walked toward the entrance. After a few steps, she turned around. Brian was still standing beside the car, watching her. She lifted her hand. He lifted his in return. Annie entered the house with her heart racing and her lips still warm. For the first time, she wasn’t wondering whether she could fall in love with Brian Starks. She was wondering how much longer she could pretend she hadn’t already begun.

The Things She Couldn’t Take Back