One month after Silas' funeral, the office of Bunch & Plimpton & Associates is humming. Anticipation is in the air. Tomorrow is the day. The big day. Tomorrow they open their doors to the public for the very first time.
They've all started dressing for business: Nathaniel in his suits, probably too expensive for their current level of prestige, Rebecca in a tailored dress from her Whitefeather days, and Paula in a pantsuit she found on sale at T.J. Maxx.
Rebecca did grant herself two weeks off from preparations to let herself grieve. Paula ran the office with George as her lackey. Paula made sure all their new systems were up and running, all the office furniture was delivered, and even started tapping her contacts for new business leads.
While Rebecca was out of commission, Paula put finishing touches on the office decor to make the space feel more personal. Unlike Nathaniel, Paula is accustomed to operating on a meager budget and scoured local discount retailers to give the place some character. She invests in some greenery – hardy houseplants that Rebecca won't be able to kill – and a few homey rugs and lamps. In her own office she breaks out both her old pink knicknacks from when she first started at Whitefeather as well as her newer additions, like her framed photos of female Supreme Court justices and, of course, her Office Bitch mug.
When Rebecca returns, Paula is brimming with excitement. Rebecca is stunned silent for a few moments when she first sees the office makeover. For the first time, it all seems real. She and Nathaniel are starting a business, one that will be wildly successful if Paula has anything to do with it.
"Wow," she says, grinning at Paula, "this looks like a real working office. I'm . . . I'm speechless."
"And, the pièce de résistance," Paula says, gently pulling Rebecca by the arm toward her office.
On the wall of Rebecca's office is her West Covina mural, which had been tucked away in storage since she and Nathaniel moved in together.
"Oh my god," Rebecca cries, cupping her face with both her hands. "I love it. It's perfect."
"It's us," Paula says. "I want this place to feel more like us. Like all of us."
Rebecca walks behind her desk and sits in the office chair. She swivels around while taking in all the corners of her office. On the desktop Paula has placed two framed photos. One is a selfie of her and Nathaniel both holding ice cream cones and grinning. No doubt Nathaniel supplied the photo. And in front of the photo of Nathaniel, partially obscuring it and much more prominently displayed in a larger glittery frame, is one of she and Paula in the early days of their friendship sitting at Cup of Boba.
As Rebecca considers the placement of the two photos, Paula explains, "Priorities," with a shrug and they both laugh.
"Home," Rebecca muses as she gazes around the office. "It feels like home now."
Paula nods with tears in her eyes. "Great to have you back, cookie."
"Thank you," Rebecca says, rising from her chair. "Thank you for helping so much around here. It looks amazing." She embraces Paula, both of them choking up.
After she releases Paula's shoulders, Rebecca steps out of her office and into the common area. She spots Nathaniel and George conferring at George's desk.
"Hey guys, can you come here for a second? I want to have a little team huddle."
Nathaniel, George, and Paula all gather around Rebecca.
Rebecca takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning around the office then landing on the faces of her partner and the two people who trust them enough with their livelihoods.
She swallows. "I know all of this hasn't been easy. Quitting our jobs and taking this risk. It's scary. I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about tomorrow and then all the days after that. I want to thank all of you for all the hard work you've put into this. And thank you for letting me take the time off I needed. I promise I will make it up to you. I am going to work my ass off for you."
Nathaniel smiles with pride at her. What she really means is that she will work her ass off for him. For them. Of the four of them, he has suffered the most, lost the most, in this battle to move forward.
Addressing each of them one-by-one, she begins with Nathaniel. "Nathaniel, I'm sorry about your dad. I think I know how difficult this all was for you and how tough this process has been."
Nathaniel's eyes drop to the floor and he nods slowly.
"Paula, my best friend in the whole world, thank you for stepping in and whipping this place into shape and taking care of things in this home stretch."
"I would do it again in a heartbeat," Paula says with a smile.
"And George . . . could you get me a cup of coffee?"
George looks around the group, each of them staring at him to do as he's told. Nathaniel cocks his head toward the office kitchen and George quickly slinks away.
At the end of the day, after Paula and George go home on the final day before the business opens, Rebecca lingers in the entryway, staring at the framed photo of her and Nathaniel on the wall. It was taken the day the realtor handed them the keys to the office. Nathaniel comes up behind her and lays his hands on her shoulders.
Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he jokes, "We were so young then."
She laughs. "Ah yes. These past six months were practically a lifetime," she says wistfully.
He wraps his arms around her middle and she leans back against his chest.
"I was thinking," she says, rubbing his arm around her waist, "that we should take a new photo with all four of us. The whole team."
He nods, his chin grazing her head. "I like that idea."
Releasing her waist, he says, "Let's pack it in for the night."
Fifteen minutes later they meet at the elevator, Nathaniel's briefcase slung over his shoulder like the old days. There's an aura of excitement around him; they've been keyed up all day in preparation for the opening. Nathaniel checks his watch and sends a quick text before pressing the button to call the elevator.
"Got a hot date?" she teases, poking him with her elbow.
"Not tonight. But I have an important engagement tomorrow with a stunning brunette," he says with a grin.
The doors ding and they both enter, shy smiles on their faces. Every time they're alone in an elevator, especially at the office, it's hard not to remember that day when they first kissed.
The memory is bittersweet. While the kiss was explosive, detonating a bomb of their sexual tension, her motivations were dubious at best. She was engaged to Josh and insecure about their connection. Their first kiss was an act of infidelity on her part, which always casts the moment in a darker light. Nathaniel's motives were no better, of course, thinking only of the conquest of a quirky girl who fascinated his waking hours and invaded his dreams.
Nathaniel checks his watch again as the doors close. He licks his lips and readjust his bag, his nervous energy rolling off of him.
As the elevator passes between the second and first floor, suddenly the elevator lurches. Rebecca gasps and reaches for the wall to steady herself.
"Wha –?"
The elevator comes to a standstill.
"Oh no," she says, her eyes going wide. She lets out a bitter laugh and says, "Unbelievable. This can't be happening. Not today. Not the day before –"
She stops short when she realizes Nathaniel is smiling. Smirking, to be more exact.
"Wait," she says, crossing her arms, "why are you –"
He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
Tapping her lips with her fingertip she says, "You did this somehow, didn't you? How? Why? What's your game, Plimpton?"
He shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about. Seems like the elevator is stuck. Must be a coincidence."
"Then why aren't you pressing the emergency button? Or calling someone? Or seem the least bit alarmed? What is this?"
He leans against the wall of the elevator, feigning casualness. "I think we just have to wait for it to get fixed. Seems like we may be stuck here together for a while."
"Is that right?"
"What should we do to pass the time?"
"Gee, I don't know, Nathaniel. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"We should have sex," he states, a teasing twinkle in his eye.
She guffaws, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," he says, smiling ear-to-ear. "Hear me out."
"Let's hear the pitch."
"I think it goes something like this," he says, resting his hands behind him on the railing. "Hi, I'm Nathaniel. I am attracted to you for some reason I can't pinpoint and clearly you must be attracted to me. Therefore, if we have sex, I'll get it out of my system and I can go on to the next conquest and move on with my life."
"Interesting proposition."
"Rebuttal?"
"Hi, I'm Rebecca. I'm in a relationship hurtling at warp speed toward destruction. Instead of doing the hard work of examining why I'm trying to recapture a feeling from when I was sixteen years old, I will kiss you and then double down on that relationship to my own detriment. I do want to have sex with you, but that fact terrifies me and makes me insecure about said relationship."
"I'm Nathaniel. I didn't actually have sex with someone this morning – that was a lie – and the condom I'll offer you expired two months ago."
"I'm Rebecca. I had a sex dream about you last night and it gives me more goosebumps than my fiance does when we're actually having sex. Mazel."
Nathaniel laughs quietly, then his expression gets more serious. "I'm Nathaniel. I try to keep an iron-grip of control on every aspect of my life, down to the calorie. I don't realize until much later that my father was really the one in control the entire time."
More contemplative, she responds, "I'm Rebecca. When things get tough, I try to disappear. In something or someone else."
"Well, nice to meet you, Rebecca" he says softly.
"Likewise," she says, doing a little courtesy.
"Want to sit?" he says, gesturing to the floor of the elevator.
She plays along and sits on the floor, strategically fanning out her dress so it covers her thighs.
"I thought," he says, positioning himself cross-legged next to her, "we could take a beat. Before tomorrow. We've been so distracted and busy since . . . Santa Fe. We haven't had a chance to just talk."
At the mention of Santa Fe – the funeral – she distracts herself by picking at the hem of her dress.
"I'm nervous about tomorrow too, you know," he offers.
"Really?" she asks, meeting his eyes. "You seem so confident."
"I wanted to have enough confidence for the both of us. I know all of this has been difficult."
"A lot for you too. With your dad."
He nods. "This is the first time I've done something big that wasn't completely pre-planned by my father."
"I think we're going to make good partners."
"Me too."
"Plus, we have Paula, so –"
"Exactly," he agrees, laughing.
Glancing up at the elevator buttons, Rebecca asks, "How long do we have this thing, exactly?"
"As long as you want."
Furrowing her brow, she asks incredulously, "How?"
"Someone owed me a favor. For not helping us the last time."
"Oh my god," she laughs. "George?! Still I ask how?"
"All you need to know is we have however much time we want."
She scoots closer and reaches out to play with the end of his tie. "So . . . do you have a condom in your wallet now? Preferably one that's not expired?"
He leans toward her and her eyes track the movement. Low and husky he says, "Funny you should ask. I do. What do you say, Gryffindor? Can I slither in?"
Her lips quirk up at his joke. Then her eyes flutter and she closes more of the gap between them until their noses are almost brushing. She whispers against his lips, "Stop talking dirty."
With an exhale of a laugh, he tips forward, gently pressing his lips to hers. She sighs and tugs his tie to pull him close. He gingerly cups her jaw, sliding his fingers into her hair.
They kiss, slow and soft. Nothing like the way he would have kissed her then. Then they were both on fire, their chemistry crackling with anticipation. If they had given in to their baser urges, had sex right there in the Whitefeather and elevator, he's not sure they would be here now, a couple, partners about to open their own business.
Now she's so much more to him than an ephemeral conquest.
As always, she gets antsy quickly. She escalates. Soon she's devouring his mouth, clawing at his tie, and climbing on top of him. Propriety out the window, she straddles his lap and he awkwardly straightens out his legs to receive her.
His hands settle at her hips and he pushes her dress so it bunches up around her upper thighs, grabbing handfuls of scratchy material. He maneuvers his hands under her dress so he's touching the bare skin of her thighs and she moans into his mouth at the contact. She grabs his face with both hands, holding him in place and the force of her kiss sends him tilting backward until the back of his head cracks against the elevator railing.
She breaks the kiss as soon as she hears the sound.
"Ow."
"I'm sorry! Are you OK?"
She gingerly rubs the back of his head where it made contact with the railing.
"Yeah," he says, "I'm fine." He resets his posture, scooting forward so he doesn't hurt himself again.
Making little circles at the base of his neck with her fingertips, her eyes sweep slowly over his face. "I love you," she murmurs.
"Miss Bunch," he replies sternly, "that is highly inappropriate."
"And sex isn't?"
"Oh no, that's fine. I can't let you know that I have human feelings yet."
"Maybe let's drop the act," she suggests.
Nathaniel's eyebrow arches, a hint of smugness in his expression. Of course this is what he wanted all along. She played right into his setup. But he doesn't gloat or turn the situation into a gotcha moment.
He simply says, "Well, in that case, I love you too, sunshine."
It's not long after that they're making love right on the dirty floor of the elevator. Despite the fact that her knees are developing a severe case of rug burn and his head is still bumping up against the elevator railing, both of them feel more relaxed and free than they've felt in a while. For the first time since Santa Fe she gets out of her head, let's herself just feel as he fills her up, dancing the dance they've made routine over the past year or so.
It's slow and deliberate, much different than how it would have gone those years ago. It would have been frantic, she imagines. Frantic and passionate, the instant gratification they both wanted so badly. The dream about him created an itch she wanted scratched. She would have scratched him into oblivion in that tiny box of an elevator if she didn't have the weight of an engagement on her shoulders.
Then, he was still practically a stranger. One glance of him sitting at the end of the conference room table the day they met was enough time for her to pass judgment on him, to think she had him pegged. An asshole boss there to make a quick buck and move on to the next struggling firm. He represented everything she railed against, everything she moved away from New York City to get away from.
Now, he's so much more than that. Yes, in some ways her initial judgment proved to be true. He's as disciplined and ambitious and cunning as the Slytherin she always knew he was. But he's also sensitive, passionate, and devoted. He's complicated. Every day they learn more about each other. She wonders what else she has yet to discover, what other doors she has to unlock.
As she rides him, she lets out a contented sigh and rubs her nose at his temple.
"What is it?" he whispers, his voice gravelly and thick.
"For the first time in a month I feel like I can breathe," she says, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders until their chests are flush and they're breathing together.
He spreads his fingers wide over her back and rubs up and down, like he wants to envelope her entire body in his, cradle her, protect her, shield her from harm.
After they've finished and collapsed into each other in a boneless heap of entwined limbs, she's only still for a few moments before her mind starts to wander. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she says, "If there were an alternate universe where we had sex in the elevator, I don't think we would be sitting here right now." She's picking up a conversation she started with herself months ago, after the first time they tried to role play.
He chuckles at her non-sequitur and it rumbles in his chest so she can feel each vibration. It's a knowing laugh, that he remembers the conversation. She's surprised she even remembers herself when she spent most of the night with her head in the toilet.
"Think about it," she says, untangling herself from his lap. With an oomph sound she sits behind him. His dress shirt is damp with sweat, his tie askew, his hair tousled. "If we would have slept together, I probably wouldn't have forced the wedding up with Josh –"
"No, no, no," Nathaniel interrupts, laughing as he cleans up the aftermath of their encounter. "If anything, you doubled down on the wedding after we kissed. If we had had sex, you may have tried to move it up to the next day."
She chuckles at that, shaking her head at herself. "You're probably right."
She plays with the hem of her dress, lost in thought. "Sometimes I like to believe that things happen for a reason. That there's always a path we're meant to find. Some future that we're destined for. And sometimes I like to think the opposite – that our choices do matter and every choice I've made has led to this very moment. Of the two of us, opening the firm together, having sex in this elevator."
All the while she muses on these thoughts aloud, Nathaniel simply listens, caught up in the glowing aftermath of sex, his brain swimming in pleasurable, sating chemicals. She knows for a fact he doesn't believe in fate – not in the way she's describing. Not officially, at least.
"I think," he says, straightening the knot of his tie, "that there are outcomes more statistically likely, based on factors like genetics, upbringing –"
Rebecca makes a snoring noise.
"However," he says, lifting a pointer finger. She stops. "I've been questioning a lot of things lately. Who knows? Maybe some synchronicity brought us together."
To her, nothing else can explain the crackling chemistry that hums between them. It must be some type of magic.
"And I think . . ." he starts but trails off. His expression is pensive, soft, but serious. Another thought is knocking around his head, screaming to be said aloud.
"What?" she asks, leaning toward him, her eyes encouraging him to go on.
He brushes his fingertips over her hand and she turns over her palm, threading their fingers together.
"I think I want to be with you the rest of my life."
His words steal her breath away. Her eyes widen; she stifles a gasp. It's not that she's surprised. Somehow she's intuited this, felt it from him even though he's never articulated it. Saying it aloud is a promise. Saying it aloud unlocks the words from their prison. In this moment she holds his heart in her hands. She won't let go.
"Me too," softly.
His whole body reacts, his shoulders relaxing and a smile taking shape.
"Yeah?" he exhales.
She can't resist. "Are you really sure you want to be shackled to someone for eternity?"
He smirks. "I think I do."
Author's Note: Readers, this is the last chapter of the Rebecca & Nathaniel Give Love a Chance universe. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I have. I can't believe I started this series three years ago! This is the series that made me fall in love with writing multi-chapter works and I will forever be grateful for that. I'll never forget the day when I outlined the first story in the series in an afternoon on a park bench. I felt inspired in a way I hadn't ever before. I love doing this and I can only hope there are people who enjoy reading it.