Page 159 of Only the Wicked
What began as an awkward partnership of necessity has evolved into something none of us expected. Last week, when the KOAN team helped us pack up some personal items from Sydney’s condo, there was a moment—everyone laughing as Jake attempted to bubble wrap Sydney’s collection of unusual rocks from our travels—when I realized how completely our worlds had merged. The surveillance expert and the tech founder, surrounded by people who bridge the gap between those identities.
Nana loves Sydney. She pulled me aside on our first visit and whispered in my ear that this one was the real thing. I couldn’t agree more.
I doubt Sydney remembers, but today is our one-year anniversary. The builder tried to shift our move-in date, and I about lost it on him. Sydney didn’t get why it mattered what day we moved in, but it does to me.
We’ve basically been living together, shifting from temporary rentals, hotels and condos, but we’re moving into a home that is ours on our anniversary. Sydney picked the countertops and cabinets, and I selected the entertainment system and adjusted the floor plan so we both have offices with stellar mountain views. We picked everything down to the paint colors together.
As we planned this home, the world around us continued to evolve. Senator Crawford is up for re-election next year and faces stiff competition. While he wasn’t directly involved, polls show his constituents question the accuracy of the investigation findings. It doesn’t help that his wife left him for another man, and rumors abound about his indiscretions.
Miles awaits his trial. He hired lawyers who have been using every delay tactic in the book. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps because he needed the money to fund legal costs, he sold me his shares in ARGUS. I’ve distanced myself from his trial. I don’t know the extent of the evidence the prosecution has against him, and I don’t want to know. He’s called me a few times, but I haven’t taken his calls. I don’t owe him anything.
Alex stayed and helped me through those initial first months after Miles’ arrest, but he accepted a role as CFO at a company with plans to go public, and I couldn’t be happier for him.
In my hand, I hold a key ring with keys to every lock on the property. We don’t actually need keys. The house is equipped with every security feature, including a retina scanner for front door entry. But there’s always a chance we could have a blackout and the backup generator might not work, so we also have keys. Plus, I like the symbolism.
It’s funny. I spent seven years in a relationship and never felt ready for marriage. But I’m ready now. With every fiber of my being, I’m ready.
But I’m not sure Syd is. She’s younger, and I absolutely get it.
I debated proposing today—our one-year anniversary—but held off. Before me, her relationships never lasted a year. It’s something that shouldn’t matter, but it’s been in the back of her mind. She mentioned it when I casually mentioned we’d made it nine months. I’ve made comments about us getting married, of course. And she’s responded with jokes. Her go to. She’ll say things like, “Are you sure about that, Rhodes?” or “Let’s break my record first.” Well, now we’ve broken her record.
I already have the ring. Actually, I have two. My mom’s ring and another ring I saw that I thought looked like Sydney. The golden topaz in the center is associated with Apollo, and the diamonds around it and the band, if one believes the Romans, are gifts from the gods and can be used as protection in battle. My mother’s is a classic set solitaire, elegant and also perfect for Syd.
Sydney appears in the doorway, her raven locks up in a high ponytail, shorts that are short enough I’m sure the movers are appreciative, and a cotton tank that flatters her svelte shoulders and curves.
“There you are. Do you want to come look where they put the sofa? I know you were specific about the distance from the television. It looks fine to me but…while we have them here…” Her gaze drops to my hand. “Why do you have keys? I thought that was the point of the retinal scan.”
“Well, yes, but still, just in case?—”
“If the world as we know it ceases, we’ll have keys.” She’s mocking me. She does that.
I step up to her and place the keys in her palm.
“These are the keys to everything. To this house, to my place in Colorado, to the ARGUS office, to my grandmother’s home in Charlotte, to everything.” I wiggle the one bulky key to the car, which we don’t need because our phones unlock my car. “The Rivian. Everything. Right here.”
“Well…thank you. You have a copy of the key to my condo in D.C. You should add it. That way, we’ll have all the keys in one place, and we can put them in the junk drawer in the kitchen.”
“We have a junk drawer already?”
“Everyone has a junk drawer, Rhodes. Everyone.”
“I see.”
She steps away but then stops, eyeing me.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Do you know what today is?”
“Move in day?”
“It’s our anniversary.”
Her golden-brown eyes widen with awareness. “That’s why it was so important we move in today.” She points at the key ring in my hand. “And the keys. Look at you, so romantic.”
“Well, a year ago today a woman pretended she was injured, just to get to know me. That’s pretty romantic, too, don’t you think?” She grins, but I grow serious. “I want lots and lots of anniversaries with you, Syd.”
She loops her arms around my shoulders, clasping her hands behind my neck.
