Rain had been threatening the sky all day, and by the time the workday ended, it finally delivered.
Emily stood beneath the overhang just outside the Walker & Co. building, holding her coat tightly around her and watching as thick sheets of water painted the sidewalks in silver.
Of course, the buses were delayed.
And the rideshare apps weren't finding anything nearby.
She stared at her phone screen, the little loading circle spinning like it had no intention of ever helping her.
Her umbrella was back at home.
Her backup hoodie was soaked through in her tote bag.
And she had promised Grandma Irene she'd be at the hospital by seven.
"Perfect," she muttered, hugging herself tighter and stepping just out of the wind's reach.
That's when she saw the black car.
It was sleek and silent as it pulled up to the curb — not one of those anonymous rideshare sedans, but something expensive and sharply designed. A Bentley, maybe. Or something even higher end she couldn't identify. She didn't pay attention to cars.
But she knew the man who stepped out of it.
Damian.
He was holding an umbrella now, dressed in his charcoal suit, tie loosened just slightly, like the end of the day had finally caught up to him. His expression was unreadable, as usual — but something in his eyes was softer than usual.
"Ms. Johnson," he said, his voice steady, calm, and low over the rain. "Need a ride?"
She blinked. "No, I'm—no, it's okay. Thank you."
His brow rose ever so slightly. "You're waiting for the rain to stop?"
"I'm waiting for a bus."
He looked down the street — completely empty of anything even resembling public transit — then back at her. "I'd rather not leave you standing in this weather."
"I don't want to be a burden."
"You wouldn't be."
The words were so simple. So quiet. And yet, they undid something in her.
Still, she hesitated. "I'm headed to the hospital. It's out of the way."
"Not a problem."
"I—" she stopped. Looked at the rain. Then at him.
There was no impatience in his face. Just an open door, a calm presence, and an umbrella between them.
"Okay," she said finally, voice barely above the sound of the rain. "Thank you."
He nodded once and stepped aside, holding the umbrella higher to shield her as she slid into the back seat.
The interior was warm, silent, and smelled faintly of leather and something expensive she couldn't name.
She sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, very aware of the man now sitting beside her.
The door shut with a soft click.
The driver glanced at them through the rearview mirror. "Where to, sir?"
Damian's voice was smooth. "St. Vincent's Hospital."
The driver nodded and pulled away.
And then… silence.
The kind of silence that pressed in around them, thick and awkward and full of things neither of them seemed ready to say.
Emily watched raindrops chase each other across the window, her heart thudding too loudly in the quiet.
He hadn't said anything since they got in.
She snuck a glance his way. He was looking out the opposite window, his jaw tense, hands folded neatly in his lap. His profile was sharp against the low city lights.
He didn't look uncomfortable.
He didn't look relaxed, either.
She shifted slightly, her coat still damp against her back.
"Thank you," she said, finally breaking the silence. "For the ride. And for… before. At the hospital. I don't think I ever really said it properly."
"You don't have to," he said, turning to look at her now. His eyes were calm. Focused. "It wasn't a favor."
She swallowed, unsure what to say to that.
Then his gaze lingered just a moment longer than she expected — not inappropriate. Not intense. Just… searching.
"You always try to do everything alone," he said softly.
She blinked. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," he said. "But it's a lonely way to live."
The words caught her off guard. Not because they were cruel — but because they were true.
She didn't know what to say to that, either.
So she nodded, eyes back on the window.
They didn't speak again until they pulled up to the hospital curb. The driver opened the door, and Damian stepped out first, offering the umbrella once more as the rain still fell in quiet sheets.
Emily accepted it.
Before she could turn toward the building, he said, "I'll send a car to pick you up later, if you'd like."
She hesitated. "You really don't have to—"
"I know," he said.
She looked up at him — rain catching in her lashes, her heart still not slowing down.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Thank you."
He nodded once, then turned and stepped back into the car.
And just like that, he was gone.
But the warmth he left in his place lingered longer than the rain on her coat.