Chapter 142: Brother’s Approval
"Danny," said Sean.
"Yeah."
"Order another one," said Sean.
Danny stared at him for a moment. Then he flagged the waiter.
They stayed for another hour after the second steak arrived. The conversation drifted into easier territory. Danny’s job situation, his manager, a coworker who microwaved fish every single Tuesday without variation or remorse, a presentation last month that had gone badly in a way he was still processing through storytelling.
Sean listened and laughed at the fish story because the fish story was genuinely funny the way Danny told it, and the evening had the quality of something that had started formal and settled into something real.
When the bill came Sean put his card down without looking at it. Danny glanced at the amount and said nothing, the specific silence of someone doing math and arriving somewhere unexpected.
[340 dollars spent]
[Balance: $4,289,617]
[680 dollars received]
[New Balance: $4,290,297]
Sean put his card away and stood.
"Lets go back home , i will drop you off at your place " Said Sean
"Thanks alot , i appreciate " Said Danny
James was at the curb. Danny got in for the ride back and they sat in the comfortable quiet of the drive.
James pulled up to Danny’s building. He got out and paused at the open window.
"She laughs more," said Danny. "Since you showed up. In case I didn’t say it clearly enough." He held Sean’s gaze for a moment. "Don’t make her stop."
"I won’t," said Sean.
Danny nodded. Went inside.
The Rolls Royce pulled back into the evening traffic and James drove toward the building without being told because James always knew where they were going now.
His phone buzzed.
Makima Sent a text message
’Dinner is almost ready. Where are you.’
’Five minutes,’ he typed back.
’I made actual food,’ she said. ’Not impressive packaging around takeout.’
’Looking forward to it,’ said Sean.
’You should be,’ said Makima. ’It’s very good.’
’How do you know it’s very good,’ said Sean. ’You haven’t served it yet’.
’I made it,’ said Makima. ’That’s how I know.’
Sean smiled at his phone as James pulled up to the building.
He went upstairs.
—---------
Makima opened the door before Sean’s hands had reached her door knob.
She looked at him in the doorway. Then past him briefly at the empty hallway.
"You actually had dinner with Danny," she said.
"I told you I was with Danny," said Sean.
"I know," said Makima. "I just expected you to come back looking more tired." She stepped back to let him in. "He usually exhausts people."
"He was thorough," said Sean. "Not exhausting."
Makima looked at him for a moment with the specific expression of someone trying to read something without asking directly. Then she turned toward the kitchen. "Sit down. Everything is ready."
The apartment smelled incredible. Something slow-cooked, rich and warm, the specific smell of food that had been given proper time and attention rather than assembled quickly between building tasks. The table was already set, two places, candles lit, a bottle of wine open and breathing on the counter.
Sean sat down.
Makima brought the food over, two plates, and set one in front of him and one at her own place and sat down across the table with the expression of someone who had made something they were quietly confident about.
Sean looked at the plate. Chicken, braised, with roasted vegetables and something that smelled like it had been deglazing with wine for considerably longer than the basic version required.
"You made this," he said.
"I told you I would make actual food," said Makima.
"This is better than actual food," said Sean. "This is deliberate food."
Something in her expression warmed. "Eat it before it gets cold."
He ate. It was exactly as good as it smelled. He looked up at her after the first bite and she was watching him with the expression of someone who knew it was good and was still waiting to hear it confirmed, which was charming in a way she probably didn’t intend to be visible.
"This is incredible," said Sean.
"I know," said Makima. Completely composed. "I told you it would be."
"You told me it was very good," said Sean.
"Very good was the conservative estimate," said Makima. "I was managing expectations."
"So," she said, keeping her tone casual, "how did the talk go?"
"Interesting," said Sean.
She looked at him. "Interesting how."
"He approved of our relationship," said Sean. "With you specifically. He updated the verdict from conditional to favorable."
Makima set her fork down.
She looked at Sean for a moment, something moving through her expression that she wasn’t managing quickly enough to hide. Her eyes went slightly bright at the edges.
"He approved," she said quietly.
"Yeah" said Sean with a smile shown on his face.
Makima said nothing for a moment. She looked at her plate and then at the candle between them and then at the window, the specific series of glances of someone who needed a second before they could trust their face.
"He texted me twenty minutes ago," she said finally.
"What did he say," said Sean.
"He said, and I’m quoting directly, he’s good, stop overthinking it." She looked at her plate. "That’s the highest possible endorsement in Danny’s language. He once told me a restaurant was good and I later found out he goes there three times a week."
"Good is significant," said Sean.
"Good is enormous," said Makima.
She was quiet for another moment. Then she pressed her lips together and looked up at Sean and her expression had the specific quality of someone who had been carrying something alone for a long time and had just been told they didn’t have to anymore.
"He never approved of anyone," she said. "Not once. In my entire life." She paused.
Makima stood up.
She crossed the small space between them and sat in the chair beside him instead of across from him and put both her hands on his face the way she did when she needed to look at him directly and couldn’t do it from a distance.