A Request and a Desire

It had been a long day. A long, weird day.

Not because of her caseload, either. Jessica could handle her caseload. Difficult clients, recalcitrant opposing counsel, arguments over disclosure, affidavits that failed to establish what their authors seemed to think they established. Those were familiar problems, with familiar solutions. Even a last-minute application or an opposing lawyer who seemed to regard every minor procedural dispute as a declaration of war could be dealt with through a judicious combination of preparation, persistence, and the occasional exquisitely worded letter.

No, what had exhausted Jessica was the mental load. The accumulation of thoughts and questions that had followed her through the afternoon, demanding attention even when she had more pressing things to do. By the time she shut down her computer, she had considered at least six different scenarios, discarded three of them, and come back to the same question often enough that she was beginning to resent it.

Roy wasn't the problem.

Roy was wonderful.

Before leaving the office that afternoon, Jessica had received a text from him saying that he was accepting her offer to move in. He hoped the others still felt the same way, he explained, and wanted to know whether it would be all right if he started bringing some of his things over that evening. Was there anything he could do to make the transition easier?

She'd read the message twice, smiling at her phone like some ridiculous teenager who'd just received a declaration of undying affection.

It was sweet, really. Roy never seemed to think exclusively about himself. Even while dealing with whatever messes he had to deal with at work, he was worrying about how his decisions affected everyone around him. He'd accepted the opportunity to live with the woman he loved, and his first instinct had been to make sure the other women were comfortable with the arrangement, too. Then he'd offered to help.

Some men would have been perfectly happy to announce their decision and leave everyone else to accommodate them. Roy wanted to know what he could do to make things easier. That was Roy, though. Earnest, considerate, kind. The sort of man who could make a woman feel cherished without seeming to realize that was what he was doing. Jessica loved him so much. More every day, it seemed, and the unsettling thing was how effortlessly he managed to give her new reasons.

Her daughter wasn't the problem, either.

Ava had taken the news of the impending household expansion remarkably well. In fact, Jessica suspected she'd been pleased. That was a considerable relief, given how much she'd worried about whether her daughter would be comfortable sharing her home with Roy and his girlfriends. The practical details still needed sorting out, of course, but Ava seemed more interested in the possibilities than the inconveniences.

Jessica's phone had been buzzing all afternoon.

And, most frequently of all, questions about Roy himself. What was he like when they were alone? What did he enjoy? What kind of things did he do with each of his girlfriends? Did he have any strange habits? Was he as sweet at home as he was when he was out with people?

Jessica had answered what she could, occasionally laughing at the increasingly specific questions. Some of them were things she hadn't considered herself. Others had elicited a surprisingly detailed response, because once she started talking about Roy, it was difficult to stop.

The change in Ava was gratifying. Only a few days earlier, when mother and daughter had discussed Roy, Ava had seemed to think Jessica could have done better. She hadn't understood, then, that there wasn't a man on the planet Jessica would rather have. Ava hadn't been particularly impressed by Roy's appearance or the idea of him as Jessica's boyfriend, and she'd seemed rather too certain that her mother was settling.

Now, though, something had shifted. Ava was curious, engaged, and apparently eager to understand the man who mattered so much to her mother.

Jessica couldn't have asked for a better development. The last thing she wanted was for her relationship with Roy to become a source of tension between them. Watching Ava take a genuine interest in him made Jessica feel as though one more obstacle had quietly dissolved.

So no, it wasn't Roy. And it wasn't Ava.

Which left Agnes.

Jessica still hadn't entirely decided what to make of their conversation. The receptionist had approached her earlier that day with a question that had initially seemed almost absurd. Agnes, of all people, wanted to know whether there was any chance Roy might be interested in dating her.

On reflection, though, perhaps it wasn't so absurd.

Agnes was one of the most beautiful women Jessica had ever met. Tall, blonde, impeccably put together, with the sort of striking features that seemed designed to draw the eye even when she wasn't trying to attract attention. Living in the same building as Roy, close enough to cross paths with him regularly, Agnes would have had ample opportunity to develop an infatuation. Jessica could hardly blame her for it. How could anyone spend much time around Roy and not develop an attachment of some kind?

The question was whether Agnes had the slightest chance of becoming something more than another admirer.

Jessica knew very little about her receptionist outside the office. Agnes could be aloof, even standoffish, and their conversations had generally been polite without being particularly personal. She was beautiful, clearly intelligent, and capable at her job, but Jessica couldn't honestly claim to know her well enough to predict what she would be like in a relationship.

Still, there was one thing Jessica had learned that afternoon.

Agnes had excellent taste in men.

The thought brought an amused smile to her face as she eased a file into her briefcase. Then the smile faded a little as she recalled the more uncomfortable part of their discussion.

Agnes hadn't simply confessed to having feelings for Roy. She'd also admitted, in a halting and distinctly uncharacteristic fashion, that she'd been a pretty terrible person in the past. She hadn't elaborated much. There had been references to things she'd said, attitudes she'd held, people she'd treated badly. Nothing concrete enough for Jessica to assess the full extent of it, and certainly nothing that amounted to a comprehensive confession.

But regret had been there. Jessica had recognized it in the way Agnes struggled to find the words, as if even acknowledging the existence of those past actions was unpleasant. There was a difference between someone regretting that their behaviour had consequences and someone regretting the behaviour itself. Agnes had struck Jessica as the latter.

She'd seemed ashamed. More importantly, she seemed determined not to remain the person she'd been.

That was something, even if it wasn't everything.

Jessica had considered pressing her for details. Old habits die hard, and a lawyer who hears a partial admission naturally wants to establish the particulars before drawing conclusions. What had Agnes done? To whom? How serious had it been? Had she made amends, or was she merely uncomfortable with the memory of herself?

Yet this wasn't an examination for discovery. Agnes hadn't come to Jessica for legal advice, and Jessica wasn't entitled to every detail of her past simply because she'd offered a glimpse of it. The remorse had seemed genuine, and there was room to allow someone to change without demanding that they provide a complete accounting before being granted the possibility of a better future.

Besides, whatever mistakes Agnes had made, she'd shown Jessica respect in the present.

That counted for something.

Agnes could have tried to engineer an encounter with Roy. She could have waited until he was alone in the hallway, invited him into her apartment, and made her intentions unmistakable. A woman as beautiful as Agnes would have had an excellent chance of getting his attention, especially if she chose to be direct about what she wanted.

Jessica wasn't naïve enough to believe that attraction was always easy to resist. She'd seen what happened when people convinced themselves that a moment of temptation excused whatever came afterward. She'd lived through the consequences of someone else's infidelity, and she had no intention of ever putting herself through that again.

But Agnes hadn't tried to steal Roy away. In fact, as far as Jessica could tell, Agnes had never laid a single finger on Roy.

She'd asked.

That distinction mattered to Jessica. A great deal.

Not that Agnes didn't want Roy to lay his fingers all over her, Jessica suspected. There had been enough nervous glances and carefully phrased questions to make her interest perfectly clear. But instead of sneaking around or trying to manufacture an opportunity, Agnes had approached Jessica openly and asked whether there might be a place for her in Roy's life.

There was something rather admirable about that.

Jessica knew what it was like to be betrayed. Her marriage to Charles had ended in the wreckage of infidelity and dishonesty, leaving her to raise Ava on her own while trying to rebuild a life that had suddenly become unrecognizable. The experience had cured her of any remaining romantic illusions about men who wanted the benefits of a relationship without accepting its obligations. For years, she'd been perfectly content to keep men at a comfortable distance.

Then Roy had come along.

Roy, who wouldn't cheat on her. Roy, who wouldn't cheat on Elaine, Michelle, or Zara, either. He was devoted to the people he loved, attentive to their needs, and remarkably good at making each woman feel that she mattered. His affection wasn't a limited resource that had to be divided into smaller portions whenever he cared about someone new. He gave it freely, sincerely, and without making anyone feel diminished by the existence of someone else.

At least, that was how Jessica understood him. And everything she'd experienced with Roy had reinforced the belief. So when Agnes asked what it would take for Roy to consider her as a romantic partner, Jessica had found the question easier to contemplate than she might once have imagined.

Nobody was sneaking around. Nobody was lying to a spouse or betraying a promise. Two adults were having an honest conversation about a man they both cared for.

What was there to object to?

The question lingered as Jessica made her way through the office, collected her coat, and checked that she'd taken everything she needed. Outside, the afternoon had settled into that familiar grey-gold light of an autumn day, the sun low enough to reflect in the office windows but still bright enough to make her squint as she crossed the parking lot.

Traffic was heavy on the way home, giving her far too much time to think.

Roy. Her boyfriend. The man she thought of whenever she tried to put a meaningful definition to the word love. He was a fantastic partner, and she had every reason to believe his other girlfriends would say the same. The thought was so obvious that it barely seemed worth considering.

Then another thought followed it.

Perhaps she should ask them.

Not whether Roy was a good boyfriend. Jessica didn't need to conduct an informal survey to establish that. Rather, she could ask how they felt about Agnes joining them. Would another relationship upset the balance they'd been working towards? Would Agnes fit in? Would the household become too complicated, too crowded, too difficult to manage?

Jessica considered each question as the cars crept forward by a few metres at a time.

The practical concerns were real enough. There were only so many bedrooms in the house, only so much time in an evening, only so many hours in a day. Introducing another person would mean figuring out how everyone fit together, what boundaries they needed, how to ensure that nobody felt neglected or pushed aside. More people meant more personalities, more expectations, and more potential for disagreement.

But none of those problems seemed insurmountable.

Roy had an extraordinary capacity for making people feel valued. He listened. He remembered things. He took other people's feelings seriously, even when those feelings complicated his own life. If there was anyone capable of maintaining a relationship with several women without leaving them feeling as though they were competing for scraps of affection, it was Roy.

Besides, another girlfriend didn't have to mean less love for the women who were already there.

Jessica was entirely comfortable with that proposition. As long as Roy loved her, and she loved him, what was the problem?

The car ahead advanced. Jessica followed, leaving a little more space than necessary because the driver seemed intent on alternating between touching the accelerator and changing their mind.

A small laugh escaped her.

Of course Roy should have a say in it.

For a moment, she'd been thinking about Agnes's interest as though the decision belonged exclusively to the existing girlfriends, with Roy's preferences merely one consideration among many. That was absurd. Roy was the person who would have to date Agnes, after all. If he wasn't attracted to her, if he didn't enjoy her company, or if he simply didn't want another relationship, then that was the end of it. No amount of enthusiasm from the rest of them could make it fair to pressure him into a commitment he didn't want. Jessica would never tolerate being treated that way herself. A relationship had to be something people chose, not an arrangement imposed on them by someone else's expectations.

She would have to talk to Roy. And the other women.

Fortunately, they were all going to be together that evening. That was one of the reasons she was so excited about the move. The prospect of having everyone in one place, sharing the same space and gradually building a life together, filled her with a kind of happiness she hadn't anticipated. Family discussions could happen over dinner rather than through a chaotic chain of messages. Concerns could be raised, considered, and resolved before minor irritations turned into larger problems.

Communication was essential. Jessica knew that as well as anyone. A relationship could survive a great deal when people were honest with one another. Dishonesty, on the other hand, had a way of corroding everything it touched.

The memory of Charles briefly intruded, unwelcome and sharp-edged. Jessica pushed it aside. This wasn't that. Roy wasn't Charles, and her life with Roy was nothing like her marriage had been. She didn't have to keep bracing herself for the discovery of some concealed betrayal. Whatever the future brought, they were building it openly. That was what mattered.

The traffic began to loosen as the road widened beyond a busy intersection. Jessica checked her mirrors, signalled, and moved into the next lane, grateful to finally make a little progress. The steady hum of the engine and the passing storefronts gave her thoughts a rhythm, and with the extra space came an unexpected clarity.

She already knew what she was going to say.

The more she considered Agnes's request, the more reasonable it seemed. The initial uncertainty had been an instinctive reaction to an unfamiliar situation, not evidence of an actual problem. A beautiful woman had developed feelings for a wonderful man. She'd approached the matter honestly, shown respect for the existing relationships, and expressed regret for a past that she appeared determined to leave behind.

Why shouldn't Jessica encourage her?

In fact, the idea of Agnes dating Roy had begun to sound positively appealing. There was something gratifying about imagining the blonde bombshell from her office becoming part of their unconventional little family. Jessica could already picture Agnes discovering the less obvious qualities that made Roy so attractive, learning to appreciate his quiet humour, his patience, and his unfailing consideration. Living near him had apparently been enough to kindle her interest, but knowing Roy properly would give her a chance to understand what the rest of them already knew.

Roy had a way of bringing out the best in people.

It wasn't that he demanded perfection from anyone. Quite the opposite. He made people feel safe enough to admit their imperfections, then encouraged them to do something about them. Jessica had seen him offer patience where someone else might have responded with irritation, and kindness where someone else might have delivered a cutting remark. He wasn't naïve, and he wasn't weak. He simply seemed to believe that people were worth the effort.

Agnes could benefit from that.

Perhaps she already had.

Jessica thought again of their conversation, of Agnes's strained admission that she'd been awful in the past and her insistence that she didn't want to be that person anymore. The vagueness still bothered the lawyer in her. A sincere expression of remorse was encouraging, but it wasn't the same as knowing exactly what had happened or whether the people affected had received an apology.

Still, Jessica wasn't proposing to award Agnes a medal for moral excellence. She was considering whether Agnes deserved the opportunity to pursue a relationship honestly, with everyone informed and nobody being deceived.

That seemed fair.

Whatever Agnes had done before, she would have to show through her actions that she'd changed. Jessica wasn't going to guarantee her trust in advance, and she certainly wasn't going to ignore genuinely bad behaviour if it emerged. But a past mistake shouldn't necessarily be a life sentence. If Agnes had learned from hers, then perhaps Roy was precisely the sort of person who could help her continue to grow.

Jessica smiled at the thought.

Maybe she could get the other girlfriends on board before Roy arrived. Find out what they thought, listen to their concerns, and see whether there was any reason to hesitate. There was no point in presenting the idea to Roy without first understanding how the women already in his life felt about it. If everyone was comfortable, then the conversation with him could be an invitation rather than an awkward negotiation.

And if Roy liked Agnes, well, that would be lovely.

The woman had been living down the hall from him for who knew how long. Jessica had to wonder whether Roy had ever noticed how attractive she was. Probably. He wasn't blind. But his attention had been occupied by the rest of them, and perhaps he'd never considered that Agnes might be interested.

Jessica almost laughed at the thought of his expression when the possibility was raised. Roy could be so wonderfully oblivious about his own appeal. He'd probably need reassurance that Agnes genuinely wanted to date him, rather than merely finding him an intriguing curiosity.

Then, of course, there was the matter of Agnes's past.

Jessica hoped it wouldn't become an obstacle. Not because it was irrelevant, but because she wanted to believe people could change, and because Agnes had seemed sincerely ashamed. More to the point, Jessica had no desire to see Roy miss out on an opportunity for happiness over mistakes that might have been made years ago. Whatever those mistakes were, Agnes seemed to regret them.

And Roy was the sort of man who could give someone a reason to do better. He made people want to be better. Jessica had experienced that herself. Being loved by Roy had made her more patient, more affectionate, and more willing to consider possibilities she'd once dismissed without a second thought. He didn't ask her to become someone else. Somehow, he made her want to become more fully herself.

Agnes might discover the same thing.

The indicator clicked as Jessica turned into her neighbourhood. Familiar houses lined the road, their front windows beginning to glow as people settled in for the evening. The sight of them brought a pleasant sense of anticipation. Home was no longer just the place where she took off her heels, poured a glass of wine, and reviewed tomorrow's schedule. Soon it would be filled with people she loved, with conversations drifting from room to room and the small, unspectacular routines that made a household feel lived in.

She couldn't wait to see Roy. She couldn't wait to see the others, either.

And perhaps that was another reason the idea of Agnes joining them appealed to her. The house wasn't the biggest in the city, but they could manage the space. They'd find a way to make things work. There was room for another person, provided everyone wanted her there.

Jessica turned into her driveway and brought the car to a stop. For a moment, she sat with her hands resting on the steering wheel, looking at the house and picturing what it might become. The prospect filled her with an almost girlish excitement, a feeling she hadn't expected to experience again at this point in her life.

She'd talk to the others first. Then she'd talk to Roy.

It was a sound plan, respectful of everyone's feelings and honest about what was being considered. No secrets, no deception, no one being manoeuvred into something they hadn't agreed to. Just a family trying to work out how to make room for one more person.

Jessica gathered her briefcase and stepped out into the evening, already rehearsing how she might introduce the subject.

Roy would be home soon.

She couldn't wait to tell him.