NOVEL NEXT Chapter 141: Recontextualize
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Claire: He's a grown man.
Karen: It's not like you can cheat without a partner.
Claire: Sure you can. Trying counts.
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December 1st, 2090, about 6:10 pm MST, Montana City
"So what now?" asked Karen.
"I don't know. The stakes haven't exactly changed," he told her seriously. She'd been quiet during Marie's call, and looked—guilty. He didn't blame her, though for some reason the sentiment still felt vaguely painful to see on her.
"Haven't they?" said Karen. "Claire's CEO now. No big bad dad blocking the way to Mars."
Her body language was stiff, her face set, looking away from him. A tear lurked in the corner of one eye, unshed.
He looked at her for a moment. She was almost squirming. It had cost her to say that.
"No," he told her gently. "I don't think so. Her authority will be limited, for the first many years—however many her provisional status lasts for. Five? Hiram still has the shares to overrule her regardless—I'm sorry, I know you're trying to be kind."
"I feel like an asshole," she said bluntly. "Marie's too good for you. I thought you were doomed, and here I'm having to worry about you getting back together."
He nodded. "I can see that. Not what you signed up for, I know."
"Ask Claire," Karen told him. "I won't do that for you—that's just too much to ask me to do. But we both have to know."
He nodded.
"I'll do it," he promised. He didn't sugar coat it. He was done steering.
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Earlier that morning:
"I was watching you guys," Gordon said. "And it hit me."
Harry looked up from his tea—or whatever he was fiddling with—and gave him space.
"Claire knows exactly where her life is headed," Gordon said. "She's got the map. She is the map. Suit coats and quarterly reports and whatever the hell happens in boardrooms."
Harry gave a small smile.
"But you showed up to a formal event," Gordon continued, "wearing a vest. Not a blazer. Not even a jacket. Just a vest."
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Harry chuckled. "Yeah. She didn't say a word."
"That's what got me. She could've corrected you. Or nudged you. Or guilted you into dressing the part. But she didn't. She just let you walk in beside her like that—because it was you."
Gordon paused, searching for the right words.
"I grew up thinking love meant steering. If you really cared about someone, you managed them. Gently. Quietly. You helped them not crash. You guided."
He exhaled. "I thought. . . you could steer someone you loved, and still call it love. Still call it respect."
Harry tilted his head. "And now?"
Gordon shrugged. "Now I'm not so sure. Claire didn't steer you. She didn't even flinch. She just—let you steer. Because it's your life."
Harry shook his head, gently.
"No," he said. "It's our life. So I get to steer—too.
"So does that mean you're done steering Karen?" Harry asked. "Marie?"
Gordon didn't answer right away.
Harry's voice stayed gentle. "Do you love them enough to stop?"
Still nothing.
Harry pressed, softer now. "Point of fact—you've told me you love me. But not Marie. Not your girlfriend. On paper, anyway. Why is that?"
"I'm respecting her boundary," Gordon said, carefully.
Harry tilted his head. "Interesting. Because from where I'm standing, the only boundary of hers you've actually respected. . . is the one that keeps things ambiguous."
Gordon rocked back, like he'd been slapped.
"Just saying," Harry added, almost apologetic. "I'm told you got an ultimatum."
Gordon's eyes narrowed.
"Don't look at me like that," Harry said. "Karen told Claire. Of course she did. Claire told me. And I told the ceiling."
"Gordon didn't laugh. He looked away.
Harry let the silence sit for a beat. Then:
"You know what classy people usually do before moving in, or getting handsy, or reshaping someone's entire life trajectory?"
Gordon gave a weary glance.
"They say some words," Harry said. "Maybe not always that one. But something close. Something like: I'm investing myself in you."
He held Gordon's gaze.
"Which—let's be honest—means love."
"So what's next, rabbi?" Gordon asked quietly.
Harry glanced at him, surprised. "Means teacher, you know," he said offhand, as if deflecting.
Gordon gave a faint shrug. "Seemed appropriate."
Harry nodded once, then looked down at his hands. "Maybe start by saying something you're uncomfortable saying. If it's true. To whoever you need to tell it to."
Gordon was quiet.
"You told me that from the start," he said.
Harry smiled without looking up. "Yeah, well. Call me Cassandra."