Chapter. 19

{Third person's pov}

After an hour Arizona walked towards his study and knocked on the door, when she heard his voice, she opened the door and walked inside.

"You don't have to knock Arizona." He said and she bit her lips. "Come, have a seat."

She walked towards the table and sat in from of him. "So have you thought about it?" He said and she replied. "I... I don't want to trouble anyone."

Everett was quiet for a moment not because he was considering her answer but because he recognized it.

It wasn't an answer at all, he closed the file he'd been reading and set his pen down with deliberate care. "Arizona."

His voice was calm. "That's the third time." She looked at him, confused. "The first time, you apologized for being harassed."

"The second time, you said you didn't want to trouble me over college."

"And now..." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "...you're telling me you don't want to trouble anyone."

A brief silence settled between them. "I didn't ask whether you were a burden." His eyes held hers steadily. "I asked what you wanted."

She lowered her gaze again and Everett sighed quietly, not out of frustration with her, but with the habit she had been forced to develop.

He stood from his chair and walked around the desk, stopping beside the window.

"For years," he said, looking out at the gardens, "someone taught you that your wants come after everyone else's."

He turned back toward her. "I have no intention of continuing that lesson." He rested one hand lightly on the edge of his desk.

"So let me make something very clear, if taking you somewhere for a week meant my company collapsed...I'd still make that decision myself." A faint pause. "You don't get to decide what is or isn't too much for me."

There was no anger in his voice, only certainty, he walked over and stopped in front of her chair, his tone softened. "You know what troubles me?"

She looked up slowly and he continued. "The idea that my wife is sitting in front of me, afraid to ask for something as simple as a holiday."

A small, almost rueful smile appeared. "I negotiate billion dollar contracts for a living, I can survive booking two plane tickets."

"So let's try this differently." He crouched slightly so they were at eye level. "Forget the trip, forget me and close your eyes for a second."

He waited until she did. "Imagine you're twenty years old again, no marriage, no responsibilities and Emily walks into your room and says, 'Pack your bags. We're leaving tomorrow.'"

"What's the first place that comes into your mind?" He didn't ask whether it was practical, he didn't ask whether it fit his schedule.

He simply waited and for the first answer that belonged only to Arizona.

Her breath became havier because of the proximity and she closed her eyes. "Everett, you have done more than enough for me.."

He interrupted, "That's my duty, you are my wife."

She bit her lips, "I do want this holiday but not out of duty Everett, I want it only if you are willing for this, not out of duty." She finally said it.

For a long moment, Everett simply looked at her, she had finally done it, she hadn't answered out of guilt, she hadn't answered to please his parents, she hadn't answered to protect his work, she had answered him.

A faint breath escaped him, almost a quiet laugh, more from relief than amusement. "There you are," he murmured.

"I was beginning to think I'd never meet the woman behind all those apologies." His eyes stayed on hers.

Then he stood, giving her back the space that had made her breathing falter.

He slipped both hands into his trouser pockets, looking out the window for a moment before speaking again.

"When I was twenty eight," he said quietly, "my father had a mild heart attack." Arizona looked up.

"From that day onward, I convinced myself that if I stopped working... even briefly... everything would fall apart." He gave a small shake of his head. "It never did."

"I simply never allowed myself to find out." He turned back toward her. "So no..." His expression softened into something she was seeing more often now. "...this isn't duty."

"It hasn't been for a while." The admission hung in the room between them, measured, honest. "I want to go."

His voice was steady. "I want to spend time with my wife somewhere no one is calling me into meetings, no one is asking me to solve family disputes, and Emily isn't interrupting every conversation."

That earned the smallest smile from him. "I want to see what makes you smile when you're not worried about everyone else."

He walked back to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a leather notebook. "One condition."

Arizona blinked and he opened it to a blank page and slid it across the desk toward her along with a pen.

"You choose the destination."

She hesitated and he raised an eyebrow. "And before you tell me you don't mind...remember what I said, I already know you don't mind what I don't know..." his gaze met hers warmly. "...is what Arizona dreams about."

For the first time since they had married, Everett wasn't making a decision for her, he was asking her to make one with him.