The One Who Got Away — CH 19

 

Chapter 19: The Angle

"I still think you're wearing that dress just to distract me."

"Distract? No. Entice, maybe." Kay smirked as she straightened the collar of Seth's shirt, letting her hand rest on his chest for a moment.

He gazed up at her with that damn smoldering look. "Well, it's working."

She laughed, leaning down for a kiss. "You look hot, too."

The smoldering look flickered a bit. "I'll keep that in mind when your colleagues don’t know how to talk to me. It'll be because I look hot."

Kay squeezed his neck. "They’re gonna just love you."

Seth rolled his shoulder. No surprise there — of course he was nervous. She was too, bringing him to Stettler & Ilk’s annual barbecue. The barbecue Martin had told her to bring her boyfriend to, after seeing those peonies on her desk. 

“Oh, I'm sorry.” The boss's awkward apology when she'd mentioned the wheelchair still echoed in her mind. And the worst part? He hadn’t brought it up again — not once — though she knew he'd wanted to. Wanted to ask why her boyfriend used a wheelchair. And it wasn’t just Martin — the boss could be surprisingly chatty when he wanted to be, and news of disabled partners traveled fast, apparently. Within days, the silent question had made its way across the office, written plainly on everyone’s face. But no one had asked.

"So waddaya want from me once we're there?" Greg asked Seth, opening the sliding door on the side of the van. "Should I come with, or…?"

Seth glanced over his shoulder, at Kay, then back at his PCA. "No, you can hang back there. Be on call." Kay smiled to herself. How very, wonderfully Seth.

"Hang back, huh." Greg gave his employer a thumbs-up. "Gotcha. Fancy architect parties aren't my thing anyway." He stood by as the platform lift touched the ground of the driveway and Seth rolled onto it, watching with that sort of hovering nervousness he often exhibited. It was funny how of all three PCAs, the most anxious one was Greg — the tattooed truck driver. 

Martin's house was a good forty minutes away, and of course Kay had made sure they were on their way early. As she watched the streets passing by outside the van's window, she went through the scenarios again.There were a few ways this day could play out — and Kay had already gone through the possibilities at least six times. But once more couldn’t hurt.

Scenario No. 1: Everything would go smoothly from top to bottom. Her colleagues wouldn't behave awkwardly around Seth, and there wouldn't be any SCI-related hiccups.

Scenario No. 2: There would be a lot of uncomfortable silences — people not knowing how to talk to Seth, or even ignoring him. Basically, one big awkward Saturday. Possibly a reason to leave early.

Scenario No. 3: People would be chill, but some medical situation or care issue would come up. Having to improvise — or even leave abruptly — was a possibility.

Scenario No. 4: People would be clumsy and a medical issue would come up. Basically the worst that could happen today: the boss barbecue from hell.

The problem with every one of those scenarios? Kay had no idea how she’d react to any of them. They were just that — imagined situations, without any real plan on her end. Sighing silently, she glanced over at Seth. Talking about it beforehand might have been an idea. She should have asked him — "What do we do if my colleagues get flustered by the chair?" "What if something comes up and we have to leave early? What do I say? What do you WANT me to say?" 

He noticed her gaze and looked up, having been focused on breathing through the spasms that hit during car rides. "So do they—" His voice died mid-sentence, and he waited for his trunk to calm down. "Do they know that I’m—"

Kay raised an eyebrow. "Do they know you’re a quad?"

He smirked. "I was going to say architect."

"Oh," she blinked. "Uh, no."

Seth cocked his head. "No to the quad or no to the architect?"

"Well," she self-consciously pushed back a strand of hair. "Both."

He nodded slowly, licking his lips. "You could have mentioned the architect part."

Oh Seth. Of course there were scenarios running in his head too. "They just know about the wheelchair, not why you use one," Kay said, glancing at him hesitantly. "Did I mess that up?"

He paused — not long, just enough for something to flicker behind his eyes. Then he shrugged. "No," he said. "It’s fine."

She studied him quietly. "Seth? What do you want me to do if something comes up?" She didn't need to elaborate — he knew what she meant.

"We do what we always do," he said, rolling his shoulder. "We'll handle it." After riding out yet another spasm, he met her eyes. "Don't worry."

Kay snorted. "I'm not worried."

"Sure you are." He gave her a warm look. "I know these kinds of work functions can be nerve-wracking."

He didn't say the rest out loud — that work functions could be stressful, yes, but that bringing a disabled plus one made everything so much more complicated. A part of Kay almost felt bad for dragging him into this. But the invitation had specifically been for partners and spouses — and Seth was her partner, quad or no quad. There would be more barbecues, more occasions with a plus one. So there wasn't really any going around this. With some luck, it would turn out as scenario no 1.

"Is this his design?" Seth asked, peeking out the window when they turned into the driveway. "Impressive."

Kay nodded. "Now I know what my colleagues meant when they said Martin's house is like a portfolio of his style." The boss’s house was — true to his architectural specialty — a historical building with a big modern annex that seamlessly melted into the old part as if it had never not existed. 

They didn’t get out of the van right away — Kay’s time anxiety (aka being early) gave Seth time for a long pressure relief and a stretch from Greg. Kay sat and watched, nervously kneading her knuckles, the scenarios playing on loop in her head. Once they did get out, the first thing Seth looked at was the wide staircase leading up to the main entrance. "I hope we're not supposed to go through the front door," he said dryly as he descended on the lift.

Kay laughed. "No, there's a path around the house — I told you that yesterday, didn’t I?"

He lifted his shoulder. "You didn't provide specifics."

"That's because I don't have any."

Seth gave her a funny look before he went for his sip-and-puff, propelling the wheelchair off the platform. 

Kay glanced at the house again. It looked peaceful. Inviting. A warm breeze caught up. Greg was giving Seth a matronly lookover. "So I'm just gonna… be here, right?"

"Yeah," Seth said with a smile. "Or grab a coffee at that bakery we passed. We’ll call you if something comes up."

Greg shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Maybe. I’ll hang for a minute."

Kay tightened her grip on the gift bag in her hand — wine and chocolates for the boss. She took a breath, glanced at Seth. "Let’s go."

As they approached the house, she soon spotted the path Martin had mentioned. "Over there," she said, pointing at the hydrangea bushes that cleverly concealed the narrow opening. "Want me to go first?"

"Sure," Seth mumbled, control between his teeth. "Lead the way."

Kay stepped through the opening, looking over her shoulder to make sure he was able to navigate between the bushes. It was a narrow space, but enough for the wheelchair to fit through. 

The path looked like the historical part of the house: Old flagstones covering the ground, lined by rocks and flower beds. Kay was just thinking how picturesque it all was when she faltered in her steps, staring at what was in front of her — a segment of the path that was different from the rest. A tree root had elevated the ground into a one-sided slope. It wasn’t just uneven — the flagstones lifted on one side at a steep angle, and the space between that angle and the flower bed was narrow. Too narrow. Fine for stepping over — not for rolling. A pit opened in Kay's stomach. "Uh, Seth?" She licked her lips as she turned to him, stepping to the side and pointing at the spot. "Can you manage this?" She knew the answer, but a part of her was still hoping for something else.

Seth stared at the obstacle, blinked, then let out a small huff. "No," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Of course not."

She swallowed. "Maybe… — are you sure?"

He looked at her sharply. "Yes, I'm fucking sure. I have eyes." He bit the inside of his cheek, jaw flexing.

The pit in Kay's stomach opened up. Not because of what he'd said — but because of how… shaken he looked. And because in all the years she had known Seth, she had never heard such a cutting edge in his voice. She opened her mouth, unsure what to say — but Seth was already backing out through the hydrangeas. He stopped once he was in front of the house again, his jaw tight. "Is there another path?"

Kay looked around nervously. Martin had said the path was on the left side of the house — and this was the left. "I'll check," she said nonetheless. "Let me check."

Her palms were sweaty as she crossed the driveway. But even before reaching the other side of the house, she saw the problem: just a garage and a hedge. No path. Shit. Shit shit shit. This was her fault — her boss’s house, her event, her plan. And she was the one who said it would be fine. This was not any of the scenarios — this was a new one: Scenario No. 5.

Seth was back by the van now, staring at the ground. Greg stood next to him, uneasily looking back and forth between his employer and Kay. The back of her neck burned. "There's nothing," she said, running a shaky hand through her hair. "Just… fuck, what do we do?"

Seth didn't look up, just shrugged wordlessly. She stood there, holding that stupid gift bag, unable to sort out the chaos in her head. They both stayed silent until Greg, who had still been standing there, shifted awkwardly and stepped away, to the other side of the van.

Seth banged his head back against the headrest, eyes closed. "So much for the accessible backyard."

Kay flinched at the flatness in his voice. It wasn’t angry — just tired. And that was somehow worse. "I thought it was!" She threw up her hands. "Martin said it would —"

He shook his head with a scoff. "And this is what happens when you don't ask for specifics, Kay."

She grimaced. "I just assumed… I mean, he said it would be accessible for a wheelchair."

Finally, he looked at her — straight, eyes raw. "Yeah, but you didn’t tell him what kind of wheelchair, did you." His voice was calm, but the edge was still there, restrained, measured. "You didn't tell him I'm a quad."

Fuck. Yes. She hadn’t given her boss the full picture. Hadn’t double-checked the accessibility beforehand — and now she had hurt Seth with it. And what stung most was that she knew better. She wasn’t new to this. "Accessible" could mean ten different things, and usually meant none of them. She'd known this — known she always needed to make sure when going places with Seth. But this time? This time she hadn’t. Because it was her work. Because it was Martin. And she’d let that override everything else.

She barely registered the new cars pulling into the driveway. Now two of her colleagues were walking past and they had "scenario no. 2" looks on their faces. The double take on Seth, the awkward, hesitant wave… it made Kay freak out even more. Her mouth felt dry. Seth was rolling his neck — that thing he did whenever he felt uncomfortably exposed. He glanced at her. "You should just go in," he said. "I'll pick you up when it's done."

Kay's stomach hollowed. "What?" she stammered, "No! No, I told everyone you’d come."

He gave her a look. "What else are we supposed to do, Kay. I can't get in."

Hearing him say that last part, with that calm resignation in his voice that was so Seth made her heart clench and speed up at the same time. From around the house, laughter could be heard, accompanied by clapping and cheering. Martin was probably giving some sort of welcome speech — the party had started. "But…," Kay gripped the gift bag tighter, palms sweaty again. "This… this is not how it was supposed to go. I can’t —" I don't want to be here without you. The panic hit unexpectedly and abruptly, washing over her like an icy wave. This was not the plan.

Seth’s eyes were on her. She didn’t want to look up — then did so anyway. His expression had softened, worry replacing frustration. "Okay," he said quietly, after taking a breath. "Why don't you… why don't you go in and ask. Maybe there's another way."

Kay swallowed, nodding quickly, even though they both knew there probably wasn't. "Alright. Yeah. I'll go ask. Please don't leave. Let me figure this out." She hated this. Hated that she needed to just leave him here, even if it was just for five minutes. She hovered, looking at him, then bent down and slung one arm around his neck, burying her nose in his hair for a second. Straightening, she took another breath. "I'll be right back," she told Seth earnestly. Then she went back to the hydrangea opening.

Spotting Martin wasn't hard. Bright yellow shirt with a red kerchief, indigo blue pants — surrounded by a few of her colleagues and apparently telling a story everyone found insanely funny. Kay mostly ignored the curious questions being thrown at her from all sides as she crossed the garden. She didn’t have time to answer. And really — the answers should’ve been obvious. Yes, that was her boyfriend back there. Yes, there was something wrong. Yes, she was okay, but also no, she wasn't.

She didn't really remember what she said to Martin when she waved him aside, just that it involved the words "path" and "wheelchair". Before she knew it, she was following her boss back around the house, trailing after him toward the driveway. He was surprised, no: dumbfounded at the idea that the path shouldn't work, and Kay showed him the spot in question. "Oh that’s…," he murmured, clearing his throat. "There has to be a solution for this. Where is your boyfriend now?"

The boyfriend was still where she had left him — next to the van, currently being fed water by Greg. He was still quietly pissed, still shaken, she could see it from thirty feet away. She had seen it before, but it had never been her fault. Please let there be a fix for this. Please. 

The faltering in Martin's step upon seeing Seth was immediate, as was that short intake of breath that nearly turned into a gasp. She winced. And this is what happens when you don't tell your boss what kind of wheelchair user your boyfriend is, Kay. She could have just said it, mentioned it even in passing — but she hadn't, and now Seth was getting the reaction that he hated most: Shock. 

"I'm Martin Stettler," the boss was saying, and oh God, he looked like he was going for a handshake. Kay could see him suppress the impulse in the last moment, hand clenching at his side when Seth leaned for his control straw — always a subtle way of showing people he couldn't move anything else. 

"I'm sorry about this," Martin fumbled, after Seth had introduced himself and Greg. "Can we go back there and see if there's a solution?" He nervously gestured toward the path. 

Seth glanced at Kay first, as if to check, and she answered with a wordless please. Even though she knew how uncomfortable all of this was for him, and even though she felt guilty for having landed him here at all — Martin was still her boss, and he was here, trying, and she didn't want to be rude. 

"Sure," Seth answered the question with a smile. "Let's have a look." Because of course he understood.

 

"What if we… gave you a little push from behind," Martin asked, completely earnest, once again staring at the uprooted flagstones.

A subtle tensing up of Seth’s jaw, but he didn’t blink. "That's not going to work."

"Or a pull?"

Kay cringed inwardly — at her boss's cluelessness and at how all of this could have been avoided.

"The angle is too sharp, ya see," Greg told Martin, pointing at the sloped flagstones. "And a damn narrow space too."

The boss nodded, brow furrowed. He obviously intended to solve this — really intended to. "What if we lifted the chair on one side to get it to a horizontal angle?"

At this, Seth actually snorted softly, ever so slightly shaking his head. "My chair weighs nearly 300 pounds."

Martin's face fell. "Oh." An awkward pause. "Is there something we could… put on top? So that going over would be easier?"

Seth opened his mouth to answer, but Greg was quicker, tattooed arms on his hips. "The only thing getting him across that thing is a ramp. I suppose ya don't have one of those at hand?"

Greg — you had to love him. But also, Kay needed him to pull it down.

Seth, who usually would've taken over by now, was quiet, his eyes drifting to somewhere in the trees, like he was thinking of something else. No wonder. Great work, Kay.

The boss cleared his throat. "So," he clasped his own hands. "You're saying there is no way to get the chair across this?"

"Oh, the chair’s not the problem," Greg blurted. "This thing’s maneuverable as hell." Seeing the confused look on Martin's face he added: "It's just way too dangerous."

The penny seemed to drop for Martin: too dangerous for Seth. Awkward silence stretched for a moment, heavy and brittle. That feeling of panic bubbled up inside Kay again. She ran a hand over her hair, the other one still gripping that gift bag. There was no solution. There was nothing that could be done. She'd have to go to that barbecue alone, with her boss feeling bad and her boyfriend having been exposed like this for nothing. Fuck.

Seth looked at her. Licked his lips. Then the top of his shoulders lifted as he took a breath. "It would work," he said, voice unexpectedly steady. "Without me in the chair."

Kay stared at him wide-eyed, because she knew what he was suggesting — and most of all what it meant for him to suggest it. So did Greg, who grimaced, emitting some sort of grumble.

Martin, however, lit up. "You mean if we… carry you? That's a great idea!" Because of course he didn't know — didn't realize that for Seth, being lifted and carried was pure exposure, pure vulnerability, pure loss of control. 

Greg clicked his tongue. "I don't like it."

Seth looked at him. "It would only be for a few paces, until the chair is over the threshold. No big deal."

Liar. Kay's heart ached — with admiration, with guilt, with something tender and sharp all at once. Instinctively, she took a step closer to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do that," she whispered, slightly leaning down. 

He just glanced at her, giving a reassuring blink. "It's okay."

Martin shifted from one leg to the other, clearing his throat. "So how are we gonna…?"

Greg crossed his arms. "I'll need a strong guy to help me lift," he said, looking at Martin. "Got one of those?"

Kay did a swift mental check of her colleagues. Who was the fittest? "Vincent,"she said to her boss. "He would be good for it."

"Alright," the boss nodded. "Let me go get him." He put his hands together, smiling at them excitedly. "So glad we found a solution for this."

Kay wished she could be glad, too, but she wasn't. As soon as Martin was walking off, she turned to Seth again. "Are you sure about this? You can still change your mind."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Keep asking me and I might." When she put a hand on his cheek, he winked. "It's fine. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried. I just —" feel insanely guilty.

Seth kissed her palm. "Let's just get to that barbecue."

"Whatever ya do," Greg said to Vincent, "don't let go. If ya let go, he goes down."

Vincent — towering over Seth, really — nodded. "Sure." He had pulled back the sleeves of his shirt as if he was ready to heft a bunch of crates. Nervousness was written all over his face, but Kay knew he'd do fine — Vincent was the most jacked architect she'd ever met. Personally she was much more nervous about her own task: guiding the wheelchair over the sloped flagstones once Greg and Vincent had lifted Seth out and carried him across. What if she didn't manage? What if the wheels got stuck? She glanced at her boss, who was standing a few paces further down the path, starting to look impatient. He wanted to go back to his barbecue, obviously. But this wasn't something you could just rush — too much that could go wrong. "Martin," she called out hesitantly. "Would you… would you mind giving me a hand with the chair?" It felt awkward, asking her boss to do this, but on the other hand: This was his fucked up garden path, and he was the one who'd insisted on finding a solution.

Martin nodded, awkwardly squeezing past Vincent, Seth and Greg. "What do you need me to do, Kay?"

Not sure. "Maybe just be in front of it and check that the wheels don't get stuck?" she suggested, nervously fingering the strap of the bag in her hands — the gifts she still hadn’t handed to him. Well, now was not the moment either. Greg had unstrapped Seth and now slung his arms around his torso, gripping his wrists while instructing Vincent how to best take his legs. Seth was quiet — the sort of quiet that always settled over him when he was about to be cargo. Tension. Composure. Bracing. Enduring. And Kay hated it for him.

When Greg and Vincent lifted on three, spasms rattled through Seth's midsection almost instantly. "Hold on," the PCA quickly barked. "Wait."

Vincent looked unsettled by the sudden shaking, but he didn't let go. "It's normal," Seth told him, voice thin and breathless. "Just happens."

Kay bit the inside of her cheek. When the spasms stopped and Greg said "Go", she held her breath. She knew neither Greg nor Vincent would drop Seth. It wasn’t that. It was the way her stomach twisted at what it took to get to that stupid barbecue — what it took out of Seth. He wants this, she reminded herself. He's doing it for you. Focus on your task. Switching to autopilot, she stepped behind the wheelchair. Finally, the gift bag left her hand, landing on the empty seat.

The maneuver was tricky. Muttering curses under her breath, she guided the wobbling and dangerously tilting chair over the sloped flagstones. Martin wasn't much help — he just stood there, hands hovering but never touching. If it had been anyone else, Kay would've said something, demanded actual support. But this was her boss. 

Cold sweat clung to her forehead; she wiped it away once the chair was over the slope. She grabbed the gift bag from the seat, resisting the urge to throw it into the flower bed, and handed it to Martin with a polite smile. Only then did she look up — and see Seth, still hanging there, suspended between Greg’s and Vincent’s grip. Her eyes stayed on him as they lowered him back into the chair, back into the place where he could finally be in control again. She saw the hidden tension in his jaw, the subtle paleness of his features — probably not from exertion, but from what this was doing to him. And as she stood and watched Greg lean Seth forward and back, fit the laterals and position his arms, it hit her like a stone — they were going to have to do this all over again later, in reverse. 

Martin clapped Vincent on the shoulder. "Great," he said. "Well done team." As if this were the end of a meeting at the firm — then turned toward the garden again, already halfway back to his party. And for the first time since arriving here, Kay wasn't just mad at herself, but at her boss, too. 

Seth's voice brought her out of it. "You did well," he said softly.

Kay let out a short laugh — not because any of it was funny. The opposite, actually. She shook her head, gave him a tender look. "You okay?"

"Sure."

Because yeah, what else could he say. She glanced at the narrow path ahead, then at the low murmur of voices from the garden. Right. Party time.

Some people clapped at their arrival, a few cheered cautiously, most just turned and looked. "Sorry," she whispered to Seth, resting a hand on his shoulder — she knew he hated this. For a moment, she didn't know what to do, where to turn first. How does one mingle while being a spectacle? But then someone saved them. And it wasn’t one of her architect colleagues — it was Lacey, the secretary. "So happy you guys finally made it," she said with a genuine smile. To both of them, touching both their shoulders. And then she actually started chatting to Seth — normally. As if he were the most regular plus one ever. Kay simply stared at her, stunned. Lacey, the blondie, who had set her up with horrible Gideon — Lacey with the fake lashes and long gel nails — of all people, she was the one who wasn’t afraid to talk to a quadriplegic. "If only I'd known you use a power chair," she was saying to Seth. "I would have made Martin fix that path yesterday."

"Power chair". Kay let out a small breath of realization. Only someone familiar with disability would use that term. Lacey had experience — somehow, somewhere. If only Kay had known. That all this time, someone in the firm might have understood. And this is what happens when you assume wrong, Kay.

The smell of grilled meat, hanging thick in the air, suddenly reached her senses. Maybe she was… hungry. Just a little. Vincent came over and handed her a plate, piled with ribs and salad. "Only brought one," he said with an awkward shrug, looking at Seth. "Figured Kay would… you know."

"Take all the food for herself?" Seth said, smirking. "Yeah, she always does."

Vincent grinned. "Still brought two forks though."

Kay sat on Seth's lap while they ate — for several reasons. First, it was just easier this way. Second, she knew that for all the people secretly watching, her standing or sitting beside Seth while guiding a fork to his mouth gave off caregiver vibes. And third, sitting on his lap shielded him from too many intrusive stares while he was being fed. Because those ribs were messy. Good thing Vincent had provided napkins. 

More colleagues came to greet them. There were a couple red faces from aborted handshake attempts, a few awkward glances at spasms — but all things considered, most of her colleagues did well. Who knew that a messed-up garden path could provide such a solid conversation starter? Seth handled it all like the pro he was, smooth and easy-going. Looking at him, no one would have suspected he had just been through the wringer. But Kay knew. She stayed close, never left his side. Not because he wasn't able to handle the socializing on his own — of course he was — but because she needed to make sure he didn’t have to fake it all by himself.

"So for next year," Martin said, rejoining them with a glass of wine in hand, "this path is getting fixed. Promise." He gave Seth an apologetic smile. "Assuming this hasn’t scared you off my barbecues for good."

Seth chuckled, dipping his head. "If the path is fixed, I'll be here." After a beat, he added: "It's a beautiful place you've built here."

Martin produced a nonchalant hand gesture, but his face lit up — he loved flattery. "People seem to like it," he said with faux modesty. "Especially when they don't expect the annex."

Seth was looking past the birch trees toward the building, eyes slightly narrowing. "I love the junction detail between the old masonry and the curtain wall," he said, tilting his chin toward the annex. "The compression joint's almost invisible. Makes the transition feel inevitable."

The boss blinked, pushing up his horn-rimmed glasses. "You know something about architecture."

An amused smirk twitched on Seth's lips. "A bit."

Kay smiled. "He’s one of us, Martin."

"He's…?" the boss’s brows pulled together, then shot up. "Oh!" He looked at Kay. "Why did you never mention that?"

Good question indeed. Kay felt herself blush, sharing a silent glance with Seth. Discreetly, almost imperceptibly, he winked at her. Beautiful bastard.

Martin was rubbing his chin, searching Seth's face like he was cataloging. "What did you say your last name was?"

"Bell."

"Bell… wait —" The other man’s face lit up, as if a light bulb had just gone on. "David Roth’s Bell?"

Seth smiled. "You know Dave?"

"Of course," Martin chuckled. "Old friend and rival." A pause as he squinted, tapping his finger. "You did the Merriman Library with him."

Seth gave a small nod. "Detail work, mostly. A bit of façade logistics."

The boss clicked his tongue. "Well, that detail work was fantastic." He gave a rueful smile. "We tried for that project too, you know. You guys snatched it right out from under us in the second round. Damn public tender process."

Kay just stood and watched as their conversation continued. The glass in her hand suddenly felt lighter, the slight breeze in her hair gentler. And Seth — God, Seth looked at ease, settled. And so damn sexy when he talked architecture. 

"You know," Martin said, his expression somewhere between a wink and a grimace. "Now I feel extra bad about that whole path situation."

"As you should," Kay blurted, before she could stop herself. Oops. 

The boss gave a startled laugh. 

Seth’s eyes flicked up to her, one corner of his mouth tugging upward in quiet appreciation. "Don't worry," he said to Martin. "Nothing says welcome like a two-man lift over masonry."

Martin chuckled, then turned more serious. "Does stuff like that…," he made a fumbling hand gesture. "Happen a lot?"

Seth's left shoulder rose. "It happens."

"And it never should," Kay added, then gave her boss a contrite smirk. "Even if he makes it look easy." She leaned her hip against the wheelchair, resting an arm around Seth's shoulders. 

Martin nodded, more thoughtful now. "Well," he said, raising his glass to them, "in any case, I'm glad you're here." He gave them both a brief smile — not the performative kind from earlier, but a real one — before turning and wandering off, swallowed again by the sounds and smoke of the party.

They stayed for another two hours. Seth ended up in a long conversation with Vincent about tensile structures, Lacey told them about her best friend who had severe MS, and Martin held an enthusiastic speech about Stettler & Ilk’s firm history, peppered with clumsy jokes that everyone laughed at politely. 

At some point, Seth looked at Kay and calmly said, "Getting tired."

Which made her smile, because this was new. Not that he was tired — which she had suspected anyway — but that he simply let her know, just like that. No shrugging it off, no downplaying it, just honest communication of his state. "Then let's get out of here," she said, leaning down to give him a kiss. 

The lifting and chair maneuvering over the angled flagstones wasn’t any easier the second time around. A lot of curses came out of Kay’s mouth again — louder this time. Seth's spasms were worse, and getting him settled back into the chair took longer than the actual lift. In the end, they made it. Got into the car, the side door clicking shut with a familiar thud. 

As the van gently bumped down the gravel driveway, Kay leaned back in her seat with a long exhale. Seth looked over. "That was not bad," he said with a quiet smile. "Could’ve done without the cargo moments, but… not bad."

She sighed. "If something like this ever happens again, I'll build a ramp myself."

"You better."

She studied his features, the exhaustion edging them. "I'm sorry, Seth. I should've prepared better."

He nodded slightly, his eyes soft. "You should have. But you're also not the one with the messed-up garden path."

"Thank you for going through all that. For doing it anyway."

He didn't answer right away. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're worth it." Then he leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He slept through the whole drive home.

And Kay, as she sank deeper into her seat, quietly reflected that thinking in scenarios was probably the silliest concept she'd ever gone with. 

To be continued...