Updated Apr 15, 2026 • ~11 min read
Chapter 10: Almost Ready
Declan
Declan spends the week before Saturday’s coffee shop meeting in a state of distraction that his colleagues definitely notice and Marcus definitely makes fun of, and he’s so preoccupied with thoughts of finally meeting SunnyDayDreamer that he almost walks past Keiko Tanaka at Thursday night’s industry networking event without registering her presence.
Almost.
But apparently his brain is permanently attuned to Keiko’s frequency now, because he stops mid-stride when he catches sight of her standing near the bar in a green dress that makes her look less like the Ice Queen and more like someone he’d very much like to get to know outside of professional contexts that end in mutual destruction.
She’s alone for once—no cluster of admirers or competitors, no team members flanking her for protection—and she’s staring at her phone with an expression that Declan recognizes because he’s been wearing the same one all week: nervous anticipation mixed with barely concealed terror.
“Tanaka,” he says, approaching before his brain can catch up with his feet. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Keiko looks up from her phone, and something crosses her face that might be pleasure before she schools it back to professional neutrality. “O’Sullivan. Are you following me now? Because I’m pretty sure there’s a corporate code of conduct about stalking competitors.”
“Please,” Declan says, signaling the bartender for a whiskey. “If I were going to stalk someone, I’d choose someone less likely to verbally eviscerate me in public spaces. You want a drink?”
“I have one,” Keiko says, but Declan notices her glass is empty, and when he raises an eyebrow she sighs. “Fine. Pinot noir. But this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Declan says, ordering her wine and trying not to think about how much easier this feels than it should, given their history. “Big plans tonight? Besides standing at the bar looking intimidating?”
“I’m not intimidating,” Keiko says, but she’s almost smiling. “I’m just… focused.”
“Terrifying,” Declan corrects, handing her the wine. “The word you’re looking for is terrifying. You’re aware that people literally avoid you at these events, right? I watched three different people change direction rather than walk past you.”
“Good,” Keiko says, taking a sip of wine. “Means I don’t have to make small talk with people trying to poach our clients. What about you? Shouldn’t you be charming investors or whatever it is you do at these things?”
“Probably,” Declan admits, leaning against the bar next to her in a way that feels dangerously casual. “But I’m distracted tonight. Got something on my mind.”
“Let me guess,” Keiko says, and there’s something knowing in her voice. “Work nemesis keeping you up at night? I hear that’s going around.”
“Actually no,” Declan says, and decides to be honest because apparently he’s incapable of maintaining professional boundaries around this woman. “I’m meeting someone on Saturday. Someone I’ve been talking to for a while but never met in person. And I’m terrified it’s going to be a disaster.”
Keiko goes very still beside him, her wine glass frozen halfway to her lips. “Meeting someone? Like a date?”
“Sort of,” Declan says, watching her reaction curiously. “It’s complicated. We met online but we’ve kept it anonymous. So Saturday is the first time we’ll actually see each other. Could be amazing, could be catastrophic. No way to know until it happens.”
“That sounds…” Keiko pauses, and something unreadable flickers across her face. “Brave. Or possibly insane. Definitely risky.”
“Yeah well, I’m tired of playing it safe,” Declan says, and realizes as he says it that it’s completely true. “I’ve spent my whole life competing and winning and never letting anyone see the parts of me that aren’t performing. And she knows me. Really knows me. So if it goes badly, at least I tried.”
“What if she’s not who you think she is?” Keiko asks quietly, and she’s looking at him now with an intensity that makes Declan’s pulse kick up. “What if reality doesn’t match what you’ve built in your head?”
“Then I’ll be disappointed,” Declan says honestly. “But I’d rather be disappointed having tried than spend the rest of my life wondering what if. What about you? Anyone special keeping you busy when you’re not crushing competitors?”
Keiko laughs, but it sounds slightly strained. “I’m also meeting someone on Saturday, actually. Similar situation—online connection, never met in person, probably going to be a complete disaster.”
Declan feels something twist in his chest, and he tells himself it’s not jealousy, that he has no right to feel possessive about Keiko Tanaka just because they have good chemistry when they’re not actively trying to destroy each other professionally.
“Two disasters,” he says, raising his glass. “We should toast to our respective terrible decisions.”
“To terrible decisions,” Keiko echoes, clinking her glass against his, and there’s something sad in her smile that makes Declan want to ask questions he has no right to ask.
They stand in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the networking event swirl around them, and Declan tries not to notice how easy this is, how right it feels to just exist next to Keiko without the performance of competition.
“Can I ask you something?” Keiko says finally, not looking at him. “The woman you’re meeting—why her? What makes her worth the risk?”
“She sees me,” Declan says simply. “Not the successful salesman or the charming guy or the competitive asshole who wins at all costs. She sees all of that and she likes me anyway. Maybe even because of it. And she’s honest in ways that terrify me—about her fears, her flaws, the parts of herself she thinks make her unlovable. Being with her feels like being able to breathe after holding my breath for years.”
Keiko’s hands tighten around her wine glass, and when she speaks her voice is barely audible over the noise of the event. “She sounds amazing.”
“She is,” Declan says, and then because apparently he’s determined to make this conversation even more complicated: “What about you? The person you’re meeting—what makes them worth the risk?”
“He understands me,” Keiko says quietly. “He knows I’m competitive and driven and sometimes mean, and he doesn’t need me to be softer or smaller or less ambitious. He challenges me to be vulnerable without making it feel like weakness. And when I talk to him, I feel like I can be myself instead of the person everyone expects me to be.”
“He sounds like an idiot if he doesn’t already know he’s lucky to have found you,” Declan says before he can stop himself, and watches Keiko’s head snap up in surprise.
“That’s…” she trails off, something complicated crossing her face. “Thank you. That’s maybe the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Declan says automatically, but there’s no heat in it. “I’m still planning to destroy you professionally. This is just… a temporary ceasefire for the sake of mutual emotional honesty.”
“Right,” Keiko says, but she’s smiling now, genuinely smiling, and Declan thinks not for the first time that she’s absolutely beautiful when she’s not performing the Ice Queen routine. “Temporary ceasefire. Got it.”
They talk for another twenty minutes—about nothing important, just books they’ve read recently and whether Seattle’s coffee culture is overrated (it’s not, they both agree) and the most ridiculous corporate jargon they’ve heard this month—and Declan realizes with uncomfortable clarity that he likes Keiko Tanaka when she’s not actively trying to win at his expense.
Likes her laugh, which is sharp and genuine and nothing like the professional chuckle she uses in meetings. Likes the way she argues about books with the same intensity she brings to business strategy. Likes how she unconsciously plays with her grandmother’s ring when she’s thinking, twisting it around her finger in a gesture that feels familiar in a way Declan can’t quite place.
“I should go,” Keiko says finally, reluctantly, checking her phone. “I have an early meeting tomorrow and I’m already going to be exhausted from staying up too late talking to—” she cuts herself off, cheeks flushing slightly. “Never mind. I should go.”
“Talking to your mystery man?” Declan teases gently. “The one you’re meeting on Saturday?”
“Maybe,” Keiko says, and there’s something in her expression that Declan can’t read. “He’s… we talk every night. Usually until I fall asleep with the phone still in my hand like a teenager. It’s ridiculous.”
“It sounds nice,” Declan says, and means it despite the weird pang of jealousy that accompanies the mental image of Keiko talking to some other guy with the same softness she’s showing now. “He’s lucky. Whoever he is.”
“What if he’s not who I think he is?” Keiko asks suddenly, and she’s looking at Declan with an intensity that makes him feel like she’s asking a different question entirely. “What if I’ve built up this whole fantasy and reality is disappointing?”
“Then he’s an idiot for disappointing you,” Declan says firmly. “And you’re brilliant enough to recover and find someone who actually deserves you. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because anyone who actually knows you—really knows you—would be insane not to fight to keep you,” Declan says, and realizes too late that he’s said too much, revealed too much of the confusing tangle of feelings he’s developed for this woman who’s supposed to be his enemy.
Keiko stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression, and Declan thinks she’s about to say something important when her phone buzzes in her hand.
She glances at it and her entire expression shifts—softening into something that looks like anticipation and anxiety and hope all mixed together.
“I really have to go,” she says, and she’s already moving toward the exit. “Good luck on Saturday, O’Sullivan. I hope she’s everything you’re hoping for.”
“You too,” Declan calls after her. “I hope he’s worth the risk.”
Keiko pauses in the doorway, looking back at him with an expression Declan will spend the rest of the night trying to decipher. “So do I.”
When she’s gone, Marcus appears at Declan’s elbow with a knowing smirk. “That looked cozy. I thought you two hated each other?”
“We do,” Declan says, but it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears. “That was just… a temporary truce. For networking purposes.”
“Right,” Marcus says in a tone that suggests he doesn’t believe a word. “Networking. Is that what we’re calling eye-fucking now?”
“We were not—” Declan starts, but Marcus is already walking away laughing, and Declan’s left standing at the bar trying to figure out when his feelings about Keiko Tanaka shifted from professional rivalry to something far more complicated.
That night, talking to SunnyDayDreamer about Saturday’s upcoming meeting, Declan can’t stop thinking about the way Keiko played with her ring when she was nervous, and how SunnyDayDreamer mentioned weeks ago that she has her grandmother’s ring that she twists when she’s thinking.
He thinks about Keiko’s admission that she talks to her mystery man every night until she falls asleep, and how SunnyDayDreamer has started sending him goodnight messages with timestamps that suggest she’s drifting off mid-conversation.
He thinks about how both women are meeting someone on Saturday afternoon, and how both of them are terrified it won’t live up to the fantasy, and how both of them described their connection in almost identical terms.
“What if you’re someone I already know?” SunnyDayDreamer had asked last week, and Declan had deflected because the thought was too terrifying to contemplate.
But now, lying in bed and replaying his conversation with Keiko, Declan can’t quite shake the growing suspicion that the universe might be playing the world’s most elaborate practical joke on him.
It’s not possible.
Keiko Tanaka is the Ice Queen, his professional nemesis, the woman who destroys him in investor meetings and looks at him like he’s an obstacle to overcome.
SunnyDayDreamer is warm and vulnerable and perfect in all the ways that matter.
They can’t be the same person.
Can they?
Reader Reactions