Page 122 of Not in Love

I shrugged and walked out, thinking that she was wrong. Thinking about Eli.

I had lunch with Tisha, and by common agreement we didn’t mention Florence once. We’d spent days dissecting every single red flag, every missed clue, every misstep, and we were exhausted. Two hours later, while finishing up a report for Matt, I received an email from Kline’s HR, letting me know that I was being terminated starting the following week.

Because your position has been terminated, you are eligible for a severance package that amounts to one month’s worth of salary for each year you worked.

I sat back in my chair, staring at Tisha’s calendar. For the first time since finding out about what Florence had done, I allowed a splinter of sadness to pierce through my anger. I’d lost a friend, when I had very few to spare to begin with.

I care about you, too, Florence.

I left my desk at five o’clock. In the parking lot, while rummaging through my bag for a pair of sunglasses, I heard someone call my name. Minami was leaning against the bumper of a green Volkswagen beetle, and my single, all-obscuring, fight-or-flight reaction to seeing her was: Eli.

Eli, Eli, Eli.

It was like a burst of fire through my veins, a jolting reminder of what I’d been trying to come to terms with for the better part of a week. My hands trembled, and I stuffed them in the back pockets of my jeans.

“Hi!” Minami grinned. “How are you?”

It took a moment for me to calm down enough to say, “Good. You?”

“Good! I’m not going to take up too much of your time, but I wanted to give you this.” She held out a document folded in a plastic case. I accepted, but must have looked confused, because she explained, “It’s a contract that details your payment plan for the other half of your house. House? It was a house, right? I forget. Anyway, we had our lawyers get in touch with your . . . brother? I once again forget.”

My pulse fluttered in my throat. “What does it mean?”

“Well, nothing if you don’t sign it. But our legal team worked as a mediator, found estimators, and made sure you could reach an agreement for a payment plan. Same thing you’d have gotten around to doing eventually.”

“How?”

She shrugged, like real estate jurisprudence was as obscure as necromancy to her. “We have really good lawyers. And they’re on the payroll anyway. We might as well make use of them. It’ll save you time and money. And no, Eli didn’t tell me the story behind all this. I’m not all up in your business.”

“Did he ask you to do this?”

It was a stupid question, but Minami didn’t point it out. “He didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, or make you think that you owe him something or feel pressured into . . . dating him? Going with him to sex clubs? Not sure what you guys have been up to.”

I frowned, thinking that if Eli thought that I could be pressured into dating someone, perhaps he didn’t know me. Minami laughed. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Just, he said something like, ‘Not that she’s the type who can be pressured into doing anything she doesn’t want to,’ and your face tells me he probably was right, and . . .” Minami laughed some more, and waved her hand.

“I know what you did,” I said.

“What I did?”

“Harkness. The loan forgiveness. It was a trade for my patent, wasn’t it? You let Florence stay on as CEO. You gave up your advantage so that I could keep my patent.”

“Well, yes. But also . . .” Minami sighed. “We have the board. And we’re free of this horrible thing that happened ten years ago. We did get closure, and maybe it wasn’t the perfect circle we thought we’d be getting—more like a very squiggly line. We can all move on, and I don’t mind that, not at all.”

“Thank you, then.” I looked down at the contract, which was probably the only closure I’d get with Vince. A messy, squiggly line indeed. But maybe I could move on. “And thank you for this.”

“No problem. Just let the lawyers know if you’re okay with it and they’ll finalize it.”

I nodded, and closed my eyes, thinking about Eli asking his lawyers to do this. On the phone after hours, sitting at the table in his kitchen with Tiny curled at his feet. Saying, I have a . . . friend. Who might need help. Eli worrying. Eli caring enough to—

“You okay?” Minami asked.

“Yeah. Is he . . . ?”

“Eli?” Minami hesitated. “Not at his best, but he’ll be fine. I’m not telling you any of this to make you feel bad. I know what it’s like when someone you care about is in love with you and you can’t reciprocate the feeling. It’s messy, and you feel guilty, and—”

“That’s not it,” I blurted out. It was so uncharacteristic, this unsanctioned exit of words from my mouth, that I almost couldn’t recognize my voice. “That’s not what it is,” I added, outwardly calmer. The inside of me was burning with sudden, petrifying heat.

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