Page 47 of Not in Love

“Rue, if he’s done anything to you, I swear to god—”

“No, he hasn’t. He . . . I haven’t seen him.”

Liar. Liar. Ungrateful, blatant liar.

“Okay, good.” She seemed relieved. “I can tell you’re worrying about me and Kline, Rue, but don’t, okay? Not worth your time. Just focus on the science.”

Her compassion and protectiveness intensified my guilt. I tried to imagine how I would feel if Florence slept with some guy who was trying to steal my patent, and the magnitude of the betrayal was staggering. I’d fucked up, knowingly. Selfishly. And I was going to have to deal with the shame of it, and the knowledge that being with Eli had been so . . .

It didn’t matter.

By Thursday I’d managed a decent night of sleep, and on Friday I was back on track. Kline’s blue hallways felt less like the open sea, full of ambushing, flesh-mangling sharks, and more like a tranquil pond in which the height of excitement was figuring out who’d started a fire in Lab D.

Then a heron dove in.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tisha asked at lunch, after I told her about the letter. “Your brother does not have his shit together enough to have a lawyer.”

“Apparently he does.”

“Is he suing you?”

“No. It’s a letter of demand.”

“What does it say?”

I moved my penne around the plate. “That under Indiana law, if two parties are in disagreement, the court can order the sale of the property.”

“Is it true?”

“According to my lawyer, yes.”

“Who’s your lawyer?”

“Google.”

“Bullshit. Nyota’s your lawyer. My bitchy sister will take care of your shitty brother. It’s like poetry, it rhymes.”

I smiled. “I don’t even know why I’m being so stubborn about this cabin.”

“I do.” Tisha leaned forward. “I don’t need a psych minor to know that now that your relationships with your mom and your brother have irreparably broken down, you want to connect with some part of your family, and the cabin is all that’s left of your dad.”

“I’m not usually this sentimental, though.” I tilted my head. “And you minored in computer science and French.”

“Exactly my point.”

Later in the afternoon, I was returning from a quality assurance meeting when I saw them.

Saw him.

Eli stood at the end of the hallway, wearing glasses once again, head hung low as he focused on what Minami Oka was saying, something private and exclusive about the way they bent toward each other. He raised one eyebrow in that manner that was imprinted in my brain, and Dr. Oka laughed and pretended to punch him on the arm, and—

I walked away, heat rising up my throat.

He was there, again. On Harkness business. Laughing, as though the terrible things they were doing to Kline, to us, were just a joke. I sat at my desk for several minutes as every moment, every second, every touch and hitched breath and heated look from last Saturday raked through me like nails down my back. I’d had him. Why did I still want him? What was I supposed to—

A knock on the doorframe. “Dr. Siebert? Hi.”

Shit. “Hi.”

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