Page 49 of Not in Love

I’d had sex before, good sex. But with him it had been just—

“Rue.”

“Yes?”

His throat worked through a swallow. For a second he seemed—angry, maybe, or something else. For more than a second. But he quickly cycled through the emotion and emerged on the other side with one of his self-assured smiles. “Have a good day,” he said, maybe amused and maybe not. He pushed away from the doorframe and left, his determined steps ricocheting against the walls of the empty hallway, and it wasn’t until I couldn’t hear them anymore that I bent my head and managed to whisper, “You, too.”

13

THE AWFUL, SECRET ONES

RUE

It took about two hours for Eli’s words to stop echoing inside my head. After two more, Florence stopped by to see me.

“What happened at the board meeting?” I asked.

“Not much. Eric bought some of their lies, and they got some concessions, but nothing to worry about. I’ll need to send them some documents in their preferred format.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ll review and find nothing suspicious, because there’s nothing to be found, and everyone’s precious time will be happily wasted.” She shrugged. “At least Harkness promised not to have an on-site presence anymore. Hey, did I see Eli Killgore and Minami Oka loitering around your office earlier?”

“I . . . wasn’t here. I wouldn’t know.”

She left with a wave of her hand and a satisfied smile, and I wondered when the last time was that I’d lied so deliberately to a friend.

Never, I thought, the shame of it sour in my throat. At least, not that I could recall.

If one good thing could be said of Harkness, it was that it kept its promise, because I didn’t see Eli during the following week. His absence from my life—and the absence of the havoc he wreaked in it—felt like a reward for being, if not a good person, someone who returned grocery items to their original places when she changed her mind mid-shopping, even if it was several aisles away.

I went over to Florence’s for Tisha’s birthday dinner, and found her mostly annoyed. “They keep asking for more and more documents, beyond anything that’s reasonable or that has been agreed upon,” Florence said, cutting a slice of cheesecake. The dark circles were back around her eyes. “I’m starting to wonder if they’re using the copies we send them for their kids’ papier-mâché projects.”

I paused with my glass midair, remembering Eli’s words at the retirement party. “Can’t we just give them access to everything? We have nothing to hide, after all.”

“We could, if we believed that they’re acting in good faith. But we know better. Plus, it’s not so simple. A lot of these documents have to be prepared by the accountants. Like I said, a huge time and money pit.”

See, Eli? I knew that Florence had an answer.

“But it doesn’t matter, because I have a plan to get out of this mess.” Her smile was suddenly broad and infectious.

“A plan—I love plans!” Tisha clapped her hands. “Do tell?”

Florence stuck a single candle in Tisha’s slice and handed her a plate. “I’ve been talking to some potential investors. Ideally, they’ll decide to back us and give us the capital to pay off our loan to Harkness.”

“Would Harkness agree to take the money and leave?” I asked, skeptical. Wasn’t their endgame the biofuel?

“They wouldn’t have a choice.”

I imagined a future in which Harkness was out of the picture. What it would do for the constant, low-level buzz of guilt I’d been dealing with, knowing that I hadn’t slept with the guy who might take Florence’s company away from her—I’d slept with the guy who’d failed at it.

I wanted that future so, so bad.

It wasn’t until later that night, while I was adding nutrients to my hydroponic garden, that the implications fully hit me: If Florence succeeded, I might never see Eli Killgore again. The relief was so strong, it felt like something else altogether.

“Do you have any idea how much one of my billable hours costs?” Nyota asked me the next time we FaceTimed. Her phone was propped on her treadmill, and she appeared to be running an easy six-minute mile with barely a puff. I’d been an athlete for half my life, but holy shit.

“Hundreds of dollars, I’d guess.”

“You’d be right. Remind me, why am I consulting for you for free?”

“Because I’ve been holding on to that picture of your goth phase for the last decade?”

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