Page 121 of Not in Love

He said nothing, letting himself feel the tight knot in his throat, the ache that came with not knowing when, if he’d see her again. He’d made his move, and her silent reaction had been loud and clear. Her shocked look when he’d told her that he loved her. Unfortunately, the gap between “not just fucking” and “wanting a relationship” was wider than the Sargasso Sea. “I don’t know.”

Minami reached out and closed her hand around his. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“I swear I’m not trying to be condescending—”

“What a promising start.”

“—but, I know this whole being-madly-in-love thing is new for you, so I’m going to impart a piece of wisdom to you. Ready?”

“Go ahead.”

“No one dies of a broken heart.”

A soft laugh eased out of him. “Good to know, because it fucking hurts.” He let out a deep breath. “There is something I want to do for her. But I’m not sure she’ll accept it if it’s from me.”

Her look was concerned. “I think you’ve done enough, Eli. Shouldn’t you keep just a tiny bit of dignity?” It was a joke, but Eli’s reply was serious.

“I want her to be all right more than I want to keep my dignity.”

“Christ.” Minami gave him an aghast look. “On second thought, you might die from a broken heart.” She drained what was left of her float and set her glass on the table. “Okay, hit me. What do you need this fatigued, overworked, pregnant woman to do for you?”

38

WE ALL HAVE OUR BAGGAGE

RUE

Idelivered my notice letter to Florence in person, the day after

Kline’s lawyers sent me a board-ratified contract that gave me full ownership of my provisional patent. The day after discovering what Eli had given up in exchange.

I didn’t owe Florence a confrontation. However, I remembered what Eli had said about closure. My confidence in my peoplejudging skills was at an all-time low, but if there was anyone I could trust, it was Eli. I knew that now, and I’d known before he’d made it possible for me to hold my new contract in my hands.

I’d fucked up. Big-time. But vulnerability had a time and a place, and a meeting with Florence Kline was less than ideal.

“Do you have anything lined up?” Florence asked me, staring at an undefined spot on my forehead from across her desk. She looked pale. Exhaustion had carved deep lines that bracketed her lips, darkened the circles around her eyes.

“Just interviews. Next week.” I’d lined up four by reaching out to grad school acquaintances, my PhD adviser, a recruiter. I didn’t love change, and switching jobs was never going to be easy for me, but it was unavoidable.

“Good.” Florence nodded. “Do you need references?”

“I put down someone else.”

An infinitesimal wince. “Right.” She rubbed the heel of her palm on her temple. “Am I correct in assuming that Tisha will follow you?”

She was. “You’ll have to ask her.”

She sighed. “Rue. I had no other choice. You gave them the books and put me in the position of having to sell—”

I had no intention of listening to Florence’s justifications, so I stood. “Thank you for everything,” I said, meaning it. “I’ll get back to work. Will you let HR know, or should I?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Her lips thinned. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Rue. I cared about them, and I wouldn’t have hurt them if it hadn’t been absolutely necessary. And I care about you, whether you believe it or not.”

“I believe it. You just care about yourself more, and that’s your right. I’d rather not surround myself with someone who’ll hurt me just to get ahead, and that’s mine.”

Her eyes hardened. “Then there will be no one left to surround yourself with, Rue.”

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