Page 91 of Not in Love

I looked up from the file. Eli was back inside the car.

“What is this?” I asked him.

His eyes fell on the papers in my hands. On the page to which they were open. “Fuck, Rue.”

“It was in your glove compartment.”

“Shit.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Shit.” “Eli, what is this?”

“It’s a deposition.”

“When was Florence deposed ?” I asked—then realized I could find out on my own. I checked the date on the front page and gasped. About two weeks ago. “Journal club. The day you were at Kline, and I . . .” I shook my head, incapable of making sense of anything. “Who—who gave you the right to depose her?”

He massaged his eyes. “State court. There were irregularities in the documents she turned over, and we asked for an oral—”

“It says here that she knew you, before. Ten years ago. Is it true?”

He hesitated. “Rue.” His tone was gentle. “It’s a legal deposition. She was under oath.”

“But she told me . . .” I shook my head, feeling as though the planet were spinning too fast for me. “Today she told me that . . .”

Eli’s expression softened. Pity, I thought. That’s what it was. “Let’s discuss this at home. I didn’t want you to find out this way. This is a very complicated—”

“No. No, I—Florence lied to me.” My eyes burned, and my chest was on fire. “And you—why didn’t you . . . Why did no one . . .” I shook my head and opened the door of the car.

Eli’s hand closed around my wrist. “Rue, wait—”

“No. I—no.” I freed my hand and wiped my cheek. My palm was fully dry. “I don’t want to—I’m sick of this. Do not follow me, or I swear to god—”

“Rue, let me—”

I got out of the car and let my fury swallow me.

26

TAKE STOCK OF YOUR SHITTY, SOLITARY LIFE

RUE

On Tuesday morning I called in, saying that I didn’t feel well and I’d work from home.

Tisha texted me at 9:00 a.m. (You okay? Also, did I lose Diego’s house keys in your car?) and I replied, Yes, and yes.

Florence texted me at noon (Hope you feel better soon), and I did not reply at all.

She was my friend, and I wasn’t going to write her off for lying to me. After all, I was a liar, too. I’d lied to Florence about Eli for weeks, even after she’d given me multiple opportunities to come clean, and I’d felt like shit every time. I’d had my reasons, and it was entirely possible that Florence had hers.

But I needed to understand what exactly she’d lied about. And it was obvious that both she and Eli had withheld the truth from me, and that neither of them could be trusted on this matter. It left me with limited options.

I decided not to bring Tisha into this until I had a complete picture, which meant that it would have to live exclusively in my head for a while. I had breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Wrote what felt like thousands of work emails. Worked on my patent’s paperwork. Noticed that some of my seedlings had germinated, and transplanted them into the hydroponic system, taking care to submerge the fragile roots with nutrients.

Then, around 7:00 p.m., there was a knock at the door. The super, I thought, checking on my AC vents like I’d asked. But a last-minute instinct prodded me to look through the peephole.

My brother was pacing outside my door, a stack of papers rolled up in his hand.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped back as quietly as possible, ready to pretend not to be home.

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