Page 117 of Dead Set on You
Rafael’s gaze turns quizzical. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Far from it,I should say. Instead, I nod. “Yeah, totally fine.” The pressure in my chest would disagree. “I … there’s some things I wanted to talk about, and I know this is probably not the best time, given …” I gesture to the door behind him. “But I couldn’t wait.” I shake my head. “But it could, I guess. If you have to go back.”
Any amusement flickers out of his gaze, replaced by concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just …”That I have no clue what the hell I’m doing.But maybe I do? Because this may be scarier and bigger than any dream or goal I’ve ever pursued. Or any account I’ve prepared for. Years of research have gone into this moment—into learning about and understanding Rafael. This pitch has been hundreds of hours in the making. It all comes down to me—to this moment, to my delivery—to bring it home.
I dig my fingers into my clutch as if I’m siphoning the courage I need for this next part.
“I’m not good at this part, Raf, but I am good at making plans and checklists. It makes me feel in control in a world where very little actually is. Those plans keep me focused and offer me stability, because checking off the boxes means forward motion, and that’s what I’ve done for years, moving forward and running. From my mother and past, from nightmares and heartache.” I breathe out shakily, then smile the way you would if you were chewing glass. “Running brought me to Media Lab, where I could make money to ensure my future, and this made my jobeverything. So maybe you can understand that I saw you as a threat after the Betton situation.” Saying the name no longer makes meangry or hurt. “But I was so wrong, because while I saw you as a threat, you were also a constant. You were always there, pushing me, even if you knew it or not. Helping me move forward.”
Rafael’s features are inscrutable. My heart stutters.
This is a pitch meeting, I remind myself, and keep plowing ahead. “I would never have admitted this out loud to a living soul—including myself—but I looked forward to seeing you—the back-and-forth, our stupid contests, the way you always questioned whether I had some secret agenda before a big client meeting or outing.”
I huff a laugh when I think of all the times Rafael skipped office meals in advance of client meetings in case I had messed with his food or checked his golf clubs to make sure I hadn’t swapped his for others.
“You were also the last person I saw in the office a lot of those nights. In some strange way, there was comfort—security—in knowing you were there, and I didn’t realize how much that meant until I spent those days with you and everything suddenly came into focus. How you could pull me out of my head and make me slow down. How you could calm me down or make me laugh. You were there in more ways than I knew I needed. Even at the end, you—” My voice wavers, but I keep going.
“You were comforting me, taking care of me, and making melive, and the worst part is I didn’t realize until that night in the lake that I had it all wrong. You’d never been a threat to anything. You wereit—somehow you’d become stability and survival.” Tears burn the backs of my eyes and throat. I sniff. “The realization scared the shit out of me … because the last time someone was stability and survival for me, they were taken from me, and it hurt for a really long time.” I flick a tear away. “I realized too late you’d been there all along, and I only had to stop running long enough to see it. I would call myself smart, but clearly, I haven’t been very smart at all.”
Rafael watches me with his dark eyes, giving me no indication of whether the pitch is working or if he thinks I’ve permanently messed up my head. But it’s too late to turn back.
“That morning at the hospital, I came to tell you how I felt, but when you told me Margot was there, it threatenedeverything. And I was so hurt that it was easier to go back to how it all was before. To see it as another betrayal. To push you away and hurt you back.”
Another tear escapes. Rafael’s eyes shutter, like he’s closing up, like I should probably leave.
Be brave,Post-Coma Evie whispers.
I continue, “When I woke up at the hospital, I didn’t remember any of those days as a spirit, or whatever the hell I was, but I felt different—altered in some inexplicable way—and it took a couple weeks for me to put it together and understand this fullness in my chest.” I huff a tearful laugh. “Sure, I lost my memory, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.Someonewas missing. So here I am, on this incredibly special night for you, doing an incredibly stupid thing, because that’s this new version of Evie Pope.”
Post-Coma Evie cheers.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment when he’s quiet a second too long. But then he pushes from the door, taking a step toward me. My heart throws itself against my rib cage when he draws near and stops inches away. “To be clear, I’m the someone?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“Making sure it wasn’t Rabbi Steve or something,” he says, his hands in his pockets. Depriving me of them.
I chuckle, swiping at my face. “If anything, it was Doug. All that hair.”
Rafael grins, then takes a measured breath. “I have to say some things to you too—things I’ve wanted to say for a long time but never found the time for.” There’s an unsteady edge in his voice, beneath all his confidence, that makes my chest go tight.
“Okay,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“This is going to sound insane,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “But I think … I think this was all my fault.”
“What do you mean?” I gape at him, surprised. Confused.
“The accident.”
I blink, unsure if I’ve heard him. “Raf—that’s ridiculous.”
His gaze locks with mine, and there’s something unguarded in his expression, something that makes my breath hitch and halt. “That night … we had an argument. You were furious I didn’t follow the plan, and I was frustrated because you were fixated on that instead of us winning the account … and you wouldn’t stop to listen. And I tried to stop you, but not hard enough. I let you go, thinking we’d pick things up tomorrow, thinking you’d be there.” His jaw clenches. “And then you weren’t.”
My chest feels too small for my lungs and heart.
“I didn’t sleep for days,” he admits. “I ran through that night on repeat, thinking about how I could have done it all differently, wishing I could take it all back.Allof it.” Tears blur my vision. I blink them away. “And the worst part? I still couldn’t let you go. Even after the doctors said there wasn’t much they could do, even when I sat there, looking at you, knowing I’d have to say goodbye, I just couldn’t.”
