RUE

Eli woke up at dawn, cursed softly, and gently disentangled from me.

I didn’t pretend to be dead to the world, but made the semiconscious choice to keep my eyes closed and drift back to sleep. The last thing I remembered was his weight dipping the edge of the mattress. He lingered, perhaps looking at me. Then he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned forward to gently kiss my forehead. Tired, comfortable, maybe even a little happy, I dozed off once again, lulled by the rustle of Eli pulling his clothes back on.

I didn’t wake up until several hours later, when I stumbled into the kitchen and pawed around for a mug and the coffee maker, then stopped in my tracks when I spotted the note, written on my latest unopened IRA envelope.

He’d circled my middle name on the address box (Chastity, the bane of my already plenty-baned existence), and placed three exclamation points on its right, which made my eyes roll and my lips curve. Underneath, he’d written:

Call me if you need me.

And then, right below, scribbled more hastily, as though he’d decided to add something when he was already halfway out of the door:

Call me even if you don’t.

My heart thumped, and I allowed myself to think about the previous night. I waited for the shame to catch up and crash into me, a wave of pure mortification, but it never came. I’d told Eli my worst story. And he didn’t seem to care.

A magnetic pen that read kline in blue letters and usually resided on my fridge sat next to the envelope, reminding me of what I’d have to do today.

I called in to work again, this time to take a day off. I got dressed for the record heat, grabbed my car keys, and headed out.

30

I GUESS THIS IS REVENGE

ELI

When Anton’s head peeped in the doorway to announce, “Someone’s here to see Hark,” Eli nodded without bothering to lift his eyes from the financial statement he was studying—until Minami, who sat right next to him on the stupid exercise ball she insisted on using in lieu of a chair, asked, “Is it a visibly pregnant woman holding a homemade DNA test kit?”

“I . . .” Anton shifted on his feet. “This feels like a problematic question.”

“I am a problematic person. Is it?”

“Um, no?”

“Okay. Just asking, because you’re making a really weird face.”

“What face?”

“Like you’re expecting trouble.”

“Yes. Well, no. But this woman came in, asked to talk with Hark, and when I pointed out that she didn’t have an appointment, she told me her name and said, ‘He’ll want to see me.’ Which seemed weird and kinda . . . movie-like?”

“Very movie-like,” Minami agreed with an intrigued bounce on the ball.

Eli felt a prickle of unease at the base of his neck. “What’s the woman’s name, Anton?”

“It’s . . .” He squinted at the Post-it in his hand. “Rue Siebert. Her ID checked out.”

Eli and Minami exchanged a long, teeming look.

“Tell her that Hark will be right out,” Eli instructed.

“But Hark’s on his way back from Seattle—”

“I am aware.” He held Anton’s eyes.

“Tell her anyway.”

Minami waited for them to be alone before asking, “Why is she looking for Hark and not you?”

There was a single logical answer. “She wants to ask him about Florence.”

“What?”

“He indirectly mentioned Florence at dinner the other night. Rue wants to know more, and she thinks he’ll tell her.”

“But why wouldn’t she ask you?”

Why, indeed.

He’d been expecting her to dig into the matter, ever since she’d found the file in his car. Last night he’d been tempted to bring up the deposition and tell Rue the whole sordid story, but there had been no room for that between them. Still, he thought they’d made some progress when it came to trusting each other.

And the fact that she’d rather get answers from Hark . . . Eli did not like that.

“Maybe you should wait till Hark’s back,” Minami said. “So the burden of breaking her pretty little Florence-loving heart won’t fall on you.”

“If her heart has to be broken, I’d rather it be me. That way I can help her pick up the pieces.”

“Then go ahead and tell her. If it’s not one of us, it’ll be Florence—and as we can all attest, she’s a remarkable liar. She could turn Rue against you, and then you’d lose her.”

“Lose her?” He snorted. “Do you think I have her now?”

She scanned his face. “I think you want her.”

“Yeah. I also want world peace and for my dog to live forever.”

“Come on, Eli. I’ve seen you with Mac. I’ve seen you with lots of truly amazing girls.”

“Women.”

“Oh my fucking—we’ve been joined at the hip for the past ten years, Eli.”

He shook his head and turned off his monitor, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I’ve never seen you like this, Eli.”

He stopped mid-action. Resumed. “Like what?”

“When she’s around, and even when she isn’t, you’re distracted and you moon and you—have you told her how you feel?”

Jesus. “Minami, she is . . . very hurt, and very emotionally unavailable. I don’t think she’s ready for that kind of conversation.” But last night, a hopeful voice whispered in his head. He’d inched closer to discussing feelings with her than ever before, and she hadn’t kicked him out of her apartment. “If I’m not careful—if I don’t pace this just right, she’s going to run. I need to take it slowly.”

Minami looked at him with something that could have been pity. “You don’t look like you want to take it slowly.”

He rose, mostly to avoid screaming I fucking know I don’t at one of his closest friends, whose advice and care he valued. “Any more pearls of wisdom, Dr. Phil?”

“Just be careful. That’s all.”

He took off his glasses and headed down the sleek hallway, nodding at two junior analysts and an intern. When he strode into the lobby, Rue sat on one of the leather couches, hands in her lap, legs neatly folded at a ninety-degree angle. Her posture was impeccable, unfidgety and calm as ever within the chaos of the world around her. It reminded him of the first time he’d seen her, at that hotel bar. He had a couple of seconds to observe her before she noticed him, and used them to the very last drop, drinking her in like she was the end of a century-long drought.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed him. He could sense it between them like a physical object, the awareness of this ever-deepening connection between them. But Rue instantly lowered her gaze, as if to sweep it—sweep him—away.

Have you told her how you feel?

Out of the blue, Eli felt anger. Abrupt, intense, bottomless anger, equally directed at Rue and himself. Her presence in his life and in his head was uninvited. The power she held over him, he had never meant to yield it. Which meant that she must have taken it without his permission. Robbed him of it. And after everything that had happened between them last night, she’d chosen to go not to him, but to Hark. That was the degree of trust that she afforded him.

“Follow me,” he ordered without hiding the edge in his tone. She rose slowly, but Eli didn’t check whether she was keeping up. He led her to his office, noted with relief that Minami was gone, and closed the door.

All he could feel was resentment.

He wanted her so much. So. Fucking. Much. Every time he saw her, fucked her, smelled her, he wanted a bit more. He wanted to make her twelve-course lunches, hold her down, build her a research lab. He wanted everything, including things that made no sense, things that should not go together.