“Well, Hark is probably going to need a couple of weeks of cooling down before any more consensual by-standing occurs.”

“Up to a month. But the point is, everything she has can be taken from her. While we have built something that—”

“Please don’t say that the real equity in the biofuel tech was the friends we made along the way.”

He set his beer on the small glass table and locked eyes with her. “Minami, I’m going to ask you to get off my porch and go fuck right off.”

She let out a sound that Eli could only describe as a cackle. “Sul says I’m funny.”

“Sul’s more whipped than a bowl of mashed potatoes.”

“Don’t you whisk those?”

“Maybe?”

“McKenzie would know.”

“She would.”

“I’ll text her. Also, he’s only whipped because I’m funny.”

“I’ve never once seen him laugh.”

“And that’s the reason he’s in love with me and not with you. I make him laugh. In the privacy of our home.”

Eli shook his head. Rue made him laugh, too. She made him eager to do unspeakable things for just one more minute with her. She made him crave that comfortable, expansive silence between them. Rue made him stop and think, and above all she made him yearn like he’d not thought himself capable of, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life cataloging the ways she shouldn’t have been right for him, and yet still managed to be perfect.

Rue eviscerated him and made him anew. And if she didn’t want the product of that . . .

Well. That was for him to accept.

“If you had asked me two weeks ago, I’d have told you that the only happy ending to our story was with Florence out of Kline. But now . . .” Minami’s lips curved in a small smile, her profile as familiar to him as his sister’s. “We control the board—and the tech. I think the way things turned out might be for the best.”

“Yeah?”

“We started Harkness out of revenge, and we let spite fuel us. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret our multi-presidential-term revenge plot. But we have accomplished so much more and—”

“Gained friends along the way?”

She punched his arm. “We make really good money. We get to work with amazing scientists and help them develop amazing shit. And fine, yes, we have each other. Maybe it’s not what we’d envisioned, but it’s good.” Her eyes gleamed suspiciously. “And now you have Rue.”

Eli glanced at the sun sinking into the sycamore trees. “If Rue is ever ready or willing to be had.”

“We all have shit to work through. It’s just a matter of time.”

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.”

I shrugged and walked out, thinking that she was wrong. Thinking about Eli.

I had lunch with Tisha, and by common agreement we didn’t mention Florence once. We’d spent days dissecting every single red flag, every missed clue, every misstep, and we were exhausted. Two hours later, while finishing up a report for Matt, I received an email from Kline’s HR, letting me know that I was being terminated starting the following week.

Because your position has been terminated, you are eligible for a severance package that amounts to one month’s worth of salary for each year you worked.

I sat back in my chair, staring at Tisha’s calendar. For the first time since finding out about what Florence had done, I allowed a splinter of sadness to pierce through my anger. I’d lost a friend, when I had very few to spare to begin with.

I care about you, too, Florence.

I left my desk at five o’clock. In the parking lot, while rummaging through my bag for a pair of sunglasses, I heard someone call my name. Minami was leaning against the bumper of a green Volkswagen beetle, and my single, all-obscuring, fight-or-flight reaction to seeing her was: Eli.

Eli, Eli, Eli.

It was like a burst of fire through my veins, a jolting reminder of what I’d been trying to come to terms with for the better part of a week. My hands trembled, and I stuffed them in the back pockets of my jeans.