I’d asked Nyota the very same question that very morning, and received an only mildly disdainful response. Or maybe Nyota just came across as nicer via email. “They oversee. Make strategic decisions.”
“You’ve been reading. Nice.”
“Quite patronizing of you.”
“No, I . . .” He gave me a surprised look. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention. But I did have the impression that you don’t concern yourself with anything admin related.” I didn’t like how correctly he had me pegged. I was in the industry for the science, and the games of thrones were beyond my pay grade. “Regardless of what you think of Harkness,” he continued softly, palm flexing on my back, “there’s no denying that CEOs need accountability and oversight from people with relevant experience.”
“Kline is Florence’s company. She knows what’s best for it. People like Eric Sommers know nothing about science.”
“No. But it’s not just about Florence and her petri dishes anymore, is it? Kline has a staff of three hundred and sixty-four.”
“And?”
“One bad decision can take away the paychecks of three hundred and sixty-four families.”
I couldn’t disagree with that. But I also knew Florence, whose actions were rational and well thought out. I wished she could be here to list them for Eli.
As if she’d been summoned, my phone buzzed with a text. “Excuse me,” I told him, slipping it out of my pocket.
Florence: You okay? I’m stuck with Sommers and his wife. Pls tell me Eli Killgore is not harassing you.
Rue: I’m fine. Eli and I are just making stilted conversation.
Florence: Just excuse yourself and walk away from him. He CANNOT be trusted.
I know, I thought, and suddenly the hall was suffocatingly hot. “I need some air,” I said.
Eli pointed somewhere I couldn’t quite see, and when I hesitated, his hand found my lower back and pressed forward, guiding me firmly through the throng, out to a stone balcony. It gave onto a small courtyard, and a pool, and what looked like—
“Fuckin’ golf courses,” Eli muttered. A laugh bubbled out of me, clearing my head. For once, the temperature was bearable, the night balmy and cool on my skin. Muffled through the glass doors, even the music seemed almost palatable. I leaned against the wall, tilting my head to take in the starry sky. Eli did the same with the high railing, facing me. He looked idle, but I knew he was not, and the app’s checklist flashed in my mind.
Kinks? a box asked, and he’d answered, If negotiated.
I was dying to know more about all of that. But Florence was right—he couldn’t be trusted.
“Has your brother been leaving you alone?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Do you have a contingency plan in case he shows up at your apartment, or at Kline, or at your gym?” His voice was gruff. Like he wished he hadn’t been asking, but couldn’t help himself.
“Can’t believe I fooled you into thinking that I’m the gym type.” It was a half-baked attempt at teasing, the kind he’d responded well to during our first meeting, but his expression was serious. A strict lab supervisor, demanding to know why my bacteria culture was suddenly giant-blobbing all over the city. “I’ve asked a friend—who’s a lawyer—what my options are. I don’t have a plan, though.”
“Make one,” he ordered. And then shook his head, massaged his eyes, and repeated more gently, “Maybe you should make one.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You need someone to call if—”
“What about I call you?” I joked.
“Yes, please. Please, fucking do that. Do you want my number now, or . . . ?” He stared, waiting for an answer. And then his eyes softened. The breeze picked up between us, and he kept looking, looking, looking.
Looking.
“It’s unsettling when you do that,” I said softly.
He turned away, chest heaving. “I’m sorry.” His Adam’s apple moved. “I forget to look at other things, when you’re around.”
“I’m sure I do the same.” I feel it, too.
He huffed out a silent laugh. “Has this happened to you before?”
I shook my head in a first, instinctive reply, then forced myself to slow down and think about it. I’d been attracted to men before, but attraction had seemed like a conscious choice on my part, a feeling to chase and feed. Generic. The product of focus and cultivation, more than this current that seemed to rejoice in sweeping me under. “Not like this. You?”
“Me, neither.” His long fingers drummed on the metal rail, the rhythm almost meditative. “You know what’s funny? A while ago, I almost got married.”
“Oh.” I pictured the kind of woman someone like Eli might fall for, but my mind could only conjure vaguely alluring traits. Smart. Socially adept. A nice wholesome girl, willing to tame that hungry undercurrent of impatience in him. Proud builder of a solid investment portfolio, able to gently but firmly call him out on his passion for brain-injury-inducing sports at dinner parties. “I’m sorry,” I said, and when he laughed softly, I added, “No—I wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass. But ‘almost got married’ implies that something went wrong.”
“It definitely didn’t work out, but it was for the best. I think she’d agree, too. But since I met you, I’ve been thinking . . .” The sentence fizzled out. Eli glanced toward the city lights. The occasional skyscraper.
“What?”
“I tried to imagine a reality in which she and I had gone through with it. I’m still with her, I love her, we’re a family, and . . . and then I meet you by chance. And this thing between you and me, it’s there.” His eyes roamed the landscape, then landed on me. Contemplative. “I keep thinking about how fucking tragic it would be. For me. For her. I’ve never even been tempted to cheat on a partner, but this pull, it would still be in my head. You would still be in my head. Do you have to go through with it, for it to be cheating? How would I deal with . . . what would I do with all of this?”
He pointed at himself when he said this, but I knew he was referring to the gravitational energy between us. We were both caught in it.
“I think, the same way we’re dealing with it right now,” I said, trying to sound dismissive. Falling short. “Nothing is going to happen between us, even if you’re not married. You’re trying to take over my friend’s company. That’s not something I’ll ever be able to overlook.”
“Yeah.”
But what if this chemistry between us was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? What happened when the person who tore you apart was not the person you’d chosen to cherish? My concept of love was far from idealized, but this still seemed crucifying.
It’s all in your head, I told myself, but it was a lie. It was, at the very least, in both our heads. And now would have been a really good time for some elderly lady wearing an opal brooch to come out and interrupt this conversation, because Eli and I were starting to be absorbed in each other, and a reckless idea was germinating inside me, growing stronger by the second.
“Can I try something?” I asked, barely audible. He heard, though.
“Try what?”
“I’m not sure yet. Can I?”
That half smile again. “Knock yourself out.”
I took a step forward, until the toes of our shoes nearly touched. I remembered the powerful shiver that had raked through me the other night, when I’d pushed up and kissed his cheek. The memory had to be magnifying the real thing, and a do-over would prove it and break the spell.