But could I? Should I trust anyone? Had there ever been a time in my life when trust had not ended in disappointment? And why should Eli be different? “Why would you . . . why would you even do this for me?”
He finally let go of my arm, and for a split second I wondered if he was, at last, fed up. Done with me. But it was less than a heartbeat, and then he was close again, hands cradling my face, thumbs swiping my cheeks, eyes tethered to mine. “Why do you think, Rue?”
I blinked at him, letting his question float through my head, unable to grasp the answer that was right in front of me. He watched me patiently, waiting for a response, any response. And when none came, I saw something fade behind his eyes.
He leaned in, tipping his forehead against mine, and the closeness was heaven. “Would you like a story, Rue?”
I instantly nodded. I needed something—anything—that would help me understand.
“Hark and Minami broke up over ten years ago, but he never got over her. Never. I simply could not understand why he wouldn’t move on after she so clearly had. ‘Could not be me,’ I thought. I was so sure. And then, Rue, I met you. And you casually cracked my life into before and after you.” His lips curved. For a moment he looked genuinely happy. “Out of all the people I’ve met, the things I’ve wanted, the places I’ve been, none has ever felt as necessary as you do. Because I love you. I love you in a way I didn’t think I was capable of. I love you because you showed me how to fall in love. And I don’t regret it, Rue. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if you can never say it back. Even if you never think about me again after today. Even if you were right after all, and you’re not capable of love.”
He let go of me, and we were back to the cliff. Except that my hand had slipped from Eli’s, and I was free-falling. Already broken, or soon to be.
“Isn’t this the most tragic story you’ve ever heard?”
I couldn’t find my words, but it didn’t matter. He left the conference room with a single nod that felt like the deepest of farewells, and I stood still for a long, long time, trying to convince my body to remember how to breathe.
37
THE FRIENDS WE MADE ALONG THE WAY
ELI
Minami found him sitting on one of the swinging chairs on the back porch, the ones Maya had bought at a yard sale and restored the previous summer, when she’d been between undergrad and her master’s and had wanted a relaxing craft project to free her mind. The sun was on the verge of setting, a blend of blue and gold and orange hues, and Eli thought it a fitting way to bookend this long, messy, poignant day in which so many things had come to a close.
“Isn’t it too disgustingly hot to be outside?” Minami asked.
He tipped his bottle at her and smiled. “Beer’s nice and cool.”
“God, I’m jealous.”
“Have one, too.”
“Can’t.”
“Yeah, you can. They’re in the fridge.”
“No, Eli. I can’t.”
He frowned, confused. Then it dawned on him all at once, and his eyes bugged out of his face. “Holy shit.”
“Yup.”
“Are you really—”
“Yup, yup.”
“When did you—shit. When you were sick, you weren’t really—”
“Nope. Well, I was puking my heart out. Just not for the reason you thought.”
He hadn’t thought it possible, not after the last few hours, but happy laughter burst out of him. He stood, enveloping Minami in a bear hug. “Jesus. Wow.”
“We’re so happy,” she said against his T-shirt.
“I bet.” He shook his head, amazed. “You’re going to be fantastic parents. Obnoxious, too.”
“I know. And you’re going to be a great uncle who constantly spoils her and undermines our authority.”
Her. Minami couldn’t possibly know yet, but he liked the idea. “I would settle for no less.” He drew back. Took in her smile and shining eyes. “We should celebrate. How about a cold beer?”
“Fuck off.” She plopped on his chair, sighing in pleasure as she sank into the soft cushions.
“I think Maya has root beer somewhere.”
“Oh. Do you have vanilla ice cream?”
“Maybe?”
“I would give my firstborn for a float.”
“Nah.” Eli waved her off. “Keep her.”
Five minutes later he came back with the first float he’d made in over two decades. Minami accepted it with a smile, and as he pulled up another chair, she asked, “Guess how pissed Hark is?”
“About the baby?”
“Oh, he doesn’t know about that yet.”
“Planning to put off telling him until you’re in labor in Harkness’s gender-neutral restrooms?”
“Only if he walks in while she’s crowning. Guess how pissed he is about the deal we made with Florence?”
Eli exhaled. “I’m assuming he’s sharpening his kitchen knives.”
“And you’d be correct.”
He took the first sip of a fresh beer. Work was going to be shit for a while.
“Unfortunately, he’s not showing it,” Minami continued. “I wish he raged at me a bit. Or called me names. Told me I’m a traitor, that I took away his one motivation in life, that I deserve what Florence took from me. You know, the kind of over-the-top dramatic shit he always spouts when he becomes angry and his accent gets unintelligible.”
“I’m familiar,” he said dryly.
“But he’s just sourpussing. Icily polite. Like when I told him Sul and I were going to get married? I was bracing for an explosion, and what I got was a four-hundred-dollar toaster.”
“What the fuck?” Eli lifted his eyebrow. “Is it encrusted with diamonds?”
“No. It looks like the twenty-five-dollar toaster I had in grad school.”
“Fuck capitalism, man.” He snorted. “Don’t worry, this time around it wasn’t your doing. I’m the one who put Rue before Kline. It’s me he’s pissed at.”
“I was the deciding vote, though. I sided with you.” She sucked an impressive amount of sludge through her straw. “How did you know that I would, by the way?”
The thing was, he hadn’t. Not before Hark had asked them to put the matter to a vote. What he had known was that Rue stood to lose something that meant the world to her, and he wasn’t willing to accept that without a fight. “You know what I think?” he said.
“What?”
“That what nearly happened to Rue was so similar to what Florence did to us, I’m not sure he’d have allowed it, either. He tries to play the part of the asshole, but . . . I can’t see him living with that.”
“You think he counted on us to overrule him?”
Eli shrugged.
“Wow. He’s such a shithead.”
“I can’t prove it.”
“Such an alleged shithead.”
Eli laughed, and a comfortable silence descended, filled by cicadas and slurping sounds. Until she asked quietly, “Do we have a deal?”
He nodded. “The lawyers are writing it up.”
“Do tell.”
“Florence won’t be selling the patent, or any other company asset. The patent will be Rue’s. In exchange, we’ll forgive the loan, and get a sixty percent equity in Kline. The other investors keep thirty-five.”