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I don’t know how long later, the door to the conference room opens and Lara steps in, quietly taking my hand and giving me a smile that isn’t nearly as bright as it should be. She’s nervous. About how I’ll take it. What it’ll mean.
I want to pull her into my arms and swing her around to reassure her, but since she’s gone for a limited hand-holding thing here at the office, I restrain myself.
“I’m sorry you had to wait.”
“Nah, I’m fine waiting.” It’s true.
I’d wait years for this woman if it meant that in the end, I got to keep her.
“Well, Fatima told me to take the afternoon off. So….” She trails off, her focus getting lost in some middle space where I can’t quite read what’s going on. But then she’s back with a little shake of her head.
“Elle?”
“Sorry. I”— she searches my eyes and then looks away, and that first stitch of unease threads through my gut —“Just a lot going on this morning. A lot on my mind. I’m fine. Let’s swing past my cube to grab my stuff, and then I’m yours for the rest of the day.”
I squeeze her hand, drawing her closer, wanting her eyes back on mine. Wanting her bright smile. Wanting her to know we’re okay. “Perfect. We can spend it celebrating.”
Her brows furrow. Then she stands a little straighter and I can almost see her arranging her face into a mask of enthusiasm that sets off every alarm I have. “Oh, yes. I— I know I said congrats on that game last night, but I didn’t realize what a big deal it was. Everyone was talking about how you played and that shutout, right?”
What the hell?
22
Lara
Please let me be making the right decision.
I spent the night and then all morning wrestling over what to do. Circling around one way and then circling back the other. And while all I wanted to do was talk to Ben about this, I didn’t feel like I could. Not while he was out of town.
Same with my dad and Fatima. I already know what their opinions will be, and I know that neither one of them will be able to understand the reason this decision isn’t as cut-and-dry as they would like it to be.
I love Ben. I love him like I’ve never loved anyone or anything in my life. And I can’t lose him again, even if it means giving up a professional goal that meant something to me too.
Only now that I’ve made the choice, now that I know what I’m going to tell New York when we have our call tomorrow… there’s something off about the way Ben’s looking at me. And after making what feels like a monumental decision, all I want is to see the same barely banked fire and depth of emotion in his eyes. But it’s not there.
When we get outside, instead of sweeping me into a hug or planting a serious kiss on me, he seems… stiff. Hands going into his pockets instead of my hair. Watching me with this look I can’t quite read but doesn’t feel right.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, great. You?”
“Great.”
We get lunch at this place a couple blocks down from GHW and… more weirdness. My stomach is in knots, and this sense of dread is pooling within me. Because something isn’t right.
We talk, but it feels off and wrong and like something I can’t understand because everything was amazing before my trip.
This week we haven’t been in touch as much as we normally are when he’s on the road. We’ve both been distracted by the demands of our own careers and… I thought we were fine. But now that I’m back, I don’t understand how the space between us that always seems to be evaporating at an exponential rate suddenly feels cold and unyielding. I don’t get why we’re asking the kind of polite, superficial questions we retired from our conversations months ago. Why every time I try to breach that space, he takes a step back and asks me another weirdly polite question.
“So the flight was good.”
“Yep.”
“Terrific.”
God, am I making a mistake? Is Ben even going to want this?
We get home and the weirdness is contagious. There’s window-staring. Him. Me.
