“We need to talk,” I say from the entrance, my only greeting.
He looks up, and his expression is carefully neutral. Professional. Like the past three weeks never happened. Like we didn’t share secrets and touches and futures in the darkness.
“Come in.”
I do, but I don’t sit. This needs to stay professional too. “I’ve been thinking about yesterday,” I start. “About what you said. About how you want to handle the discovery.”
“And?”
“And I can’t work under those conditions. I can’t rush the analysis of the tomb to fit your PR timeline. These remains deserve proper care and study, and that takes time. If you can’t accept that, then…” I take a breath. “Then I need to leave.”
Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before I can identify it. “You’re threatening to quit?”
“I’m setting boundaries. This is my professional expertise, Calvin. You hired me to lead this excavation, and I’m telling you what the work requires. If you can’t trust me to do it right, then there’s no point in me being here.”
“So, it’s your way or nothing?”
The coldness in his voice makes me flinch. “It’s the right way or nothing. There’s a protocol for handling discoveries like this. Standards. Ethics. You can’t just ignore them because you’re impatient.”
“Everything is business, Georgia. The sooner you learn that, the better.”
The words feel like a slap. “Fine,” I say, my voice tight. “Then I’m done. I’ll pack up my things today. You can find someone else to rush through the analysis and get you your headlines.”
I turn to leave, expecting him to call me back. To say he didn’t mean it. To choose me and the work I do over his pride.
“Georgia.”
I stop, hope flaring despite myself.
“Make sure you complete all documentation of your work so far before you go. I’ll need it for the next archaeologist.”
Thank God I have my back to him. The last thing I need right now is him seeing my face fall.
“The next archaeologist,” I repeat numbly.
“Yes. You said yourself—now that we’ve made this discovery, other archaeologists will be interested. Getting someone qualified won’t be difficult.”
I slowly turn to face him. “Right. Of course. The discovery is what matters. Not who makes it.”
“I hired you because you were the best available. But if you’re not willing to work within reasonable parameters?—”
“Reasonable?” The word bursts out. “Reasonable is taking the time to do this right!” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. “You know what? Never mind. You’re right. You’ll find someone else. Someone who doesn’t question your decisions. Someone who’ll give you exactly what you want, when you want it.”
“I’ve been patient,” he grits out through tight teeth, and I notice that there are bags under his eyes.
So, he barely slept either. Good. “That’s not a word I would ever use to describe you,” I quietly say.
He stands, and for a moment I see something like hurt flash across his face. But it’s quickly replaced by cold anger. “I don’t have to justify my decisions to you.Youwork forme, Georgia. Not the other way around.”
The words land like stones in my stomach.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “I work for you. Past tense, actually. I quit.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We stare at each other, and I want to scream. Want to shake him. Want to ask how we got here, how we went fromtangled together in his tent to standing on opposite sides of a professional divide.
