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“Call the ride.” He refills his own glass and downs another shot, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Big call with the team in Brazil tomorrow.”
I nod and summon Troy a car by app. We don’t talk much, even though I try to wait up with him until it arrives.
By the time it shows up and he slips out, I never hear it.
I’m so drunk and tired I pass out on the couch.
I linger at the office the next day, long after any sane person would be gone, and finally drag myself down to the lab.
If she’s not there, I’ll go to her apartment.
I have to see her.
I have to fix this.
I can’t let it fester like an open wound in my heart.
Of course, she’s there.
Eliza stands over a pot on the grill, her chestnut curls pulled up in a bun, stirring her brew with a contemplative focus.
“Can we talk?” My voice echoes through the empty lab like a cave.
She glances at me over her shoulder. “Whatever. It’s your company.”
She turns her head back to her work like I’m not even there.
Shit. Nobody ever said swallowing your own ego was easy.
“Eliza, I was a jackass,” I say, stepping forward.
“I know. I’ve got a new brew, though. Would you like a taste, Mr. Lancaster?”
I’d like a taste, all right, but not of that stupid coffee.
I’m also not sure what she’s playing at with this non-response.
“Sure,” I say cautiously, stopping near her side.
I wait while she ladles it into a small cup and passes it over. “Let me know how you like it. It’s a Hawaiian blend with sixty percent Kona beans, forty percent Sumatra. For the next Wired Cup line, theoretically, though I’m not sure if that’s economical.”
I blow on it for a second and take a drink.
As usual, what starts as a flavorful cup of joe explodes across my tongue, revealing delicate layers of macadamia nut, coconut, and something fruity.
“Good. It’s not as delicate as the peaberry blend, but it definitely tastes like Kona.”
“I’m glad you think so.” She kills the grill, picks up the pot, and walks across the lab to the sink.
I follow her. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Make what easy, Cole? I don’t even know what you’re doing here if it isn’t checking out the latest products.”
“I came to apologize,” I growl. Isn’t it obvious?
“I’m listening.” She dumps the coffee without looking at me.
“I hate that I freaked out on you, and I’m sorry. Aster’s death is a sore spot. There are still a lot of questions about what happened then, and part of the reason I haven’t told you much about it is because I’m not even sure what I know. I hired a PI recently—”
“When?” She faces me for the first time since I walked in, her eyes slits.
“When we were in Hawaii,” I say flatly.
She frowns, her face screwing up with confusion.
“Jesus. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Don’t know what you mean by that. I planned to tell you everything as soon as I had the right answers. Hell, I made peace with that before our flight back.”
Her face relaxes. “Well, thank you. When were you planning on having this conversation?”
“Not soon enough, obviously. Eliza, it’s no excuse for how I talked to you yesterday—”
“You’re right. It’s not, but that’s not even what I’m upset about.”
I cock my head, staring at her, unsure where she’s going.
“I told you I wasn’t mad,” she says with a sigh. “You lost your wife. Tragically. People don’t just do a cartwheel and bounce back from that. But I—” She turns her head away from me. “I fell for you hard, Cole. Like really hard. I’m not mad at you when it’s not your fault—but I can’t just be a rebound.”
“Rebound?” I spit the putrid word. “Eliza, you are not my fucking rebound.”
She meets my eyes. “But you’re not over her or the past. You still have one foot stuck there, and one in the present. Any relationship you have like that feels doomed to be a rebound...”
“So you’re a relationship shrink now? Didn’t see the medical degree on your resume.” I snort, shaking my damn head. But she’s still staring at me with those wide, glistening brown eyes as soft as melted chocolate. “You remember the hammock?”
“Like I could ever forget,” she whispers.
“I asked you to trust me. I promised not to let you fall. I was as good as my word, wasn’t I?”
She nods slowly, rinsing her pot.
“It was lovely, but I don’t see your point,” she says. With her back turned, she walks over to the grill and dismantles it, putting her tools away.
“We’re on a hammock now, Eliza. I need you to trust me again. I promise you I’ll drop off a cliff before I ever let you fall.”
