Page 106 of The Equation of Us
“I don’t understand,” I say, sinking onto a bench. “Why would she do that?”
“That’s between you and her,” Wexler says. “But the result is that your Archer nomination will proceed as planned. The final decision is expected next week.”
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Nora.” His voice softens slightly. “We all make mistakes. The measure of character is how we address them afterward. I’m… relieved this has worked out.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Me too.”
After we hang up, I sit in the empty locker room, trying to process what just happened. My nomination is still active. My career isn’t over. And somehow, inexplicably, Daphne is the reason why.
I shower quickly and head back to my dorm, my mind still reeling. Sadie is out at her internship, the room blissfully empty as I drop my gym bag and sink onto my bed.
For the first time in two weeks, I allow myself to think about Dean. About how the first person I wanted to call with this news was him. About how empty this victory feels without being able to share it.
A soft knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts.
When I open it, Daphne is standing there, looking as uncertain as I’ve ever seen her.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Can we talk?”
For a moment, I just stare, unable to believe she’s actually here. Then I step back, motioning her inside.
She enters cautiously, hovering near the door like she’s ready to flee. “Sorry to just show up; I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine,” I say, searching for words. “I just got a call from Wexler. He said you went back to the committee.”
Daphne nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I did.”
“Why?”
She sighs, finally moving to sit on Sadie’s desk chair. “Because I was wrong. Not about being hurt—that part was real. But about taking it out on your career.” She meets my eyes directly. “I was angry, Nora. Humiliated. And I wanted to hurt you the way I felt hurt.”
“I understand,” I say quietly. “I would have been angry too.”
“But that doesn’t excuse what I did.” She runs a hand through her hair, a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache. “Reporting you to the department was… vindictive. Petty. Not who I want to be.”
“I deserved it,” I say, the guilt that’s been my constant companion for weeks rising again. “I lied to you. For months.”
“Yes, you did.” No sugar-coating, classic Daphne. “And that was wrong. But destroying your career over it? That was wrong too.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of all our mistakes heavy between us.
“I’m so sorry,” I say finally, the words inadequate but necessary. “For everything. For not telling you about Dean. For betraying your trust.”
“I know.” She draws a deep breath. “And I’m sorry too. For overreacting. For not giving you a chance to explain before I went nuclear.”
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“Yes, I do.” Her gaze is steady. “Friends don’t try to destroy each other’s careers, no matter what happened.”
The word “friends” hangs in the air, a question mark.
“Are we still friends?” I ask hesitantly.
Daphne is quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we were. Not right away.” She shrugs, a small, sad gesture. “But I think we could try. Eventually.”
It’s more than I dared hope for. “I’d like that.”
