“You’re my idol, honestly.”
“You know what? I’m mine, too.”
I grin as I turn off the engine and get out of my car, the call disconnecting from Bluetooth and transferring back to my phone. “So, what will you do if it works out? Isn’t it against the policy to date colleagues?”
“I guess I’ll see after the date. Besides, I don’t know that I’ll stay in L&D forever.”
“You’re thinking of transferring?”
Her gaze flits away for a second, but it’s enough to tell me she’s actually thinking about this more than she lets on. A weight settles in my stomach. While I’m still not ecstatic to be going back to work soon, I figured I probably never will be again, and I’ll just have tolive with that. But losing the person that’s been carrying me in the department for months? I don’t know how I’ll get over that.
She must see it on my face because she hurries to add, “Nothing set, really. Don’t worry about it. Just some fleeting thoughts sometimes.”
I make a humming noise. “It’s okay, you know. If you want to change things up. I wouldn’t want you to stay because of me.”
“We’ll see.”
We say goodbye as I walk inside Eli’s place, the smell of simmering garlic and tomatoes blending with the scent I’ve started to associate with comfort and home.
“Hi,” he says, walking out of the kitchen to hug me. The cotton of his threadbare Coldplay T-shirt is soft under my cheek. “I missed you.”
“I was only gone a few hours.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
I close my eyes. It’s a simple sentiment to say you miss someone, yet it feels so powerful to hear it. I don’t remember the last time someoneactuallymissed me. It’s intoxicating, the way he makes me feel appreciated. I don’t know how I’m going to walk away from it.
“I missed you, too,” I say as we pull back, and he smiles before kissing me like he knew I did.
We head back into the kitchen, where Eli picks up a spoon to stir the reddish liquid on the stove.
“What are you making?”
“Testing a new recipe for the Chowder Festival.” He scoops a spoonful of it and brings it to my lips before I can ask to taste.
“Oh my God,” I say with a hand over my mouth. “This is insane.” I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be, and I couldn’t care less.
“I still need to tweak it.”
“Don’t. It’s perfect.”
He makes an unsure sound as he resumes his stirring. As easy as it is to make this man smile, it’s difficult when talking about his work. He’s so much harder on himself than he is about anything else.
I watch him work on starting his recipe again from scratch, 90s rock music playing from the speaker he keeps in the kitchen, and soon, I find my mind drifting back to my earlier conversation with Liz. A part of me wants to tell him everything. He deserves to know all the facts before making a decision. But then he brings his mixing bowl closer so he can continue cooking while wrapping an arm around my waist, and all my determination melts. This is nice. How many nice moments do we have left? I don’t want to ruin it by bringing up the ex who hurt him.
“What’s on your mind?” Eli asks, not even looking at me.
“Hm? Nothing.”
“You know it’s useless to lie, right?”
“And why would I be lying?” I ask, totally lying.
He grins, then picks up my hand to kiss the back of it. “Your fingers don’t lie.”
I hadn’t realized I was cracking them until he says it. I lay my hands flat.
“So?”
