I snap my hand away and push my door open again. “Pop the damn trunk.”
“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait. Hang on, Elle.” He reaches across me again to grab my opposite hand that’s firm on the door handle and pulls it shut. “Just hang on and listen to me for a second.”
I dowait, but it’s more so that I can shove my free hand in my purse to retrieve my phone and get started on summoning a cab that feels like a lifeline.
“I’m poor, white trash, too,” Colin blurts out, far less cavalier and aloof than he’s ever sounded. The declaration is so abrupt and matter-of-fact that I know it’s total bullshit.
I whip my head around toward him and scoff, “Ha!”
“It’s true,” he adds, a little more sheepish. “I mean, I’m notnow, but if you think the fact that I’m really close with these people means I’ve always had money, you’re wrong. I had shitty parents. I grew up in poverty. I only became connected to the Reyes family because my brother and I were charity cases and ended up on one of those Christmas Adopt-a-Family lists hosted by a church, and Mrs. Reyes went out of her way to take us in after that. Even though I’m doing well now because of work, you and I are really not all that different. As long as you don’t say anything about any of that stuff, nobody is going to know.” He shrugs casually. “Hell, I had no idea, and I’ve seen you every single work day for the past six months. You’ll be fine in there. And Idon’t hate you. Everything at work isnot personal.And this weekend, Iamin your corner.” He leans toward me, giving my hand a tug that pulls us close to each other. Amusement glints in his crystalline blue eyes and a half-smile dimples one of his cheeks. “Go to your happy place, Elle. The one where you can tell that I’m actually a good, caring person.” He lifts his strong, tapered index finger to hover it between our faces. “Your words, not mine.”
I flutter my eyelashes and clench my jaw.
“And while you’re at it, remember where all of this leads,” he adds, his words prompting me, but he answers on my behalf. “One. Million. Dollars. A million dollars will put you so far ahead of your past that it’ll never catch up to you again. But if we both want that million dollars, we’re going to have to get in there and hustle. We have to be a team. I’m in your corner and you’re in mine. In fact, there’s only one corner, and we’re both in it.Together.”
A million dollarsis the magic phrase that jolts me out of my anxiety and re-centers me, because Colin is one-hundred-percent spot-on about that money liberating me from my past. That said, part of my mind is still hanging on the fact thathispast is apparently very similar to mine, and I feel a stab of genuine empathy for him.
Our faces are still close, and he’s still half-smiling at me when I ask, “Was your brother the person on the phone?”
The smile does a slow fade from his lips, and his eyes shift away from mine briefly. “Yeah.”
I recognize the expression that’s suddenly draped his features, which are quite aristocratic for someone who is apparently the polar opposite of that. It’s an expression I know from catching glimpses of my reflection during a few of my lower points in life. And somehow, Iknow. His brother is the same brand of hot mess that my parents are; the same brand of hot mess that caused me to accumulate a lifetime’s worth of debt so I could help other people escape it. Based on what I heard him say over the phone six months ago and what he told me just now, the pieces fall together. I’ve already said too much about my past and my parents, and I know Colin feels similarly about what he’s said about his brother.
I answer his confirmation of my question with a subtle nod.
“We don’t need to talk about him,” he adds, a shade of warning tingeing his words.
“No, we don’t,” I agree quietly, turning away from him to slip my phone back into my purse.
“So, are you good?”
The way he asks isn’t callous. Even I can hear that it’s his way of asking if I’m okay. And I am. A million dollars is going to make me way more thanokay, and all I have to do is go all in with this charade. And what I’m about to do is something I don’t want to try to do for the first time while people are watching, and Colin already broke the ice two hours ago by smooching my hand like one of those cheesy Hallmark guys, and TBH, Dear Reader… I’ve totally wanted to do this for months.
I turn back to Colin, incline my face to his, and our lips meet in a single, soft, admittedlysweetkiss.
There’s an undeniable spark, but I knew there would be. I knew thatway backwhen he handed me the napkin with his phone number at the coffee shop. And all I have to do to keep that spark from engulfing me in flames isjust say noto anything beyond what I just did.
A mere breath separates our faces, and—speaking offlames—his cornflower eyes have darkened with heat to a deep sapphire hue.
Just say no, Elle!
“I’m good, Colin.” I sit back in my seat and face forward, but reach across the console to casually rest my hand on his thigh and offer a firm, reassuring pat. “Let’s go hustle.”
6
FOCUSING ON THE FACT that I’mdefinitelygoing to fire Elle when we get back suddenly seems like a bad idea, because now it just feels like a license to act even morecouple-ythan I was originally intending to. And actingcouple-ycombined with a sweet kiss in the car, as well as what feels like a soul-deep connection via things we have in common, is only adding to the hope for something I know I can’t have. I’m going to fire her, and that’s going to eliminate one of my problems, but it’s also going to leave me with an obnoxious ache of longing for that potential goodness that’s now all wrapped up in her.
ButmaybeI could give this some time and look her up way after the fact, and thenmaybethis could actually be something later.
Wait a minute.
Fuck.
Stop it, Flannery. Get your shit together.
It’s not going to happen, it’s not a good idea, and you’re just torturing yourself.
Hope now seems like the most potent drug in existence. Archer’s prolific idiocy suddenly makes a lot more sense.
