Celia snickers deviously, and my face flushes cold because it’s obvious that Elle’s been sending Celia a play-by-play of the weekend, and I’m not crazy aboutthateither. In fact, I don’t like it one bit, because as of yet, Elle and I beingusis still totally up in the air. As ofnow, she’s still my employee, anduscan’t be a thing for at leasttwo weeks, and this weekend is still just a secret arrangement that unraveled into something that could get my ass fired.
AndCeliahates my guts enough that I wouldn’t put it past her to rat me out.
I can’t stop myself from cutting a seething glance at Elle, who visibly gulps.
She taps the phone and places it to her ear. “I do have it on my calendar. I’ll call you later. Bye.”
“You toldCelia?” I grit out through my teeth after she drops the phone into her purse. “Like…already?”
Elle folds her arms across her chest defensively and crosses her legs in the opposite direction. “She’s myfriend, Colin. I’m allowed to tell her about things like this.”
“I realize that she’s yourfriend, Elle,however…”I have to pause and breathe myself back from the ledge. After a second, I turn to her. “She can get me fired for this. Do you understand that?”
“Idounderstand that.” She turns directly toward me and cocks her head at an angle. “Doyouunderstand that? I don’t think you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place.”
“I didnotsug—”
“Who used the wordfuckfirst, Colin?” Her brows are high on her forehead. “And who used that word asecondtime? And who used it both times while I was so drunk that I barely remember it?”
The panic sets in with a vengeance, and I can feel a slick film of sweat form on my brow.
“If I were you, I would be less worried aboutCeliagetting you fired than I would aboutmegetting you fired,” Elle snaps. “I had no intention of doing that, but if you’re going to try to control when and how I communicate privately with a friend of mine, I might have to consider it.”
I’m suddenly drowning in panic, and I can feel the words barreling up and out of my throat before I can stop them. “If you get me fired, you can go ahead and forget about registering for that exam, because there will be no million dollars for you.Iwill havetwomillion dollars, andyouwill still be in sales, and I’ll just get a job somewhere else.”
I offer her a cocked eyebrow like a mother fucking exclamation point, and I immediately regret all of it.
Every last one of Elle’s beautiful features falls in that way that a woman’s face crumples when you’ve said or done something to completely crush them.
And Iaman asshole, and the fucking popsicle has melted all over the place.
After staring at her for longer than is safe while I’m driving, I tear my gaze away to look at the road again. She sits back in her seat and wraps her arms around herself.
We drive in silence for alooongass time.
We’re approaching mother fuckingLong Islandwhen Elle finally speaks up again.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Colin,” she says, head turned away from me while she looks out the window. “I would never do that to you. It was both of our doing, and I wouldn’t try to get you in trouble over it. And I’m not just saying that because I’m afraid you’re not going to give me that money. I’m saying it because I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not the kind of person to throw someone under the bus like that. Celia’s not going to either. She was just giving you shit. Don’t defensively punish her at work for it.”
I already know there’s no salvaging the potentialus, but last second desperation has me grasping at straws for something to say that can take back the threat I made. I don’t say anything quickly enough, and Elle speaks again.
“I realize it’s frowned-upon, but I’m going to forego the two weeks.” She’s still looking out the window. “I’ll come in long enough tomorrow to clean out my desk and sign whatever paperwork you need me to, and maybe you can just tell Dalton or whomever that you let me go because of my shitty six-month review.”
The mention of the review is a direct reference to me losing my shit on the very first day I met her. It’s only the latest reminder that, no matter what happened over the weekend, Elle is never going to be open to the idea ofus.
I would say that I’m back at square one,but… way back at square one, I wasn’t in love with her. I don’t know what square this is, but it’s way fucking worse.
“You don’t have to do that, Elle,” is all I can think of to say. “I would never refuse to give you the half that I promised you. You still have my word that I’ll cut you a check when the payout goes through. You might as well stay on for two more weeks so you don’t end up with a gap in your income.”
“The gap won’t matter,” she says quietly. “You already gave me the ten thousand dollars. I obviously haven’t spent it.” At that, Elle finally turns to look at me, and I take my eyes off the road again. Her eyes have a shadow of that same hurt I saw in them when we were tangled up in each other not even twelve hours ago. “Please just go ahead and fire me tomorrow. Because right now, all I really want is to move on from all of this and forget about it.”
All of thisincludes me. In fact,all of thisis mostly me and my making her suffer for the past six months. I have no way of selling her onus. One shamelessly indulgent weekend can’t erase the damage I’ve done. Elle still doesn’t like me. I ensured that she probably never will. And that’s just going to have to be okay.
I turn my head back to the road and offer a single nod. “Okay.”
The following morning at around 9:30, Elle sits in the chair across from my desk with her very few personal belongings stuffed into a work bag. I’ve passed by her desk enough times over the past six months to know exactly what they are.
A day planner with a pale pink cover that features the words, “She believed she could, so she did,” a lavender travel coffee tumbler, one of those page-a-day desktop calendars that features inspirational quotes from inspirational women, a hairbrush, and a small framed photo of her and Celia. Celia’s got the same photo framed on her desk, which sits right next to another framed photo; one of her with her sister, Frankie, who lives in New Orleans. And both of Celia’s framed photos are a stark contrast to Elle’sone, and a reminder to me that Elle is essentially alone in the world.
