Elle looks back up at me, her eyes penetrating mine longer and deeper than they ever have in all the time I’ve known her,includingthe two times we were completely wrapped up in each other.
“Colin.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m—” She cuts herself off and draws in a breath, letting it out long and slowly, almost therapeutically, and it causes her slight shoulders to sink. “I’m Archer’s recovery coach.”
My eyes do a rapid, involuntary double blink because it’s so left field that it sounds like gibberish.
I release her hands and sit back in my chair. “I beg your pardon.”
She folds her hands in her lap again. “I’m your brother’s recovery coach,” she clarifies, as if I don’t know whoArcheris. “The new job I got is at Allied—”
“I thought you were some kind of government social worker,” I say, my words a lot sharper and more clipped than I should let them be, but the information is so jarring that I suddenly feel like I’m naked in the middle of Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
“Well, I’m a licensed social worker, and my licensing is through the government,” she explains, gesturing with an open palm, and her hand is still shaking. “But you can do all sorts of work with that license. Recovery coaching is more like what I always wanted—”
I point at her. “Soyou’rethe one that’s been dealing with all his shit this whole time?”
“Yes,” she says quietly.
Eileen’s suddenly feels like the core of the damn sun, and I tug at my collar to pop open a couple of buttons. “And that means you’ve been all up in that fucking file, and you read my fucking statement, and you know all about all the ugliest, nastiest, most fucked-up shit from when we—”
“Colin.” Her tone is suddenly solid, steady, and authoritative, and this is probably her fucking social worker voice. This is probably the tone she uses with Archer. It’s probably why he’s doing so fucking well right now, and none of this should have me as pissed off as it does. “I know you’re probably feeling exposed and vulnerable right now because you never wanted someone like me to know about—”
“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.” I point at her again, and I really shouldn’t be pointing at her like this. “Don’t fucking talk to melike that. You might behistherapist, but you’re notmine. I am not the one who needs a fucking therapist. I’m the one who’s always had my shit together. I’m the one who’s always taken care ofhim. I’m the one who’s been holding all the fucking broken pieces together. I’m the one—”
“Colin.”
Ireallyhate that tone all of a sudden, and this wasnothow I pictured this fucking cheesecake date panning out.
“Don’t fucking say my name like that, Elle.” I huff and slam back against my chair as my mind continues to reel. Raking my hand through my hair, I catch her gaze again, and now her green eyes are red-rimmed with tears. “So, what exactly is the point of you telling me this? Did you want tohang outjust so you could tell me this shit and pat my head and coddle me or something?”
Elle gives her head a small shake. “I needed to tell you that so I could tell you something else.”
I flip my palms, incredulous. “There’smore?”
She gives a single nod. “But I needed you to understand up front that the heart of my work is making sure I protect the people I’m caring for and coaching from anything that might derail their progress. And Archer is one of those people. So what I’m about to tell you is going to require the creation of some non-negotiable boundaries between us.”
Now I’m just bewildered. This entire situation makes me feel like I’m high on helium or some shit.
I down my scalding coffee, wishing it was whiskey, slam down the cup, and wave my hand through the air between us. “Well, spit it out already.”
Elle stares at me again, unblinking, bottom lip doing the faintest tremble, and after a second, a tear trips over her lower lashes and rolls down her cheek. “First, I need you to know that I don’t needanythingfrom you. I don’t need help. Icertainlydon’t need money. I’m not using this as leverage for anything. I’m only telling you because it’s the right thing to do.”
“That’s great, Elle. Understood.” I cross my arms over my chest and then lift my fingers slightly to flit them at her. I really shouldn’t be such a dick to her, especially since she’s obviously upset about whatever this is, but such is how fucked up I am, and now she’s sitting over therepitying me. “Go ahead.”
She goes three shades paler right before my eyes, and her diminutive, yet perfectly-sized-for-my-mouth breasts are rising and falling as her breathing picks up. She still doesn’t say anything, and she looks more like she’s about to pass out.
I’m being way too hard on her. This bizarre coincidence isn’t her fault, and it dawns on me that if anyone ruined this cheesecake date, it’s me. It also dawns on me thatjust maybeshe came here to tell me thatsheactually has feelings forme.
After all, she initiated this meet-up.
Maybe all the stuff about her being Archer’s coach just means we can’t actually date right now, but that she wants to later.
I may have really,reallyfucked this up just now.
I clear my throat and lean forward again, reaching across the table with my palms up in an invitation to hold her hands. “Okay, I’m sorry. I realize that I flipped out just now, and it’s obvious that’s the last thing I should’ve done when you’re about to say whatever this is. You look like you’re going to faint. Do you maybe want to go outside for some fresh air?” I nod at the windows behind her. “There’s a pub right across the street. We could go get a drink or something.”
