Page 43 of Fun Together (Make Romance #1)

Faye

I get the email at eight o’clock on Monday morning.

We appreciate your interest . . . Have decided to go in another direction . . . Wish you luck . . .

I didn’t get the job.

I sit with this news for a second, and honestly, after how that interview went, despite Eli’s certainty that I would get it, I’m not surprised.

It doesn’t make the disappointment any easier, though.

I wonder if this was the news Eli was hesitant to tell me.

That would make sense. That would also make things much easier—if me not getting the job was our biggest hurdle to overcome.

I’m half tempted to conjure up a fake sickness just to avoid the weekly Monday morning meeting. It wouldn’t even really be that fake, that’s how terrible I feel. I didn’t sleep at all last night, tossing and turning, wondering if Eli was okay. We haven’t talked or texted since Saturday night.

He’s become the bright spot I looked forward to on my Monday mornings, and I dread going into this meeting with the weight of the weekend on my shoulders.

I’m tempted to head for the elevator and go straight home to bed, but I find my feet following the familiar geometric-patterned carpet into the large conference room. For the first time in five years, I’m one of the last people to arrive. I take a seat in the back corner.

My eyes are immediately drawn to Eli, the back of his head visible over the others.

He’s sitting toward the front, and I watch him quietly say something to the person sitting next to him, giving me a view of the side of his face.

He’s smiling and looking like his usual carefree self.

Is this just a facade he’s wearing today?

Is he hurting as much as I’m hurting? A sick part of me hopes so, because when I look at him, all I feel is hunger—deep, like I haven’t eaten all day and my stomach is eating itself.

The meeting starts with its usual mundanity, updates from sales, updates from product, but I don’t even listen.

All I can do is watch Eli, searching for any signs that he’s not okay.

I analyze every minuscule movement he makes.

He scratches his chin. He sits up in his seat.

He laughs at a dumb joke the CFO makes because he can’t stand for anyone to feel uncomfortable.

I think what I’m actually doing is collecting these images so I can file them away as something I can pull out on a rainy day, like an old photo album.

Don’t forget him. Don’t forget how great he is.

As soon as the meeting ends, I head straight for the exit, needing to be alone. I get back to the illusion of privacy within my cubicle and my phone lights up with a text.

Eli: Can we talk?

The duck pond is eerily quiet today.

The sun’s tucked itself in behind the clouds, casting the whole scene in a gray haze. I’m standing just behind a clump of tall grass that grows along the water’s edge. It’s itchy against my ankles and feet, but I don’t move.

I hear Eli coming down the path, grass whispering against his legs. His footsteps stop just before reaching me.

I turn around. “Hi.”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

As he continues walking toward me, I feel an ache start to bloom in my chest. The conversation we’re about to have is not going to be fun at all.

“I got an email about the job this morning.”

His eyes go wide before he looks down at his feet, shaking his head. “Shit, I asked them to let me tell you. Every time I tried to bring it up, I just—I’m so sorry.”

I turn back to look out over the water. “Was it because I didn’t send them a thank you email?” I joke, and it’s hollow.

He moves to stand next to me, and he doesn’t reach for my hand, but I can feel the phantom press of his palm against mine. “We’ll find you something else. Something better.”

Still, he wants to help me. Still, he’s so sure that something better could exist.

I watch his eyes scan the pond. “I was hoping our swans would be here,” he says.

The way he says “our swans” brings to mind the other things that we’ve shared, too. Our laughter. Our kisses. Our hearts.

Our mistakes.

“I heard you and Andrew fighting,” I confess.

In my periphery, I see him jerk his head in my direction. “I wouldn’t say we were fighting . . .”

I press my sandals down on the grass, smashing the blades out as flat as I can. “I think we should cool things off.”

He turns so he’s facing me. “Don’t do this,” he says, a pleading desperation in his voice.

I can’t look at him. I’m a fucking coward and I can’t look at him. “Do what?”

“Run away from me.”

“I’m not running away,” I lie. “This was always going to end at some point, right?”

“It doesn’t have to. What are you afraid of?”

I’m afraid of letting myself admit that I might be falling in love with him. Or worse, that I’ll accept his love the way I accepted Andrew’s, and I’ll end up using it as a safety net so I don’t have to face my own insecurities. I’m afraid of being like my mom.

Mostly, I’m afraid of losing him.

“Are you still in love with Andrew?”

Is that what he thinks? That I’ve been buying time with him while I wait to get Andrew back?

“No. I . . .” I trail off, unsure of how to even finish the sentence.

“You what?” He sounds exasperated. “Please tell me what’s going on in your head.”

So many years spent keeping my own feelings so close to my chest, it’s not easy for me to express them. But I feel his frustration and I understand it. I’m frustrated, too, with myself.

“Sorry we can’t all wear our emotions like a giant marquee across our face. No wonder Andrew found out.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t want to put caution tape around my feelings for you anymore.”

“I need to get back to my desk,” I say, turning to walk away.

He steps forward to block my path. “Are you worried Andrew will hate you if we’re together?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m worried he’ll hate you . He’s like a brother to you, Eli. And hearing the way you were talking to each other. I felt sick about it.”

“I can work this out with Andrew. And Andrew cares about you. He wants you to be happy.” He places his hand over his heart, tapping it against his chest. “Tell me I don’t make you happy.”

“What if I can’t make you happy? Because I can’t be what you want, Eli. I think you have this fantasy in your head that we’ll be like your parents. Your friendship means so much to me. It can’t be more. I can’t do more than that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He doesn’t believe me, or he can’t believe me?

“Where do you see yourself in the future? Are you married with kids? Do you take your dog for walks around the cute neighborhood you live in?” I take a shaky breath. “Do you have the love that your parents have that you talked about in your speech?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks off into the distance.

“Because I don’t see that in my future. Your speech was so lovely. You are so lovely.” My voice breaks. “And you deserve someone who can appreciate you without any reservations.”

“We can’t control the future, Faye.” He takes my forearms in is hands. “I’m just asking you to try. With me. I don’t want anything more than I want you.”

That feels like a kick to the stomach. “You say that now, but you’ll meet someone else who wants those things.

I can’t keep you from finding that. So, we have to go back to what we were before.

Friends.” The sting of tears is like daggers behind my eyes, but I don’t let myself cry yet. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He looks at me, pleading now. “Being just friends with you would hurt me. I’m falling in lo?—”

“Please don’t,” I interrupt him. If I hear him say those words I will break. “Please.”

“But I am. I can’t help it.” He steps forward, until he’s so close me that I have to lift my chin to look at him. “I’m falling in love with you, Faye. Please let me.”

“I can’t.” A tear escapes in a slow procession down my cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb.

“Can I tell you why?”

Why does he have to be so wonderful? Why do I have to be so broken?

“Every day I wake up and I can’t wait to see you.

To hear about your day and tell you about mine.

Make you laugh. Talk about nothing. Talk about everything.

I thought I was just curious about you, and I’d satisfy the curiosity and move on.

But that curiosity will never go away, because it shouldn’t.

I want to spend every second I have figuring you out because I love being able to know you.

You may not be easy to know, Faye, but you’re easy to love.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you to be with me. And if you won’t have me, then I’ll spend the rest of my life missing you.” His voice trembles, like he’s holding back tears, too. “Because I’d rather miss you forever than pretend I’m just your friend.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest. This debilitating fear has turned me into the worst version of myself. Because it’d be so simple to just tell him the truth.

That I’m falling in love with him, too.

But telling him would only make things harder, and I don’t trust myself to love him the way he really needs.It’s easier in the end to let him go now, so he can move on. He doesn’t need me the way the thinks he does.

He kisses the top of my head, holding his lips there, gaining strength and giving me comfort.

I hope she’ll let you love her.

He lifts his head and removes my arms from his waist. “I hope someday you’ll let me,” he says before walking back up the path.