Not in Love by Ali Hazelwood

“Nothing. Just, he said something like, ‘Not that she’s the type who can be pressured into doing anything she doesn’t want to,’ and your face tells me he probably was right, and . . .” Minami laughed some more, and waved her hand.

“I know what you did,” I said.

“What I did?”

“Harkness. The loan forgiveness. It was a trade for my patent, wasn’t it? You let Florence stay on as CEO. You gave up your advantage so that I could keep my patent.”

“Well, yes. But also . . .” Minami sighed. “We have the board. And we’re free of this horrible thing that happened ten years ago. We did get closure, and maybe it wasn’t the perfect circle we thought we’d be getting—more like a very squiggly line. We can all move on, and I don’t mind that, not at all.”

“Thank you, then.” I looked down at the contract, which was probably the only closure I’d get with Vince. A messy, squiggly line indeed. But maybe I could move on. “And thank you for this.”

“No problem. Just let the lawyers know if you’re okay with it and they’ll finalize it.”

I nodded, and closed my eyes, thinking about Eli asking his lawyers to do this. On the phone after hours, sitting at the table in his kitchen with Tiny curled at his feet. Saying, I have a . . . friend. Who might need help. Eli worrying. Eli caring enough to—

“You okay?” Minami asked.

“Yeah. Is he . . . ?”

“Eli?” Minami hesitated. “Not at his best, but he’ll be fine. I’m not telling you any of this to make you feel bad. I know what it’s like when someone you care about is in love with you and you can’t reciprocate the feeling. It’s messy, and you feel guilty, and—”

“That’s not it,” I blurted out. It was so uncharacteristic, this unsanctioned exit of words from my mouth, that I almost couldn’t recognize my voice. “That’s not what it is,” I added, outwardly calmer. The inside of me was burning with sudden, petrifying heat.

Minami’s head tilted. “You don’t feel guilty?”

I swallowed. “It’s not that I don’t . . . reciprocate.”

“Oh.” Minami looked around, befuddled. Stroked her flat stomach a few times. “Um. Do you want to talk about it?”

I could barely explain it to myself, the profound panic that had seized me when Eli had told me that he loved me. The immediate, soul-crushing certainty that if I let myself take what he was offering, I would undoubtedly disappoint him. And then, when he’d walked out of that conference room, the loss stabbing at my belly. I had majorly fucked up, and I knew that, but the hows and whys of atoning for it were something I was still in the process of analyzing. Meanwhile, the inside of me was tender and bruised like a pulled muscle. “Not really, no.”

Minami laughed, relieved. “Okay. Well, then . . .” She shrugged and reached for the driver’s door, but stopped mid-motion, as though a crucial piece of information had occurred to her. “I have no idea what is going on between you two. And I only know you very superficially, so I might be off the mark. But if what prompted you to break it off with Eli is not lack of interest, and what you’re worried about is more somewhere in the realm of . . .” She gestured inchoately, like a very enthusiastic painter. “You not being good enough for him, or not being sure that what you can offer him is worthwhile, or just being afraid that navigating a relationship with him might be too complicated, you might want to give him a call. We all have our baggage, and Eli’s not the type to hold anyone’s against them. Although, on my end, it would be better if it didn’t work out between you two.”

I blinked. “It would?”

“I love the name Rue. Big Hunger Games fan here.” She pointed at her abdomen. “If she’s a girl, and she is a girl, I’m seriously considering it.”

I glanced down at Minami’s belly. Was she . . . ?

“But if you end up in Eli’s life, it might just be too confusing, so . . .” Minami gave me a bright smile and got into her car, muttering, “Boy, am I selfless.” I watched her leave, waving weakly as she drove past me, and allowed her words to ring in my ears long into the night.





39





MEANT TO BE, OR SOME SHIT





ELI

The first thing he thought when he stepped inside the faintly lit, empty rink was: Fuck.

Because the rink was, in fact, not empty. Which meant that the trip had been a waste.

He sighed and stopped in the hallway, hanging his skates on his shoulder and checking the text Dave had sent earlier that day.

No practice today. Alec and I are out, but feel free to stop by the rink and let yourself in if you like.

Except that the lights under the ice were clearly on. The metallic scrape of blades against the ice was clearly audible. And then, once the hallway ended, he could clearly see her.

Her.

Gliding smoothly with the kind of ethereal elegance only people who’d lived half their lives on the ice could achieve. Circling the rink in a swooping loop. Coming to a fluid stop the second she spotted him and then just looking, eyes dark in the gentle light, soft curves turned into sharp angles by the vertical shadows, pitch-black clothes a dramatic contrast with her pale face.