11. Eric
Eric
Elijah and Emmett are in the conference room with their laptops and coffee when I arrive.
“Wow,” Emmett says as I close the door behind me, noisily making my way to my spot at the table.
“What?”
“Just…wow,” Emmett says, shaking his head.
He looks at his watch. “Thirty minutes late. Usually you’re the one waiting on us.
Should I give you the customary lecture about the importance of punctuality?
Or have you already given it to yourself on the way here, given that you’re its original author? ”
“Funny.”
“Liar. You never find anything I say funny,” Emmett says. “What’s up with you this morning?”
“Traffic,” I mutter.
“Is traffic why you’re wearing mismatched shoes?” Elijah asks.
I look down.
Son of a bitch.
I only have two sets of shoes that I wear to the office. Brown, and black. This morning, my feet are sporting one of each.
“Is it that noticeable?” I ask, cursing to myself.
“Is it noticeable that you’re wearing one brown shoe and one black?” Emmett asks. “Not particularly. Nobody is going to stare at your shoes. But I’ll tell you what is noticeable, that hickey just under your collar.”
My hand reaches up to my neck reflexively.
“What? Where?”
“Ha!” Emmett claps his hands together. “I knew it. Little brother got laid this weekend.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m just messing with you,” he continues. “The shoes are fine. If it bothers you that much, just get Rebecca to grab you a matching shoe.”
“I don’t send my assistant on shoe errands,” I reply. I’m feeling warm at the unexpected mention of her name. “Unlike you, I do actual work in my department. The shoes will stay as they are.”
“Suit yourself,” Emmett shrugs.
Elijah stares at me.
“Surprised you had time to get laid in between pummeling the shit out of our employees," he says.
“What?” I ask.
He opens a file in front of him, tossing a stack of papers at me. I look down and scan the first page to find that Larry Welch has filed a lawsuit against the company.
“That motherfucker,” I hiss under my breath. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Elijah says. “Seriously.”
“It won’t hold,” I say dismissively, tossing the papers down. “He doesn’t have a case. The judge will toss it. And if he doesn’t, we’ll destroy him in court.”
“Of course we will,” Elijah replies. “But that’s not the point. Do you have any idea how bad the optics are of something like this? The press will hear of it eventually. I’ve got our PR team on it, so we’ll probably be able to contain the fire. But internally, the rumors are already spreading.”
“What rumor is there to spread?” I snap. “Guy got out of line at the party last week and attacked someone. I handled it. That’s all there is to say.”
Elijah raises a brow.
“An attack? The lawsuit doesn’t mention that.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I say. “Why would Welch want to volunteer that information?”
“Can you prove this?” Elijah asks.
I shrug.
“Sure,” I say. “Rebecca can give a witness statement, and I’ve got a security camera in my office.”
“It was Rebecca?” Emmett growls. “Fuck.”
“She’s okay,” I say. “She was shaken up but…”
I stop there. I don’t want to tell my brothers more about that night. That she was drunk, mixed with medicine, and completely passed out by the end of the night.
My brothers respect the hell out of Rebecca, as they should, and I’m not about to share anything that they could interpret the wrong way. It was an accident, as Rebecca said, and sometimes things like this don’t need to be talked about.
“I can’t believe that fuck-head touched Rebecca,” Emmett says, visibly tense. “I’ll kill him. I’ll rip his fucking head off.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Elijah says, flipping through the papers in front of him.
“According to this document, our little brother has already done that. Along with a slew of other injuries. A little overkill, don’t you think?
I don’t know how we’re going to swing self-defense with this one.
Might be better to settle out of court.”
“We’re not giving that fucker any money,” I snap.
“Damn right,” Emmett says, looking at Elijah. “Settle out of court? He’s lucky if he doesn’t get jail time. When we’re done with him, he’ll -”
“Don’t you have a ten o’clock meeting?” Elijah interjects, looking at his watch. “Better get going.”
Emmett looks at his own watch and relents.
“Fine,” he says, pointing a finger at us.
“But this isn’t over. Don’t settle out of court, don’t cooperate with his lawyers.
We’re going to mop the floor with this guy.
Nobody touches our employees. Especially Rebecca.
Of all the people, he attacks the sweetest girl at this damn company? Fuck no. Absolutely fucking not.”
I feel a twinge of appreciation for my brother now.
Emmett is the hothead of the three of us.
Usually, I don’t find his temper helpful.
But it’s validating, listening to Emmett talking about Welch like he’d like to beat the shit out of him, mirroring my own sentiment.
He sounds as furious as I felt that night when I walked in on that scene.
Sounds as furious as I still feel even now, thinking about how I allowed him to walk away that night with his legs still in working order.
If I’d had more time…if she hadn’t been waiting for me back upstairs…if the security team hadn’t come when they heard Welch wailing in pain on the ground…
Well. I don’t know what the fuck I would have done to that guy. Maybe something that even our fancy lawyers wouldn’t be able to get me out of.
Emmett exits. Elijah turns to me.
“If you’re sleeping with Rebecca, we’ll need you both to sign some paperwork with HR.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“If you’re sleeping with Rebecca,” he says calmly.
“And I’m being generous by saying ‘if’. As though there’s any doubt, which there’s not.
Last week at lunch, you disappeared for 20 minutes.
At first, I thought you were just pissed off and ditching us, or something.
But then I go looking for you and spot you sitting next to her.
You looked cozy, Eric. More cozy than boss and subordinate who just happened to bump into each other at lunch. ”
I say nothing.
“You’re not contradicting me, so I’m going to take that as confirmation of my suspicions,” he says.
“Look, it’s not a big deal. I’ve already been through this once with Emmett and Charlotte.
It would be nice if my brothers would stop dating their employees…
but since that doesn’t seem to be possible, I’ve become well-versed in the paperwork involved. You’ll both need to sign it.”
“I’m not signing anything,” I reply. “We’re not dating.”
“So you’re just…what? Hooking up with her?”
I don’t fucking know what to say.
Yes? Yes. I’m sleeping with her. And I’m not dating her. So I guess that technically counts as “hooking up.” But I don’t like that term. It cheapens things. What we have is more than a hook up, even if it’s not commitment either.
“She knows it’s just casual,” I reply.
Elijah lets out a low whistle.
“Eric, you’re not much of a liar,” he says. “As the oldest brother, I’ve always known when you’re full of shit and right now you’re full of it.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t lied about anything. You asked if I’m sleeping with Rebecca and I told you. There’s nothing being hidden.”
“I’m talking about how you’re obviously hung up on her enough to show up to meetings late, forget things…
wear mismatched shoes,” Elijah says, gesturing to my feet.
“The king of routine and stability is suddenly unreliable and flighty. You might be able to fool Emmett with your bullshit but you’re far from fooling me. Come on.”
I say nothing, eyeing the exit. I know I could leave now and end the conversation here. Elijah would probably allow it. And I can probably dodge his stupid HR paperwork, too.
“Look, I know you’re not big into dating,” Elijah says. “But I wouldn’t peg you for the kind of careless to casually hook up with your assistant. You have more regard for your career — and for Rebecca — than that. This is something more. Even a robot like you can -”
“Knock it off,” I snap. “Knock it off with that robot shit, would you? For fuck’s sake, I’m not a god damned robot.
And I’m sick of you and Emmett making your stupid ass jokes about that.
Just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve and go around making my feelings other people’s problems, that doesn’t mean I’m a fucking robot. ”
“Stop yelling,” Elijah says, glancing out the window of the conference room.
I turn to look behind me and see heads peering over cubicles, curious eyes looking in at us. I didn’t even realize I was yelling.
“I didn’t realize the robot jokes bothered you,” he says, looking back at me. “You just needed to say something. I’ll stop.”
“I shouldn’t have to say something,” I mutter.
“Well, it’s hard to tell what the hell you’re thinking or feeling most of the time,” Elijah says. “The only reason I had a hunch about this thing with Rebecca is because you have been showing some emotion lately. For a change.”
“The only emotion I’m showing right now is anger,” I say.
“Like the anger you had when you took down Welch?” He asks, tapping the papers on the table between us.
“Yes,” I say, staring him down. “Like that.”
Elijah looks at the papers, flipping the corners with his thumb.
“Don’t waste this,” he says.
“What?”
“Don’t waste this opportunity, Eric,” he says. “This thing you’ve got with Rebecca right now. Don’t waste it. Don’t do that thing you always do.”
“What thing am I always doing?”
“You run,” he says simply. “You hide away. Just when we think we might be getting somewhere with you, you draw back and pull away. Like you can handle too much realness. You go hide in your books and your research and lock the world out.”
“Maybe the world needs to be locked out,” I say, thinking of the crowded wedding reception this weekend, of the way my chest went tight, the woman in the blue dress clinging to my arm like an oily film.
“Maybe,” Elijah agrees. “Just some of the world, though. Not all of it. There’s some good in the world, in other people. I don’t know what Rebecca has done to you lately but I’d say she’s good for you.”
“Making me forget to wear matching shoes is good for me?”
“Breaking you out of your box is good for you,” he says.
“Every once in a while. It’s what you need.
But damn if you’re going to do that on your own.
It’s on us — Emmett and me — to initiate.
And now Rebecca is helping us out, it seems. And doing a better job at it than either of us have ever managed to do. ”
“What if I don’t love her?” I ask. “It’s not right to continue something with her. She wants something I can’t give to her.”
“Why the hell would you say you don’t love her?” Elijah snorts. “You don’t know the first thing about your own emotions and you think you can say with any authority whether you love her?”
“How else do you know?”
“Love is more than an emotion you feel towards someone,” Elijah shakes his head. “It’s an action. A verb. You perform the act of loving Rebecca by protecting her. By taking care of her, by wanting to be near her. Isn’t that enough?”
“Is it?”
“What more is there?” He shrugs. “Love means duty, Eric. Like a soldier going to battle to protect his homeland. You’ll go to battle for that woman and I’d say that’s an indication that you feel something for her.
Fuck whatever label people need to put on that.
Love doesn’t have a single definition. It looks different on everyone. ”
“Love means duty.”
I repeat the words, thinking of the night I spent staying up in that hard chair, afraid that if I got comfortable, I’d fall asleep.
I cleaned her up, watched her all night.
Listened to her problems as she drunkenly rambled to me with her head in the toilet.
And then, by morning, aimed to solve her problems — in my own, somewhat misguided way.
It’s not something I’d do for many people. Few people, in fact. And yet I did it for her.
“You might be onto something,” I say to Elijah.
He leans in, staring me down.
“Don’t. Waste. It,” he says. “Lock this thing down. Give her whatever she wants. Stop being a fucking idiot.”
I stand up and nod.
“Good pep talk,” I say. “Stop being a fucking idiot. I’ll remember that advice.”
Elijah tilts his head, looking up at me thoughtfully.
“I think…I think you just made a joke,” he says. “At the very least, it was a sarcastic remark. It must be snowing in hell right now.”
“A blizzard, actually,” I say over my shoulder on my way out.