Chapter 14 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
@theanswerisno:
I had pancakes today
@pancakesareelite:
I’m filled with envy
@theanswerisno:
#pancakesareNOTelite
@pancakesareelite:
Link!
@pancakesareelite:
There must be something wrong with your mouth!
@theanswerisno:
Last I checked, my mouth works
perfectly fine. In every aspect
@pancakesareelite:
Oh.
@theanswerisno:
Your move, playa
On Thursday morning, I awoke to the buzz of my phone. Not my alarm. A phone call. The grogginess in my brain was replaced by complete alertness the second I saw MOM flash across my screen.
“Hello?” I answered, sitting up straight. My eyes burned. What time is it?
“Lily, love. How are you? I’m sorry for waking you but…”
It wasn’t unusual for her to call at strange hours.
“It’s fine. I should probably be up for work soon.” I blinked a few times. “How are you? I miss you.”
“I miss you too. How are you doing?”
She always asked in the few seconds we had, and each time I’d lie and tell her I was doing fabulously. I needed her to believe in a life after Douglas.
“When will I see you?” I asked.
“Soon.”
“Mom,” I started, my heart picking up speed. I jumped out of bed. “Why are you still with him?”
“Elizabeth,” she whispered. “Not again. We’ve spoken about this. I told you to stop worrying. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I promise.”
“Mom—” I started.
She cut me off. “I gotta go, love.” Without another word, she hung up.
I stared at my phone for a few seconds and considered calling her back. She probably wouldn’t answer… couldn’t answer. That familiar tension twisted my insides. Texting wasn’t an option because he had full access to her phone.
Rage burned inside me as the uncomfortable memories of him flooded my mind.
That manipulative jerk who always made me feel like I had nothing more to offer the world than my looks.
The controlling monster who ridiculed and belittled and shoved me into modeling.
The cold narcissist who loved me for one second and discarded me the next.
A scream hidden deep in my chest threatened to escape.
Shut up, sit pretty.
Do what I say and do it perfectly.
There were a handful of Douglas one-liners I could recite by heart and even now, even with years apart and distance between us, a burst of fear and fury was born at the mere thought of him.
I stepped into the shower, reminding myself that I was safe and free. If I didn’t need Douglas, neither did my mom. Why couldn’t she see that? I was doing everything in my power to make that obvious. And yes, this place was tiny, but if I got the job at Simucon, we could move somewhere bigger.
I was stuck in my mind while getting ready.
I opened my closet and considered the handful of outfits I’d fled LA with.
Just as I was about to pull out an ordinary pants and shirt combination, my grandmother’s voice crept through my chaotic thoughts: Just because you don’t feel good doesn’t mean you can’t look good.
Desperate to feel better, I chose my prettiest floral-print dress and hurried out of the house earlier than usual. With enough time to spare, I caught the bus. My wallet was stretched a little too far after accommodating the gas for that site visit.
I took my seat and stared out the window, thinking of all the things I could say to my mom to convince her to leave him.
As if caused by my mood, the clear skies darkened. By the time we reached my stop, the gray clouds had cracked open and rain came pouring down.
I squeezed through to the door, and as soon as my cowboy boot hit the ground, I rushed toward the office. It was a five-minute walk. A three-minute run. But it was three minutes too long.
By the time I stepped inside, I was soaked.
The wet walk of shame to Mr. Carden’s office was even worse than I’d expected it to be. Aside from the cold air stinging my dripping skin, the other interns gawked as I walked by. Cedric even spun around in his chair with that awful, smug smile slapped across his face.
But I would not cower and summoned all my grandmother’s energy. I pushed out my chest and glided by, despite Cedric’s gaze tearing across my every revealed curve. I glanced over my shoulder and delivered a cold stare, sending daggers. He gulped, shifted, and spun toward his laptop screen.
My fake confidence ran out the second I was inside my office. My shoulders fell, and my head dropped. I longed to be dry and safe in my office chair, crouched behind the little divider that would grant me a moment’s privacy.
Mr. Carden’s eyes flicked upward from his screen, and he took in my appearance. His gaze lingered far less than anyone else’s, but I suffered under the weight of it. Embarrassment and self-awareness heated my core. I crossed my arms.
But he didn’t stare or say anything to make me feel any worse, only “You should go home and change. It can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s okay.” I shivered. “I live forever away. I’m only a little wet.”
His dark eyebrows popped up and drew close. He flattened his mouth—something he only did when he was problem-solving. After a beat, he stood and opened the closet in the back corner. With a quick glance my way, he then pulled out an ironed gray shirt. A shade lighter than the one he wore today.
He held it out. “I might have spare pants.”
I reached out for the soft, dry fabric and then held it against my body. It landed in the middle of my thighs.
His light brown cheeks reddened, and I bit down on my lip, stopping myself from smiling. It didn’t take much to make him blush.
He spun toward the closet, rummaging through it. He took the shirt I held and exchanged it for a different shirt, which was slightly longer, but not by much.
“No pants. But you can take this.” His voice jumped as he spoke while he continued digging, with loud nervous energy, into the depths of the closet. He pulled out a black coat that would go down to my knees.
Unable to resist testing the limits of teasing, I said, “I’ll just wear the shirt. It covers all the important bits.”
He winced as though he was experiencing pain. “Elizabeth. Please.”
“I’m kidding,” I said, putting him out of his misery.
He shook his head but offered me his trademark lopsided smile.
Victory. Victory. Victory.
I reached for the coat, and his hot hand brushed over mine. A cold shiver danced up my spine, and I almost flinched.
Because I was cold. It must be. It had to be.
He straightened and moved his hand back to his side before scratching his head, then his neck, and then his ear.
“Your hands are freezing. You can… um,” he said, and swallowed hard before looking away, “take a hot shower downstairs in the basement.” He blew out a quick breath.
“There’s an emergency stairwell out and to your left.
It’ll take you straight down so you won’t have to walk through the office.
Um… Yeah.” He spun back to his laptop screen and drummed his fingers on the desk.
Lincoln Carden was the most bashful man I’d ever come across. If I changed behind the divider, it may even kill him.
Which was kind of adorable.
“Why do you have so much clothing here? Living out of the office?” I asked.
“Some sites are muddy and dusty, and then the next meeting has me in a politician’s office asking them to trust me on a high-risk technical design.
It wasn’t a good look for me, and they didn’t appreciate the mess I’d stomped in.
” He turned to his closet once more and grabbed a towel before handing it to me. “It’s clean.”
“Thank you.”
Finally, he met my gaze. The office always felt far too intimate when Mr. Carden looked directly at me.
There was an intensity behind those dark eyes that held me in place and tugged at my well-kept secrets.
If I stayed too long, I’d tell him everything.
After living a life avoiding attention, I spent the last few weeks wanting to be perceived by him.
“I’ll start bringing in my spare clothing then in preparation for all the site visits you’re going to let me do,” I said, but it came out as a squeak.
He looked away and gestured to the window behind him where raindrops blurred the view. “Or in preparation for climate change.”
Before he could look my way and pin me down with a glance, I spun around and zoomed out of our office.
I padded downstairs and found the bathroom in the basement.
I locked the door and peeled off the dress that still clung to my skin.
After turning on the shower, I stepped inside, warming my cold bones.
Safe from hypothermia, I climbed out and dried off using his cotton towel.
Do I give it back now? Take it home first and wash it? Probably.
The soft black shirt smelled like citrus, but the coat smelled like citrus and something else, sandalwood maybe. Like Mr. Carden. Clean and safe. My hands slipped into the pockets, and I pulled out a lanyard with a conference card attached to it.
Mr. Lincoln Carden—Presenter. Underneath his name was his photo. His hair was the same length with the same unruly, black curls. His deep brown eyes somehow set me at ease and made me nervous beyond my understanding. Based on this, he didn’t smile back in 2022 either.
With the cowboy boots on, I was sure this was an outfit that would give my mother a heart attack, but upon seeing my reflection in the full-length mirror… I quite liked it.
When I walked into our office, Mr. Carden’s gaze raked along the length of my body.
“Thanks again,” I said before clocking the headset he was already wearing. I slipped behind the divider and sent him an email instead.
He replied within seconds.
No prob. Get moving on those corrections. I wanna wrap it up so we can move onto traffic analysis.
In what had become a comfortable silence between us, I opened the project. I glanced over my shoulder and narrowed my eyes, wishing I could see him. All I heard was furious typing.
When I eventually sent off my design, I heard his email ping on the other side of the divider.
I heard him click through.
And then I heard him sigh.
“That bad?” I yelled, popping up on my side of the divider.
Mr. Carden snapped backward, nearly falling out of his chair. He ripped off his headset, and his hand landed over his heart. “Elizabeth! Don’t jump up like that.”
“Is it that bad? I heard you sighing.”
The frown I always expected crept between his brows. “It’s not bad. But it’s not done. I don’t think we’ll get to traffic analysis today.”
I resisted the urge to throw myself on the floor and kick my feet like a toddler. I’d worked so hard on it. How was it still wrong? “Permission to come around, sir.”
He pressed his lips together. “You don’t have to ask for permission.”
I circled the divider and stood beside him, glaring at my design. “Will you walk me through the problem? I promised you we’d be the best manager-intern team, and I can’t let you down.”
He glanced down to my cowboy boots sticking out underneath his long coat but quickly turned his attention back to the design.
“Bold,” he said, and nodded. “I like it. Let’s do it, then.
” He grabbed his notebook and pen. “I’m going to give you a few pointers and exercises.
It’s also a great way to keep you busy tomorrow when I’m not around. ”
“You’ll be at that conference?” I asked, and part of me—nay, all of me—wished he’d ask me to join. “Mr. Anders told me about it.”
“Uh-huh.”
My eyes widened. “I can’t believe I’ll have to engineer without you.”
Lopsided smile.
My heart skipped.
Dammit. Traitorous organ. Behave.
“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” he said, still making notes. “I’ll brief Dade, so any questions you have can go to him. He’s not too bad, and if he gives you trouble, let me know and I’ll sort him out.”
That wasn’t meant to be sexy, was it?
I looked away and deflected. “Oh, I’m used to trouble. My current boss has been giving me loads of it since I started.”
He broke his focus and glanced upward. “You know what? I’ll show you how much of a jerk I can be. Shoo. Back to your desk, menace. Get to work.”
He gestured for me to get away, but there was a twitch to his lips and a spark in his gorgeous eyes that confirmed my suspicions that Mr. Carden had a sense of humor, and he seemed to do his best trying to hide it.
“Suuuuure.” I stretched out the word and let a wide smile spread across my face. I fell into my chair. I was facing the divider and could still imagine his every expression.
His head peeked out over the top. “Okay, I’ll be a jerk. Today, you’re getting a grilled cheese instead of a chicken salad.”
“I love a grilled cheese.” I spun around and opened the drawing on my laptop.
The tut of his tongue carried over the divider. “You’re too easy to please.”
I sighed and mumbled underneath my breath. “The guys on Spark disagree.”
An IM popped up.
L. Carden: The guys on Spark suck. Now, get to work.
I stared at his message for at least thirty seconds. Even though we’d been emailing, seeing an IM with such casual language from Mr. Carden took me right back to my conversations with Link.
And I had the sudden, deep urge to text him and ask him to help me sort through my thoughts.
Because there was never anyone else I wanted to share my secrets with.
Not until Lincoln Carden walked into me and into my life.