Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“You’re thinking very hard over there,” Arthur said, and she looked up to find him watching her.
His work bag remained unpacked beside him, his coffee forgotten on his desk.
She didn’t respond right away, because she didn’t even know where to start.
She couldn’t tell where her anger at Arthur ended and her rage at Evan began.
“Talk to me,” he urged. “Please. Something happened on Saturday night. Just talk to me about it.”
She pushed the file folder across the desk. “Dean Clearwater dropped this off this morning.” He opened it but closed it quickly when he realized what was inside. “Your grant is fully approved.” She hated the flatness in her voice. She hated everything about this.
“I was going to tell you.”
Gods below, she had been a fool to think, even for a moment, that this could work. She should have learned her lesson with Evan, but here she was again, repeating her mistakes. “I told you not to talk to the dean. I told you we would figure it out together after we dissipated the pall.”
“I fixed it,” he pleaded. “I just wanted to make it right.”
She shook her head. “I told you how to make it right!”
“Maggie—”
“Did you stop to think, even for one second, how it would look to the dean if you took twelve thousand dollars of your own money to pay for one of my programs?”
He tensed. “What did he say to you?”
“It doesn’t matter! Did you think about it before you went to him?”
His eyes widened, and he started to say something but then stopped himself. “No,” he admitted, but no apology followed.
Her ears burned hot as she added, “Did you tell your family about me?” Her emotions were curled together—sadness, anger, shame—and too hard to extricate from one another. It would have been so much easier if she were just angry. “About us?”
His head fell back as if he were exhausted, and he closed his eyes. “They’re my family.” He sounded frustrated, resigned to whatever she had decided.
“I asked you not to do that, too,” she said in a calm, quiet voice she didn’t recognize. “They didn’t need to know we were sleeping together. I don’t tell my family every time I end up fucking a friend.”
It was a horrid thing to say. She wanted to take it back. She wanted to go back in time and reach into the air to grab the words before Arthur heard them. He made a small sound, like a gasp or a laugh, she couldn’t tell what. He turned around to look at her with a sharp, hurt expression.
His voice was cold when he said, “You told Dahlia the second I was out of your sight.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I told you that you could tell Rory. Rory, that’s it.
So why did Lane come up and beg me not to break your heart?
” Arthur groaned in frustration, and she looked away so she could get out the rest of what she needed to say.
“You don’t take coworkers you’re casually sleeping with to the family celebration dinner.
You don’t introduce them to your lovely stepmom and dad or your sweet nephew. ”
When she finally looked back at him, she almost broke at the pain on his face.
She had never wanted to hurt him, not even in her anger, but he had to understand that it would be so much worse the longer this went on.
It was clear they couldn’t manage dating and working together, but maybe they could still salvage a working relationship as friends.
And if not friends, then colleagues. After all, it had only been a few weeks over the summer, a fling…
They could still manage being coworkers. Couldn’t they?
Despite it all, she couldn’t turn off her desire to comfort him, to find relief in his touch. She wanted to reach over her desk and kiss away his furrowed brow, ease the tension along his jawline with her fingers. But she didn’t. She stayed in her chair. She burrowed deeper in her anger.
“What are you afraid of?” he demanded, a hard edge to his pleading.
“I told you how we could make this work, over and over again. You just didn’t listen.”
She was surprised when his expression contorted in anger again. “Oh, c’mon. That’s bullshit. You never gave this, never gave us, a chance. There has been an expiration date on this from the moment you kissed me in that tent.”
“Exactly!” she nearly yelled. “I told you what this was, from the very first day. I told you what it could be, what I could give you. And you didn’t hear me. You heard what you wanted to.”
Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, like he just needed something to do with his hands. “I’m not him,” he said.
She stiffened and said, more to herself than Arthur, “I never should have let it get this far.” She knew he wasn’t Evan, but if he couldn’t see how he had broken her trust, hadn’t even bothered to say sorry…
She had wanted to believe that Evan was uniquely awful, but maybe he wasn’t.
Her breath caught, a sob stuck in her throat, as she had the horrible thought that maybe Evan wasn’t the problem at all.
Maybe it was her. “That was my fault. And we should have had more time, but I think—”
“What are you saying?” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice.
“When the gloaming creeper decoction is done settling and we say our incantation, the pall will be gone. You’ll be able to move back into your office next week.”
He closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t stand to look at her.
“This has to end. Now,” she went on. “Before we hurt each other more. Before our lives are too intertwined.” Above and below, she already missed him. Her arms ached for him, despite her anger. And she just wanted to say his name, one last time. “I don’t want a break to destroy us, Arthur.”
After today, he should be Dr. Taliesin again. It would be fine. It would hurt the first few times, but it would be fine in the end. She had almost convinced herself.
“You’re already…” he began, his voice cracking, but he swallowed the words. When he spoke again, his voice was whisper quiet. “It will be enough for you?”
Maggie tried to find it in her heart to answer yes, but said instead, “It has to be.” She tried to look resolved. She tried to look sure. But Arthur’s furrow softened, just for a moment, at whatever he saw in her face instead.
He continued to stare at her for a moment, his gaze penetrating and hurt. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do. Apologize, to start, but then what? Fight for her? Yell at her? Tell her she was giving up too soon?
Instead, he gave her exactly what she said she wanted.
“I’ll be out of here by the end of the week.
” He gathered his bag, his now-cold coffee.
When he stood and stepped around her desk, he paused when they were just inches apart.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, as he said quietly, “Can I kiss you goodbye at least? One last time?”
She should have said no, but before she could get the word out, she was nodding.
He leaned down, his hand steadying her rolling chair, and pressed his lips to hers, soft and tender.
Tears were falling down her cheeks, but she wasn’t even sure when she’d started crying.
She could taste them as she opened her lips for Arthur, just for a moment.
A sob built in her throat as Arthur’s hand came up to her face, gently stroking the tears from her cheeks, and she couldn’t bear the tenderness of his touch.
When she pulled away, she slid her seat back just enough so he would have to step forward to touch her again.
“Goodbye, Arthur,” she said, with a finality she didn’t feel. That she didn’t want.
His face collapsed, but he turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.