Chapter 43 Lincoln
LINCOLN
@theanswerisno:
What can I buy a woman who
really loves board games
@pancakesareelite:
A board game
@theanswerisno:
Smartass. She owns them all.
@pancakesareelite:
Hmm
@theanswerisno:
It has to be really good
@pancakesareelite:
Do you *like* her?
@theanswerisno:
She’s one of my closest like… friends I guess. She’s a close friend of a close friend.
@theanswerisno:
She’s not a generic gift kinda gal. For my birthday she got me a mouse with my username engraved on it.
@pancakesareelite:
A personalized 30-second timer
@theanswerisno:
You’re a genius.
It was unreal watching Elizabeth laugh with my friends, more unreal knowing she’d managed to coax a smile out of Claire.
I felt better about letting my walls drop.
If Claire couldn’t actively maintain distance, no one in the world could expect me to.
Not when Elizabeth had her beautiful copper hair curled into a messy bun with strands escaping to frame her gorgeous, freckled cheeks.
Throughout the night, her gaze searched for mine, and I wondered what answers she found there.
Would she tell me? Because I still had no idea what to do with everything I was feeling. I knew what I wanted to do.
I walked outside with my friends, leaving Elizabeth behind. Even though Rose had hugged me goodbye, she managed to sneak in a second hug before climbing into William’s car.
“Bye, you.” I patted her head.
She smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry if I was overly familiar with her. I didn’t want her to feel left out…”
“Yeah, I kinda rely on you for that,” I said.
She let out a small laugh. “I won’t be her friend if you don’t—”
I pulled her in for a bonus hug, which to her would be gold. “I know, Rose. It’s okay. She’s hard to resist. That’s kinda how I got into this mess.” I huffed out a long breath.
“I can see you’ve already forgiven her.”
“Of course I’ve forgiven her. I’ll always forgive her.” My heart raced at the mere thought of Elizabeth. Of Lily.
Rose bit down on her bottom lip in a weak attempt to resist a smile. “Lincoln, what’s the problem, then?”
“Aside from her being my intern? We could lose our jobs.”
Rose waved me off as if that wasn’t important. “That’s an external factor. If you removed that, what then?”
“It can’t be disregarded but without it…” I thought for a moment. It never occurred to me that I could consider us without thinking about our futures at Simucon. “There are at least four outcomes, and I don’t know if I can handle the other three.”
“Engineers are problem solvers, are they not?”
“Not this kind of problem. I don’t think you’re supposed to use a spreadsheet for love stuff,” I said with a sigh as the word love slipped out of my mouth.
I looked up at the night sky, where clouds covered the sparkling stars.
All I saw was Elizabeth’s eyes. The exquisite way the gray blended in with a pale blue, the shimmer and sparkle behind them when she teased.
Everything beautiful in the world reminded me of her.
“I, uh, kinda used a spreadsheet with William. I needed it. Even though I already knew how I felt.” Rose stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around me for one last hug.
After this, I wouldn’t be hugging her for at least a year.
She’d used up her hug quota. “You’re having doubts about something, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting yourself solve it the way you need to.
Make your spreadsheet, Lincoln. Trust your process. ”
I walked with her to the car, where the others were already buckled in and waiting. Claire’s concerned expression had budged but not disappeared.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“We left some treats and essentials.” Claire crinkled her nose. “And good luck.”
By the time I went back inside, Elizabeth was elbow-deep in washing the dishes and giving me the same strange guilty look Rose had.
After a game night with my friends, the sight of Elizabeth helping me clean up afterward sent me to a near state of delusion. This could be our life.
It was the thought I’d been trying to ignore every time I looked at her, but tonight made it especially impossible.
She’d been at my side while we played, ate, and laughed.
She wished my friends good night. In another life, I’d have her to myself afterward.
I’d have walked up to her and curled my arms around her from behind, letting my hands explore her soft waist. My mouth would be on her neck in an instant, tasting her freckles.
She’d chuckle, and it would only make me want her more.
Her sudsy hands would probably end up on my T-shirt, and I wouldn’t care. I would kiss her. Love her.
A deep pain flashed across my chest. If I kept thinking about her, I may need a visit to the ER.
“Your friends are amazing.” She glanced at me for a nanosecond.
“They really are.” I collected some of the dishes that had been left at the now-dying fire. “Rose is very excitable.”
“She’s like a windup toy,” Elizabeth said, and quickly added, “but in a good way.”
The laugh that escaped me was louder than I’d intended. I had, on more than one occasion, thought the same thing about Rose.
Elizabeth took the mugs from me and submerged them in the soapy water.
“Need help?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You do enough around here.”
Good. Because I had a spreadsheet to make.
I sat at my desk and navigated to a blank spreadsheet while playing every interaction I’d had with Elizabeth over in my mind.
Every word spoken, every smile shared. No part of me doubted the sincerity in her touch and how intentionally she accommodated me, despite what everyone thought of her and the stereotype of seducing your boss to climb the ranks.
I pushed my laptop aside and grabbed an old drawing, turning it face down. I’d need to start at the basics to untangle the web in my brain.
And then I started scribbling.
Unknown variable: At what point did she realize I was @the answerisno? How long had she chatted with me as Lily in the evenings and Elizabeth in the daytime all while knowing I had no idea?
Unknown variable: Why didn’t she tell me?
I switched to a different color pen for the possible answers: Because I was her boss.
A valid answer. She needed this job. She knew my promotion was tied to it too.
My pen hovered above the page, afraid to write: Could her feelings be as real as mine?
Theoretically, they could be.
But the likelihood of it was yet to be determined.
I put ink to paper, making a list of all the reasons why it wasn’t possible. Because Elizabeth was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Aside from her flawless physical features, she was also smart, funny, kind, caring, thoughtful, and determined as can be.
There was also that one thing we rarely discussed or acknowledged: She was rich. Again, in theory. Something told me otherwise.
I thought back to the article Rose had mentioned. I should read it, but not now. Not while I was hyperfixated on this.
Next question: What exactly could I offer her?
Protection from unwanted attention like the man who had waited for her outside our building.
Blowing out a long breath, I listed the things about me she might like. She called me smart—I shut my eyes and scribbled it down before my brain rejected the compliment.
I think she liked that I kept her well-fed. I could do that forever.
But as I sat there reflecting and ruminating, there was one thought playing over and over in my mind: I was in love with her.
I was in love with Lily’s mind, with Elizabeth’s wit, with Lily’s humor, and Elizabeth’s smile. I loved Elizabeth, and I loved that she was my Lily.
More than anything, I wanted her to be happy, and right now, she wasn’t.
I could see it in her eyes, in the way the corners of her mouth tilted downward, even for a second. I could see it when the room didn’t light up like it used to when she was around.
And I wanted to fix it. Because the one thing I was sure of is that I would love her in the way she deserved.
That should count for something.
I was ready to speak to Elizabeth.
My eyes burned from staring at my screen.
I’d transferred my mind map to the spreadsheet, and even though I hadn’t concluded it, I already knew what I wanted.
Knew what I was willing to risk. I was focused.
Hyperfocused. And there wasn’t a subject more fascinating to me than Elizabeth.
And if she let me, I’d get lost in her, over and over for the rest of my life.
My eyes flicked down to the time in the corner of the screen: 11:35 p.m.
Waking her to receive a love confession may not be the best way to convince her to love me.
I stretched upward and opened the window above the desk for some fresh air. The sounds of crickets chirping tickled my ears.
With my decision made, I continued pounding away on the keys. It would be nice to have an answer, even if it didn’t matter anymore.
Footsteps sounded from behind me, outside my room.
Was Elizabeth awake? Was she walking toward me?
The soft padding of her steps moved past my bedroom. My heart dipped. Bathroom trip, perhaps.
I stood, wanting to check on her. But the sound of the back door cracking open had me freezing. Her footsteps were clear now. The wood of the patio deck creaked right outside the window.
“Mom,” she said in the quietest voice, “I’m so glad you called.”
In the still of the night, it felt as though I could hear my own heart beating.
“I’m not in trouble,” she said, her movement still creaking along the wood.
Farther away, then near again. “I…” She paused.
“I’m going through something, and I need someone to talk to…
Gran’s awesome, but she’s so chaotic.” She laughed, but it wasn’t a full one.
Something was missing. “I miss talking to you. I miss you. When will I see you again?”
Her voice was so meek, so unlike the feisty woman I now knew I loved.
This was private. I reached out for the window and paused. If I closed it now, she’d notice and maybe feel even more uncomfortable knowing I’d heard some of it. I paced away from the window, but her voice still carried through.
“I could come up to LA, if you could sneak away for a little bit,” she said, her voice turning upward at the end.
The hurt in her tone drew me closer. I knew very little about her relationship with her mom and stepdad.
“It’s okay. Sure, yeah. I understand,” she said. “I know he’s mad. I saw the article.”
That article.
“I know you asked me to trust you and I do, but I don’t understand why you’re still with him. You don’t need anything from him. Just leave him and come to me. Or go to Gran. If I get this job, I could move into a bigger place.”
Alarms went off in my head.
“I know it’s not that easy. It wasn’t easy for me either. The last few years have been awful but it’s better than the hell he put us through.” She stopped pacing. “Trust me, Mom. Please.”
The wood creaked under her weight again before she spoke. “I trust you, I do. But it’s been years.” A mirthless laugh escaped her.
I never wanted to hear it again. I couldn’t eavesdrop any longer. I made my way over to my bedroom door, unsure of what I’d be doing, but knowing I’d be doing something. My need to defend her, to protect her, ate me up inside.
When I got to the door, I heard her say in the smallest voice, “Thank you. It’s been an eventful birthday for sure.”
I sucked in a quick breath.
It was her birthday today? If I’d known, I’d have done more. I’d have baked a cake. Invited her out earlier. I’d have done something, anything.
The hurt in her voice left thousands of tiny cuts across my heart.
“I know it’s not easy for you.” She stopped walking, and for some reason, so did I.
My feet were planted as though stuck to the wooden floorboards.
“Do you have time for my problems? It’s a long story.
” She neared the back door of the cabin now.
“Okay. I understand. Was that him? Okay. Go. Go. I love you,” she said, and it squeezed my chest that those words were followed by a heartbreaking whimper before she reentered the cabin and took the first left into the bathroom without even seeing me standing there.