Chapter 25
SIMON
“What’s this in aid of?” I asked as Ellie set a takeout cup and paper bag in front of me on the break room table.
“You tell me,” she said, pulling out the opposite chair. The table was small enough that her knee bumped mine as she sat down, sharp eyes on me the entire time.
I rubbed my thumb over the hot pink band aid on the tip of my index finger instead of meeting her eyes. “What makes you think there’s anything to tell?”
I didn’t look up, but I could feel the force of the way her brow shot up in the air between us.
I was lucky to have her. Even when she was turning her CIA-level interrogation techniques on me. Maybe especially then.
“That band aid tells me.”
“It’s only a paper cut.”
“From a three-hundred-year-old manuscript,” Ellie said, which was true. “I’ve never seen you mishandle anything like that, even accidentally.”
“How much trouble am I in?” I asked, risking a glance at her face. Her nose wrinkled. Ellie had the ideal button nose for maximum wrinkling effect.
“Abdul is afraid you’ve been diagnosed with something terminal,” she said. “You’re not in trouble. You are contributing to the likelihood of several people developing stomach ulcers over worrying about you, though, and the insurance here isn’t that good.”
My lips quirked in spite of my best efforts to stop them.
Ellie pushed the takeout cup toward me. “Drink your strawberry matcha latte,” she said. “Indulge in the healing properties of a matching strawberry glaze donut. Tell me what’s up. I’ll even start you off: Theo.”
I curled my hands around the latte, running my thumb along the edge of the lid. Of course she knew it was Theo. Who else had enough of a hold on my heart to break it?
“Strawberry matcha?” I asked.
Ellie shrugged. “Figured either it’ll be great and make you feel better, or disgusting and give you something else to think about.”
My lips twitched again, more voluntarily this time. “This is why they pay you the slightly better than poverty wages.”
“Avoid the subject all you want,” Ellie said, sitting back and crossing her arms. “But I’m under direct orders to make sure you’re okay, so right now they’re paying me the slightly better than poverty wages to do that. I’ve got all day.”
“You really should consider joining the CIA, you know. You’d be an asset to national security.”
Ellie snorted. “Only if all the bad guys are as earnest and easy to read as you.”
I sighed, sitting back, clutching my latte close to my chest. It did smell good, like a glass of strawberry milk in a summer meadow.
“Theo,” I pronounced. The word felt strange in my mouth, like something I wanted to spit out. I hated feeling like that.
“Theo,” Ellie repeated.
“I fucked up,” I said, looking down at my hands. “It… I just thought… I thought Theo had finally seen me, or finally… decided to give me a chance, or whatever, and I was wrong, and I might have ruined everything forever. He’s my best friend, El. I can’t lose him.”
Tears stung at my eyes as I looked up again.
Ellie leaned forward, taking one of my hands away from the cup and curling her fingers around it.
“Start from the beginning,” she said.