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Chapter no 16

It Ends with us

โ€œI mean . . . Iโ€™m not trying to be sel๏ฌsh, but you didnโ€™t taste the dessert, Lily.โ€ Allysa groans. โ€œOh, it was sooo good.โ€

โ€œWeโ€™re never going back there,โ€ I say to her.

She stomps her foot like a little kid. โ€œBut . . .โ€ โ€œNope. We have to respect your brotherโ€™s feelings.โ€

She folds her arms over her chest. โ€œI know, I know. Why did you have to be a hormonal teenager and fall in love with the best chef in Boston?โ€

โ€œHe wasnโ€™t a chef when I knew him.โ€

โ€œWhatever,โ€ she says. She walks out of my of๏ฌce and closes the door.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Ryle: 5 hours down. About 5 more to go. So far so good. Hand is great.

I sigh, relieved. I wasnโ€™t sure if heโ€™d be able to do the surgery today, but knowing how much he was looking forward to it makes me happy for him.

Me: Steadiest hands in all of Boston.

I open my laptop and check my email. The ๏ฌrst thing I see is an inquiry from the Boston Globe. I open it and itโ€™s from a journalist interested in running an article about the store. I grin like an idiot and start emailing her back when Allysa knocks on the door. She opens it and sticks her head in.

โ€œHey,โ€ she says. โ€œHey,โ€ I say back.

She taps her ๏ฌngers on the doorframe. โ€œRemember a few minutes ago when you told me I could never go back to Bibโ€™s because itโ€™s unfair to Ryle that the boy you loved when you were a teenager is the owner?โ€

I fall back against my chair. โ€œWhat do you want, Allysa?โ€

She scrunches up her nose and says, โ€œIf it isnโ€™t fair that we canโ€™t go back there because of the owner, how is it fair that the owner

gets to come here?โ€ What?

I close my laptop and stand up. โ€œWhy would you say that? Is he

here?โ€

She nods and slips inside my of๏ฌce, closing the door behind her. โ€œHe is. He asked for you. And I know youโ€™re with my brother and Iโ€™m with child, but can we please just take a moment to silently admire the perfection that is that man?โ€

She smiles dreamily and I roll my eyes. โ€œAllysa.โ€

โ€œThose eyes, though.โ€ She opens the door and walks out. I follow behind her and catch sight of Atlas. โ€œSheโ€™s right here,โ€ Allysa says. โ€œWould you like me to take your coat?โ€

We donโ€™t take coats.

Atlas glances up when I walk out of my of๏ฌce. His eyes cut to Allysa and he shakes his head. โ€œNo, thank you. I wonโ€™t be long.โ€

Allysa leans forward over the counter, dropping her chin on her hands. โ€œStay as long as you like. In fact, are you looking for an extra job? Lily needs to hire more people and weโ€™re looking for someone who can lift really heavy things. Requires a lot of ๏ฌ‚exibility. Bending over.โ€

I narrow my eyes at Allysa and mouth, โ€œEnough.โ€

She shrugs innocently. I hold my door open for Atlas, but avoid looking directly at him as he passes me. I feel a world of guilt for what happened last night, but also a world of anger for what happened last night.

I walk around my desk and drop into my seat, prepared for an argument. But when I look up at him, I clamp my mouth shut.

Heโ€™s smiling. He waves his hand around in a circle as he takes a seat across from me. โ€œThis is incredible, Lily.โ€

I pause. โ€œThank you.โ€

He continues smiling at me, like heโ€™s proud of me. Then he places a bag between us on the desk and pushes it toward me. โ€œA gift,โ€ he says. โ€œYou can open it later.โ€

Why is he buying me gifts? He has a girlfriend. I have a boyfriend. Our past has already caused enough problems in my present. I certainly donโ€™t need gifts to exacerbate that.

โ€œWhy are you buying me gifts, Atlas?โ€

He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. โ€œI bought it three years ago. Iโ€™ve been holding on to it in case I ever ran into you.โ€

Considerate Atlas. He hasnโ€™t changed. Dammit.

I pick up the gift and set it on the ๏ฌ‚oor behind my desk. I try to release some of the tension Iโ€™m feeling, but itโ€™s really hard when everything about him makes me so tense.

โ€œI came here to apologize to you,โ€ he says.

I wave off his apology, letting him know it isnโ€™t necessary. โ€œItโ€™s ๏ฌne. It was a misunderstanding. Ryle is ๏ฌne.โ€

He laughs under his breath. โ€œThatโ€™s not what Iโ€™m apologizing for,โ€ he says. โ€œIโ€™d never apologize for defending you.โ€

โ€œYou werenโ€™t defending me,โ€ I say. โ€œThere was nothing to defend.โ€

He tilts his head, giving me the same look that he gave me last night. The one that lets me know how disappointed in me he is. It stings deep in my gut.

I clear my throat. โ€œWhy are you apologizing, then?โ€

Heโ€™s quiet for a moment. Contemplative. โ€œI wanted to apologize for saying that you sounded like your mother. That was hurtful. And Iโ€™m sorry.โ€

I donโ€™t know why I always feel like crying when Iโ€™m around him. When I think about him. When I read about him. Itโ€™s like my emotions are still tethered to him somehow and I canโ€™t ๏ฌgure out how to cut the strings.

His eyes drop to my desk. He reaches forward and grabs three things. A pen. A sticky note. My phone.

He writes something down on the sticky note and then proceeds to pull my phone apart. He slips the case off and puts the sticky note between the case and the phone, then slides the cover back over it. He pushes my phone back across the desk. I look down at it and then up at him. He stands up and tosses the pen on my desk.

โ€œItโ€™s my cell phone number. Keep it hidden there in case you ever need it.โ€

I wince at the gesture. The unnecessary gesture. โ€œI wonโ€™t need it.โ€ โ€œI hope not.โ€ He walks to the door and reaches for the

doorknob. And I know this is my only chance to get out what I have to say before heโ€™s out of my life forever.

โ€œAtlas, wait.โ€

I stand up so fast, my chair scoots across the room and bumps against the wall. He half turns and faces me.

โ€œWhat Ryle said to you last night? I never . . .โ€ I bring a nervous hand up to my neck. I can feel my heart beating in my throat. โ€œI never said that to him. He was hurt and upset and he misconstrued my words from a long time ago.โ€

The corner of Atlasโ€™s mouth twitches, and Iโ€™m not sure if heโ€™s trying not to smile or trying not to frown. He faces me straight on. โ€œBelieve me, Lily. I know that wasnโ€™t a pity fuck. I was there.โ€

He walks out the door, and his words knock me straight back

into my seat.

Only . . . my seat is no longer there. Itโ€™s still on the other side of my of๏ฌce and Iโ€™m now on the ๏ฌ‚oor.

Allysa rushes in and Iโ€™m lying on my back behind my desk. โ€œLily?โ€ She runs around the desk and stands over me. โ€œAre you okay?โ€

I hold up a thumb. โ€œFine. Just missed my chair.โ€

She reaches out her hand and helps me to my feet. โ€œWhat was that all about?โ€

I glance at the door as I retrieve my chair. I take a seat and look down at my phone. โ€œNothing. He was just apologizing.โ€

Allysa sighs longingly and looks back at the door. โ€œSo does that mean he doesnโ€™t want the job?โ€

Iโ€™ve got to hand it to her. Even in the midst of emotional turmoil, she can make me laugh. โ€œGet back to work before I dock your pay.โ€

She laughs and makes to leave. I tap my pen against my desk and then say, โ€œAllysa. Wait.โ€

โ€œI know,โ€ she says, cutting me off. โ€œRyle doesnโ€™t need to know about that visit. You donโ€™t have to tell me.โ€

I smile. โ€œThank you.โ€ She closes the door.

I reach down and pick up the bag with my three-year-old gift inside of it. I pull it out and can easily tell itโ€™s a book, wrapped in tissue paper. I tear the tissue paper away and fall against the back of my chair.

Thereโ€™s a picture of Ellen DeGeneres on the front. The title is Seriously . . . Iโ€™m Kidding. I laugh and then open the book, gasping quietly when I see itโ€™s autographed. I run my ๏ฌngers over the words of the inscription.

Lily,

Atlas says just keep swimming.

โ€”Ellen DeGeneres

I run my ๏ฌnger over her signature. Then I drop the book on my desk, press my forehead against it, and fake cry against the cover.

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