"Elio—"
“I don’t think we’re getting any morebusinessdone tonight.” There’s a sharp edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. He's already pulling out his wallet, laying cash on the table for our drinks. "We shouldn’t have come here.”
“He’s just jealous,” I say quickly. “We’ve been on one date. He’s blowing this out of proportion. I’m sure once I talk to him, it’ll all blow over?—”
“You’re going to talk to him? After that?” Elio frowns. “Annie?—”
Something sparks in my chest, a burst of frustration and anger that I think has been simmering there for well over a decade. “You don’t have any business telling me what to do with my love life,” I snap, and I see Elio tense.
“Of course not.” His jaw tightens, and I see a muscle tick there. “I’ll see you around, Annie. At the next meeting, Ronan has to go over all of this, probably.”
“Elio—”
“Good night, Annie.” His voice is firm, hard, without a hint of the camaraderie or shared nostalgia that was there earlier. Heisall business now, as flat and unfeeling as if he were just some possible client that I took out to dinner.
“Good night,” I whisper as he walks away, my chest so tight that it feels hard to breathe.
6
ANNIE
Istare miserably out of the window on the drive back to my house, wishing I could rewind time and take us to a different bar. But what would that solve, really? Elio was right, we shouldn’t have gone out for drinks. I was pushing at the edges of something that doesn’t need to be touched, looking for something that doesn’t exist any longer. That should be clear to me after the way tonight ended.
And I don’t know how to feel about Desmond. On the one hand, his jealousy was out of control, especially considering the fact that we’ve only ever been out on one date. On the other?—
A part of me enjoyed the jealousy. Enjoyed watching two handsome men ready to come to blows over me. I’ve had so little of that in my life—romantic desire, possessiveness, the urgency of a man to have me and make me his. I don’t really want a man to lock me down in ways that would hamper my independence permanently… but that little taste of jealous possessiveness made me feel an odd pleasure that I hadn’t expected.
It upset Elio, though. And another part of me, the part that can’t ever seem to forget what we used to be to each other, hates that. Hates anything that could ever make him unhappy.
Leon parks the car, and I head inside, heading straight to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine before heading upstairs to my bedroom. I unzip my boots and kick them off, stripping off the dress and digging in my top drawer for a pair of silky lounge pants and a matching camisole, with a berry-colored cashmere cardigan—one of my favorites—over it.
Reaching for my laptop, I decide that I need to talk to someone about all of this. I can’t stop my spiraling thoughts, vacillating between the guilty pleasure of seeing Elio and Desmond puffing up with jealousy and the knowledge that I’ve upset both men. And beyond that, the fact that Elio was jealous at all?—
He still feels something for me. He must, or he wouldn’t have cared about Desmond. It could have just been the chivalrous desire of a good man to protect a friend from a man who came off as overly possessive, but I think there was something more to it. I think of how Elio tensed when Desmond said that we’d been out on a date at the speakeasy, how upset he looked, briefly, to think of me being with another man.
There’s still something there. We can’t explore it, I know that… but I can’t get it out of my head, either. It stirs up everything that I buried, making my chest ache with longing to talk to Elio and get it all out of him.
But that’s not going to happen. I know that for sure.
The rational part of my brain understands why. In our world, loyalty and trust are currency, and betraying either can be fatal—literally. Ronan has given Elio everything he has now, and maintaining that alliance is crucial for both their operations. Getting involved with me would upset Ronan, would make it seem as if Elio can’t be trusted, as if he accepted Ronan’s offer just to get close to me again. Elio hasn’t proved himself in a way that would make Ronan consider him as a match for me, either.
I can think of all the ways it would complicate things, and none of them are things that Elio would risk… or that I should. But the irrational part of my brain—the part that still remembers frantic teenage kisses and the discovery of pleasure with a boy who longed for me as much as I longed for him, that remembers secrets and yearning and finding out what desire means for the first time—that part can’t stop thinkingwhat if.
I take another sip of wine and close my eyes, trying to push away the memory of how the evening ended. Desmond's smug expression, Elio's immediate retreat, the awkward silence after. What should have been a perfectly good night ruined because I was stupid enough to take Elio to a place that I knew was one of Desmond’s favorite haunts.
Reaching for my phone, I fire off a text to my best friend from college, Mara. She’s an art dealer in New York now, and I helped her with her business plan our senior year. We’re as close as two friends can be who don’t live in the same city, and I try to go see her as often as I can, since my schedule tends to be much more flexible.
Annie:Hey. Are you out? Could we FaceTime?
It takes a moment for a response,and I bite my lip. It’s a Friday night—she’s probably out on a date, or at a gallery event, or just out in general enjoying the New York nightlife. But a moment later, my phone buzzes with a text.
Mara:Sure! I want to hear all about how the date went.
I bite my lip.It wasn’t a date,I fire back.It was a business meeting.
Mara:With Elio? You really want me to believe that?
Annie:That was over a decade ago. There’s nothing there now. And he works for my brother.
