They exchanged a quick glance, some mouthed words. Tatum leveled a sharp glare at Flinn as she shook her head. He shifted in his seat, crossed his legs.
I didn't have the patience for this, whatever it was. I'd barely slept after returning home from the ESPN studios last night and I had other priorities to tend today. I went to the pond this morning with the hope of seeing Cal but he wasn't there. I'd dragged myself around that trail while listening to all the sad songs by The Backstreet Boys and then forced myself to walk another loop. It served the dual purposes of compensating for the rough night and allowing me to stick around in case Cal was avoiding our usual time.
It hadn't occurred to me he'd avoid our usual place.
After an exceedingly awkward pause, Flinn repeated, "We're together."
I swiveled my chair to the side and stared out at the city. "Meaning what?" I asked, not looking back at them. "Don't leave this up to inference, Flinn. Specifics, please."
"Specifically, we are dating," Tatum said. "We've been—uh—hanging out, I guess, for a little while now and we"—I saw her motion toward Flinn—"decided to make it official."
I brought my hands to my face, pressed my fingertips to my eyelids. The rational portion of my mind knew their relationship had nothing to do with me. It didn't matter whether these two could make it work when I couldn't. Why would I bother comparing? But the other portion of my mind, the one that wanted to cry all the tears and eat brownie batter while watchingThe Notebook,wasn'ton the same page. That part of me was ready to tell them they weren't allowed to make it official.
I continued gazing at the skyline because I didn't trust the rational side in this fight.
"We've also decided I should be the one to leave," Flinn said. "If someone has to leave the team because of this, it should be me."
Brownie batter. That was the only solution. "How magnanimous of you," I mused.
"What Flinn is trying to say without any coherence or connection to the talking points we planned last night," Tatum started, "is we understand if you don't want us working together while dating."
"'While dating,'" Flinn parroted back to her. "'While dating.' You say that like I didn't tell you I wanted to do this, wanted to work at it." A frustrated snarl sounded in his throat. "How am I supposed to believe you're committed to this thing when you won't even make a clear, definitive statement now?"
"I'm sorry if I'm coming across as not fully committing," she replied evenly. "But it's hard for me to accept that you want all the things you tell me you want. I've heard about the men and women in your life for years. I've heard all the stories about how quickly you hopped from one person to another. How no one seemed to matter to you. No one lasted." She sighed. "I don't want to sit here and tell Stella we're together, we're doing this, only for it to fall apart in a few weeks."
"You matter to me," he said softly.
"And you matter to me," she replied.
"You will always matter to me," he continued. "But I'm not the only one holding this together. If it falls apart, it's because one of us dropped our side. I'm promising you I won't do that."
"I won't drop my side," she said.
"I need you to believe I'm here to stay," he said. "I need you to show me that, Tate."
I saw it. I knew what I had to do.
After a weighty pause, Tatum said, "Stella, this thing with me and Flinn is serious. We know it's probably awkward or unprofessional for us to work on the same accounts. If that's your perspective on the matter, Flinn is prepared to leave. Or I can go. We'll do whatever you want."
I pushed out of my chair, grabbing my things from my desk. "I have to go," I announced, shoving my phone and notebook into my bag. "I need to leave. I have things to do and places to go, and I'm turning my phone off for the rest of the day. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Both of us?" Flinn asked as I rounded my desk.
"Yeah," I replied from the doorway. "But I'm serious about turning my phone off."
"Okay," Tatum said. "So, we're not fired?"
"Just don't have sex in the office," I called over my shoulder.
34
Cal
I leaned against my locker,stared down at my phone. Nothing to see there but I went on staring. I knew I couldn't will a message from Stella into existence but that didn't stop me from trying.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stremmel move through the room toward his locker. He kicked his shoes off, one thudding on the floor after another. "Hey," he called. "How'd that dissected aorta go?"
"Not great." I dropped my head back, stared up at the ceiling. "What about that stabbing? Did you pull that one out of the fire?"
