“Look,” I say. “I’m just trying to be as pragmatic as possible. I don’t want my co-workers to be thinking that every time I get a raise or a promotion that I got it because of you. And I don’t want to worry about what people think when you do things like mention my name first when you thank people.”
He makes a face. “It would be more strange if I didn’t mention you first. The only person who did anywhere near the same amount of work as you were the film editors.”
“That’s not the point.” I tear the crust of my breakfast pizza into tiny pieces. “The point is that I don’t know how I feel about people questioning every interaction between us and resenting me because they think you’re giving me special treatment.”
“Do you want me to treat you badly?”
“I’d like you to treat me like everyone else.”
“I am,” he says, his tone bordering on aggressive. “I’m not going to restrain complimenting you or showing gratitude because it might upset some people. If they have a problem, they can take it up with me.”
“But they won’t. Because you have power. They’ll just take it out on me.”
He shakes his head before his gaze drops down to his pocket. He pulls out his phone, glancing at it before locking the screen and sliding it back into his pocket.
“One of the co-owners?” I ask.
“No. Just an old friend,” he says. Vague. “I’m sorry that the situation is complicated. If I could make it simpler, I would. Do you want to not interact while we’re at work?”
“We have to interact. You’re my boss.”
I don’t want to bring up Alina. I’m well-aware of my trust issues—there could be a case study on me about them. But the idea of getting blindsided by Mark again is turning my heart rate into a health risk.
This time, I hear the faint buzzing of his phone vibrating.
“I’m sorry, I have to answer this,” he says. He pulls his phone out again. He types something out on the screen before sliding it back into his pocket. As I nibble on the end of the pizza, it vibrates again. He focuses on his pile of food, but he doesn’t seem interested in any of it.
I take a sip of my coffee. I hold the cup close to my chest like a shield. “Who is Alina?”
His eyes shoot up to my face. The guilt is written all over his face. “Who told you about Alina?”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
He sits up straighter. “No. No, it doesn’t. She’s my ex-girlfriend.”
“How long ago did you break up?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He looks down at his plate, something between a smile and a grimace cutting across his face. “If you’re asking, I’d surmise that you already have a good idea of the answer,” he says.
“Stop avoiding the questions,” I say, setting the coffee cup on my desk. My voice has raised enough that Rosie and Tommy turn to look over at us. I lower my voice. “All I want is the truth.”
He rubs his temple, pressing down hard enough that his skin dents under his fingertips. “I met Alina at an art show two years ago,” he says. “We dated until last month. She’s a Sagittarius, which she will tell you proudly. She’s an interior designer. She contributed some money to 2Resonance. And, the most important part of all of this, is that she isn’t in the picture anymore.”
He takes my hand. His thumb presses into my skin nearly as hard as he’d been pushing against his temple. “I haven’t talked to her since we broke up. I care about you,” he continues. “You’re the one that matters. I thought we’d agreed to leave the past behind us. I understand that you still don’t trust me completely, but I need time to earn that trust. Just give me a little more time and I’ll prove that I’m someone you can lean on.” He sounds earnest. I don’t see deception in his face.
I squeeze his hand. “I’ll give you some time as long as you can tolerate my constant need to break us up.”
“You keep things interesting,” he says. “I won’t hold it against you.”
He gives me one of his pieces of bacon. “I’m going to go socialize with everyone else, just so they don’t get too suspicious. I can’t come by your place tonight, but I’ll make it up to you in any way I can after that.”
He stands up, balancing his crowded plate with one hand. He touches my shoulder, in a gesture that seems to overflow with kindness. He turns around, walking over to the west side of the room. He stops to talk to Tom and Craig. After a few seconds elapsed, he pulls his phone out. He taps the screen a few times before sliding the phone back in his pocket.
He’s not going to be the only person who broke a promise.
Chapter 12:
Mark
