“Frank,” I prod gently, “are you sure you’re okay? You seem stressed.”
He looks up at me in alarm. “What? No. I’m fine. Just tired, like I said.”
“You’ve been working yourself to the bone,” Bastian adds. “Maybe take a few days off once we’re through the launch. You’ve earned it.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Frank tucks his clipboard under his arm. “Anyway, I should let you two get back to it. I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do before the gala.”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Bastian says. But he checks his watch anyway and grimaces. “Actually, I do have a call with the limited partners soon. We should probably head out.”
We say our goodbyes and make our way back to the car. As we’re pulling out of the lot, I glance back at the building, rising above the city.
It’s done. It’s really, actually done.
“What are you thinking about?” Bastian asks me.
I turn back to him. “Just how far we’ve come. How much has changed.”
“For the better, I hope.”
“Jury’s still out,” I tease.
“Objection,” he says, reaching over to lace his fingers through mine. “The jury has reached a verdict. Guilty of being an incredible project manager. Guilty of making my life significantly more enjoyable. Guilty of looking unfairly hot in that t-shirt that I’m just now noticing has my name on it.”
I snort. “Only you would be seduced by decades-old cotton with grease stains just because it has your name on it, Mr. Egotistical.”
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I’ll plead guilty tothatone, Your Honor.”
I laugh as he drives us back to the office. This is what I’ll miss most when it’s all over, I think. Not the grand, sweep-me-off-my-feet gestures, the private movie screenings and lakeside sunrises and all the items he’s been crossing off my list, though of course I’ll remember those for the rest of my days. It’sthesesmall moments. His hand in mine. His voice in my ear.
With seven days left, all I can do is enjoy them while they last.
“So,” I say, forcing fake brightness into my voice, “tell me about this call with the partners. Any kneecaps I need to go break?”
Bastian launches into a story about Handsy Harold Fitzgerald, and I let his voice wash over me, anchoring me to this moment as the light races toward its inevitable end.
Anchoring me to now.
To him.
Tothis.
49
ELIANA
chi ku: /ch?r koo/: noun
1: Mandarin Chinese, meaning “to eat bitterness”; refers to the capacity to endure hardship with resilience and grace.
2: the realization that bitterness is a beautiful flavor, too.
Bastian’s investor call runs long, which gives me time to catch up on emails that’ve been piling up while we were at the Olympus site. Across my cubicle wall, I can hear a few girls from HR tittering about the black tie gala. The whole company is invited, so it’s been like high school all over again, a constant tsunami of gossip about who’s wearing what and who’s going with who.
I ignore the hot wave of shame that rises in my throat at the thought of showing up alone and double down on my work.
I’m deep in a spreadsheet when my phone starts ringing incessantly. Mom’s name flashes across the screen.
I almost don’t answer. She’s been zero dark thirty for almost two months now. That doesn’t really surprise me—it’s not unusual for her, and besides, our last conversation ended with herkicking me out of her apartment when I suggested her meddling moocher of a new boyfriend might not be the greatest guy in the world, so it’s not as if we’re on the best of terms at the moment.
