“You can’t help how you feel,” she says, gracious as hell. It doesn’t make me feel better. “Is that why you didn’t tell Charlie about us? About our history?”
My eyes flare, surprise and incomprehension mingling. “I didn’t tell Charlie about us because there is nous. There was nothing to tell.”
Marisa’s eyes don’t waver, firm and determined, refusing to let me look away. “And if Charlie and Barrett had slept together? And she didn’t tell you?”
“That’s not…” I try to say. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s not!” I insist, waving a hand between our bodies. “There’s nothing here, no feelings, nothing. We might have slept together once, but we both knew it wasn’t good.” Our faces crease into matching expressions of awkward horror, and after a moment, we laugh, some of the tension dissipating.
“I know that,” Marisa agrees. “And you know that. Charliedidn’t, because you never told her.” She moistens her lips, eyes turning sad. “And now all she knows is what Bliss said.”
I frown. “Bliss is full of shit.”
Marisa rolls her eyes, frustrated. “Again, dumbass,weknow that. But all Charlie heard wasyour good friendtalking about how you’d always had feelings for me, and how we were meant to be together.” She shakes her head, declaring, “Charlie thinks you’re in love with me and you’ve been lying to her this whole time.”
“No,” I immediately deny. “I told her that wasn’t true. Itold her we slept together, but I told her there weren’t any feelings.”
Marisa’s expression turns pitying. “Dillon, you lied when you never told her about our history. You might not have said the words, but you lied by never giving her the truth. Why do you think she’d believe you now?”
“Hey, Dillon,”Rachel says when she comes into the breakroom on Monday morning, her smile wary. “Good weekend?”
“Not too bad,” I reply, watching as she goes to the fridge and puts her lunch away. “What about you?”
She lifts her shoulder. “I had the weekend to myself, which doesn’t happen often.” I frown, not sure what that means. She continues before I can ask, “Co-parenting has some benefits, I suppose, but he’s not exactly reliable at keeping up with his weekends.”
My surprise etches itself across my face, and I’m relieved that she’s still puttering around in the fridge and can’t see it. Rachel has worked here since I started, but I had no clue that she was a mom or divorced. It shames me to admit that she’s always been someone I see around, but don’t really register. Even when she was gunning for Jack’s promotion, it was just background noise.
There’s a taut silence before she whirls around, her eyes widening. “I didn’t actually mean to tell you that,” Rachel rushes out. “Sorry! It’s just…” Her laugh is weak. “No coffee yet.”
“It’s all good,” I say quickly. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
Rachel isn’t reassured, her movements disjointed as she slams the fridge shut. She grabs a mug from the shelf, heading for the coffee machine. “Two, actually,” she murmurs. “I don’t really bring my personal life into work, because”—she slides a look toward me, the corners of her mouth tight—“well, you know what this place is like.”
Before I get the chance to answer her, Jack waltzes through the door. He gives Rachel a dismissive glance before turning to me. “Just the man I was looking for!”
Her expression darkens as she turns away, keeping her back to the two of us as she makes her coffee.
“Hey,” I tell him as he gives me an appraising look. I frown. “What?”
“The bruising is almost gone,” Jack observes, and from the corner of my eye, I see Rachel throw a curious look my way. “You almost look normal. Back to your boring self, at least.”
“Shut up. What do you want?”
He pretends to be hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “You think I’m only looking for you because Iwantsomething? I’m not that kind of man, Dillon.” He winks, hand dropping. “Not unless you buy me lunch first.”
I roll my eyes so hard, I swear, I actually see my own brain. “I’ll rephrase,” I say dryly. “Whatthe fuckdo you want?”
Rachel slips out of the room, the door softly closing behind her, the noise catching Jack’s attention. Something sly enters his eyes as he turns back to me. “She’s been pretty quiet since the promotion was announced, huh?”
“Who has?” I ask in a bored tone, hoping he’ll just drop it. I’ve never thought about Rachel one way or another, but knowing she’s got two kids…
“Rachel,” Jack says impatiently. “You think she’s finally learned her place around here?” He clucks his tongue. “She wants to play with the big boys, but she’s as feisty as a mouse.”
My stomach curdles with irritation. “What do you want, Jack?”
He looks at me, his eyes wide at my tone. “Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” He shakes his head, waving a hand. “Never mind. I don’t care. The Bruins are playing against the Sabres this Friday night. You want to watch the game at my place?”
