She grinned. “I haven’t done anything much since everything shuts down Thanksgiving week, but I’ve met the students who share my office.”
“I’m happy for you.” I loved seeing her go after what she wanted. It left me wondering where I’d be if I’d chased after happiness instead of money. I might get to find out since Shelby had given me a warning Tuesday morning. Not for the bawdy forecast. She hadn’t even seen that. No, Lauren had complained about my office behavior, from “lying about being gay” to “hitting on her assistant” and “driving Elizabeth to quit.” Before I could even defend myself, Shelby revealed she’d turned up my “history of inappropriate advances” from my last job. So I took the verbal rebuke, told her she had nothing to worry about, and returned to my office to find a very smug Lauren, ready to order me about.
I needed to look for another job, but what if there was nothing nearby?
Bas announced it was time to eat, and I forced myself to focus on the present. Today was a necessary respite, with friends, with good food, and with a second chance to make things right with Elizabeth.
We spent the next hour complimenting Bas, making jokes, complaining about the necessity of work, and just enjoying good company.
Once the dessert plates sat empty before us, Chelsea excused herself to call her mom, and I started clearing the table with Elizabeth’s help. The faster we cleaned up, the sooner we could leave, and I wanted to take advantage of my free evening to finally spend time with Elizabeth.
As we loaded the dishwasher, I said, “You wanna go for a walk through town? I bet it’s pretty all covered in snow.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I need to work off this heavy meal anyway. Let me check on Chelsea, then we can head out.”
As she ducked out, Bas peeked in and said, “Leave it. You’re never going to Jenga all those dishes in there.”
He clearly wanted us gone so he could reap his rewards. He’d worked hard to break down Chelsea’s walls, and if this feast didn’t prove how much he cared for her, she was probably a lost cause.
“Oh, shit,” Bas said, glancing into the living room. His face transforming from giddy anticipation to concern, and he disappeared from the kitchen.
Curious, I grabbed a dish towel and craned around the doorway.
A diorama presented itself. Chelsea leaned against Elizabeth, tears running unchecked down her cheeks, and Bas hung back a step, like this was a hostage negotiation.
Chelsea pressed her fists to her temples, sobbing, “I’m a complete disaster of a human being.”
“You’re not a disaster.” Bas kept his voice calm, safe. “You’ve survived a horrific situation, and you’re still kind and funny and loving.”
I had no idea what had happened, but I guessed it had something to do with that phone call.
“You don’t even know me, Bas.” She sounded so defeated, like she was giving into the inevitable. “I’ve only shown you what I wanted you to see.”
Bas, bless him, pressed on, ever optimistic he could defuse the situation. “We all put forward a public image, but I think you’ve let me see past that. I think I’m getting to know you.”
“You don’t understand.” She lifted her eyes, and I could tell she was ready to detonate. “I haven’t been real with you. I’ve been pretending to be someone I’m not, testing out a version of myself who could handle a romantic relationship. But I failed the test. And I think the experiment has come to an end.”
“What do you mean?” His voice cracked. “Are you giving up?”
“I warned you on day one that I’m incapable of a real relationship.” She pointed to herself. “This is why.”
Shit, was this what it looked like when a time bomb exploded? I couldn’t even judge because hadn’t that been me Saturday night? Remembering my own humiliating meltdown, I dropped back into the kitchen to give them some privacy. I had issues with Chelsea, but I didn’t wish this on her. Especially since it was only by the grace Elizabeth had granted me that I stood here. I wondered if Bas would survive a breakup that everyone but he had seen coming a mile away.
When the door slammed, I peered out to find Elizabeth and Chelsea on the sofa with no sign of Bas. Elizabeth snapped her eyes at me significantly and jerked her head toward the door. I tiptoed behind them, grabbing up my jacket on the way.
“You need to call Dr. Rubin,” Elizabeth said. “I love you, but I’m not qualified to heal you. Promise me you’ll call her tomorrow.”
It struck me how generously Elizabeth lent emotional support, shouldering Chelsea’s trauma and now mine. While I’d been chiding Bas for chasing after a million red flags, had Elizabeth done the same? Was I bad for her?
Hadn’t she said I was just like Chelsea?
The door posed an interesting problem, but I slowly turned the handle and managed to slide it open without much noise. When I looked back, Chelsea was staring into her wineglass, looking a little calmer, but still wrecked.
“I’ll call her.”
Elizabeth poked her. “Maybe we should go to yoga tomorrow.”
That got a weak laugh out of Chelsea, but she only sounded sad when she said, “I don’t think anything on the list is going to make this hurt less.”
