He’s silent for a few moments. “It’s getting kind of late.”
“Is it?” I let go of my cat and check the time. “Holy shit, Ethan. We’ve been talking for three hours?”
“It’s not that impressive when you remember the liability report call we had last year.”
A loud groan tears from my chest. “No, don’t remind me of that awful day. I’ve only just bleached it from my memories. From now on, we will never bring up work outside of office hours. Got it?”
My lips curve when he laughs.
“Night, Bee. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven-fifteen.”
“This time for sure,” I promise. “It’s a Tuesday, so I’ll be less bitey.”
He huffs out a loud snort. Rude. “We’ll see.” Double rude.
My nose scrunches. “Night, Ethan. Try not to miss me too much.”
“Right back atcha,” he responds without missing a beat. “Try not to miss my arms too much.”
I make an offended noise as he hangs up on me.
16
ETHAN
MONDAY, AUGUST 18TH
Barbie is stilloffline by the time the daily update meeting comes around. It’s just Ed and me the moment I hop on the call. I must have misheard her when she planned on taking PTO last weekend for her move. I thought she was only taking Thursday and Friday off, but it’s Monday, and the company chatbot hasn’t come online to grill me over my team’s data yet.
“All right, Carter,” Ed says. “It’s just a boy’s club today. A real ol’ sausage party, if I say so myself.”
I immediately hit the mute button, simultaneously pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m certain he doesn’t know what the phrase means, but I don’t want to test my theory and see if I’m right.
When it comes to Ed, I simply go with whatever he says.
“Well, not just today. It’s going to be a boy’s club for the unforeseeable future.”
Unmuting my mic, I pick up my thermos and unscrew the cap. “What do you mean, Ed?”
He heaves out a weary sigh. “The B&E Dream Team is no more. Barbie abandoned us.”
“Barbie did what?” I almost choke on coffee as it slides down my throat.
“She quit on us,” he says.
I stare at his icon while the muscles of my back become tense.
I thought she wasn’t leaving until the end of the month. There are still thirteen days left of August. We still haven’t finalized the revisions for the annuity SOP. It’s on the agenda for Wednesday’s call.
Why didn’t she bring this up to me? She could have mentioned it last night when we were playing this farming game she wanted me to download. All I did was fish at some pier I stumbled across while she ran around petting our co-op’s chickens and cat—which she named Ethan Catter despite my suggestion to go with Pie Junior—and watering crops.
“Well, she’s quitting,” he clarifies. “Last day’s on the thirtieth, but she’s as good as gone with all the sick leave she’s using. It’s such a shame she’s leaving. Frank and I wanted her eyes on post-production.”
I’m barely listening to him. Barbie would have told me if today was her last day. Why wouldn’t she? Just last week, she gave me the play-by-play of the interview she had for her internship before sending me a link to an alt-rock playlist she made with songs she heard on the drive to the oceanographic research center.
She said it matched my vibe, whatever that means.
Most of the songs were already on my workout playlist, anyway.
