Page 76 of No One But Us

“Your mother and I were in a bad place, James,” he begins. “Yes, I made mistakes, but—”

“You left Mom for her, didn’t you?”

He’s silent for far too long. “Yes,” he finally sighs. “I did.”

* * *

Elle walks with me to the post office later. In my hand is the FBI’s offer letter, signed and sealed. She doesn’t question the fact that I’m returning the letter because she has not a clue how torn I’ve been for weeks. I never told her that every time I’ve pulled it out, I’ve imagined being away from her and hesitated. I’m excited about this job. But there were other things I wanted too, ideas I was entertaining, and what my father told me earlier was the last nail in their coffin.

As we return home, the need to touch her feels overwhelming. I twine our fingers together, and she glances at me with a question in her eyes.

“No one we work with is out this early,” I tell her. “I think it’s safe.”

I can see the questions she doesn’t ask—Safe from what? Why is this such a big deal? God, I wish I could tell her.

Chapter 46

ELLE

Something is wrong.

I can’t put my finger on it, but James has been odd, a little unhappy and distant, for days. It brings every ounce of insecurity to the fore, and I have lots and lots of insecurity.

We are lying in bed together, talking. He’s playing with my hair, and I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it.

“I’m going to miss this when I get back to school,” I tell him.

I’m not sure why I say it. I suppose because it’s mid-August and our time is running out. And also because I want to hear him agree, say it back to me. But instead he climbs out of bed and goes to the bathroom, as if I haven’t spoken. I feel ill, and I deserve to feel ill. I know where things stand. I shouldn’t be trying to extract words and emotions from him that he doesn’t feel.

“Brian said you asked to be cut early tonight,” he says when he emerges.

“Yeah. Ryan’s band is playing, and someone messed up my schedule last time so I couldn’t go.”

He stiffens. “You’re still going to that?”

“Ryan is a good friend,” I reply. “And his band is great. You should come. It’ll be fun.”

“Right. So I can stand around watching you lust after your ex-boyfriend? No thanks.”

I laugh and lean on my forearms to look at him. “You sound jealous, James.”

“You told me flat-out you couldn’t resist him on stage.”

“That was before I was with you,” I reply, wondering even as I say it if I’m actually with James.

“Why don’t we just go out of town for the weekend instead? People are always looking to take on extra shifts. We could go to DC.”

“You can’t possibly be that worried about Ryan,” I say. “I had ample opportunity to hook up with him the last time he was here, and I didn’t, so why would I now?”

“It’s not entirely that,” he says. “I just want a single weekend where I get you to myself. I’m tired of sneaking around all the time.”

“We could just tell everyone, and we wouldn’t have to sneak around at all.”

“I’m leaving soon anyway, so what’s the point?” he asks.

Though I already know it, his assumption that this will end continues to surprise me every time I hear him reiterate it. But his side of the story has never changed; it’s me with my ridiculous optimism causing the problem.

I go to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I splash water over my face and force myself to at least look blank rather than hurt.