My chest swells at the sound of Cliff’s voice. The golden wonder that is his car pulls up toward the curb beneath the streetlight.
I pull the passenger-side door open and slump inside, grateful for the rush of warmth from his heater. Then something wet pushes into the back of my neck. I flinch, whipping around to find a hound dog nudging his wet nose at me from between the seats. So this is the mysterious dog I’ve been smelling for weeks. When I turn around to say hello, his tail starts to fly at full speed and he jumps up onto the console, practically flying onto my lap.
“Get down, Biscuit! You’re coming on too strong for a first meeting.”
Biscuit doesn’t listen, just licks the salty part of my cheek. Nothing gets past dogs.
Cliff pushes Biscuit into the back seat again, then looks my way, bashful. “So believe it or not, I wasn’t stalking you that much.”
A grin tugs at my lips. “Sure. I believe you.”
“Really! I was wrapping up playing you-know-what at a place nearby”—he points at his Warhammer hoodie—“when I got your text that you were still working, so I thought I’d swing by, just in case.”
“Thank you,” I pretty much whisper. After everything tonight, all I want is to collapse into my bed and sleep for a million years. Taking the bus would’ve taken me out.
He holds out a paper box. “I smuggled one before the vultures emptied it. It’s lemon custard.”
I accept his offering and pull open the lid. Inside, there’s a single donut with pale yellow icing and white sprinkles. I want to cry when the decadent scent pulls toward me. But I think I’m out of tears for this quarter. “This donut might save my soul.”
He laughs and gazes through his windshield toward the office building. “Where’s Caitlin?”
I swallow the first glorious sweet-and-tart bite. “She just caught the bus, right before you pulled up.”
He taps his steering wheel. “Ah.”
I let out a breath, thinking about what might happen when she confronts Kyle tonight.
But there’s nothing else I can do. I have to believe that.
I lean toward Cliff. “So, did you score any great Warhammers?”
“I . . . may as well just say yes.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” I can’t help my smile. “Do you really paint the little game pieces yourself? How do you do the eyeballs?”
He turns to face me, brow raised. “You googled.”
“I did.”
“I have painted many a game piece, but the eyes are a whole other layer to get into. I’ll need five hours of your focused time as a starting point.”
“Probably for the best we leave it for another day, then.” I drop my head back against the seat. “Tonight was long.”
Cliff’s eyes are soft under the car’s faded overhead light. “That bad, eh?”
“We got the work done. It was just . . . hard.”
He nods. “Then let’s get you home.”
I watch through the windshield as the car pulls away from the curb, turning onto the street.
“Thank you for picking me up,” I tell him. “I know you said you were nearby anyway, but I’m glad you checked.”
“No problem.” We stop at a red, and he nods toward the digital car clock. “It’s really late to be taking the bus.”
Before I can stop myself, I nudge his arm with mine. “Aww, you do care.”
He looks toward me and says, with too much feeling, “Very much.”
And it’s like an anvil has dropped between us. All the air in the car feels charged. A palpable urgency crawls into me.
“I care too,” I whisper.
Cliff’s voice softens. “I know you do.”
The words float in the car between us, neither of us daring to say more.
We spend the rest of the drive home in comfortable silence. I stretch my hand into the back seat and let Biscuit lick it, laughing a little because he’s really going to town.
Finally, we pull up in front of my building. I look out at the darkened street, the flickering flood lights.
Cliff inhales. “Hey, Jolene, I want to tell you something. Off the record.”
I nod so, so casually. “This sounds intense. Should I be scared?”
His jaw hardens. “Very.”
I turn toward him, raising an eyebrow.
“Tomorrow I’m going to submit my final report on your training.” A grin draws across his face. “I’m very sorry to tell you this, but despite your best efforts, it looks like you’ll be staying at Supershops awhile longer.”
Of course, I already knew this. And I wish I could be excited. But his words just remind me of all the people who, despite their best efforts, won’t be staying.
His grin wavers. Shit. I should look happy. “That’s great!”
“You must know you deserve it,” he says. “You’ve done amazing work the past few weeks.”
“But what about the layoffs?” I ask. He tilts his head, a hint of curiosity in his stare, and I remember I’m not supposed to actually know about that. “Everyone’s heard the rumors.”
He sighs. “Between us, I have to begin the process of letting people go early next week.”
“What about Rhonda and Armin and Caitlin? Are they staying?”
His chin falls toward his chest. “You know I can’t discuss individual cases.”
His brow wrinkles. He looks completely wrecked. Because firing people isn’t Cliff. He made individual meetings with everyone in the company. His desk is covered with ideas about how to help employees thrive. He tried so hard to help Larry, right up until the end. He’s done everything to help me.
And I’ve been selfish, wanting him to stay.
The words burst free. “Cliff, I think you should quit.”
Cliff’s mouth falls open. “What?”
“Letting people go next week? That’s miserable. You’re going to hate that.”
“I . . . I can do it.”
“So what? I can eat a Subway sandwich, technically, but I’m never going through that misery again.”
Cliff’s lips press together into a thin line. His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. “This is part of my job.”
“Seriously, Cliff. Remember how torn up you were about Larry? You told me about your coping mechanisms. How many people will die in your eyes next week? You know this isn’t the place for you.”
If I can just be honest from now on . . . if I can help Cliff.
His head shake is slow, uncertain. “Larry was a tough case. The rest won’t be that bad.”
“‘That bad.’ That’s not how someone should feel about the job they do every single day.” But more uncertainty rattles through me. “Let’s be real. You hate this job. Your grandma is doing better now. You were speaking to that guy, Sanjay, about going back to work for him. So what’s honestly keeping you at Supershops Incorporated?”
Instantly, our eyes meet—and in that single flash, I realize exactly what he doesn’t want to say.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean to like him so much.
“I don’t need you to stay here to look out for me,” I beg. “I don’t need to be saved. You’re not your fucking Warhammer thing.”
“Okay, I think you’ve missed the mark on what happens in War—”
“You need to help yourself,” I plead. I hate that it’s my words that are making his face drop like this, but I need him to see. “Cliff, you’re giving up on an amazing opportunity in Vancouver, and for what? To work at Supershops, defending us assholes, even though the place is a nightmare?”
His expression tugs down, startled by my intensity. “That’s not it! That was never it.” He inhales, looking down at the steering wheel. The car’s overhead light bounces over his skin, highlighting the shadows under his eyes. “I need to be honest here. At first, yeah, I was trying to help you out. I liked you; I didn’t want to see you get fired. But it became clear pretty fast that me being here was what could’ve screwed you. That’s why I was looking into going back to Vancouver.”
I try to process his words, but they don’t add up. “Then what’s still holding you to this job?”
He looks down at his lap. “When my grandma got hurt, I wasn’t there. I don’t want to go through that again. I like being back here with her and Grace. That’s more important than the crappy jobs I take to earn a living.”
I shake my head. “Feeling good about what you do is important too. Taking care of yourself is important.”
“I’m not as brave as you, Jolene.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity. “Me? Brave?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re fucking brave. If what happened in the boardroom that first day we met happened to me—to anyone—they would’ve run away.” His eyes tug toward me, a current flickering behind them. “But that first day, when I adjusted your computer and everyone stared at you, you somehow managed. You kept going. And it’s not just that. You’ve helped other people too. Greg told me how you helped Rhonda with the Morale Boosters and taught her all the computer stuff.”
“Please, stop.” It’s like he’s laying out a play-by-play of all my deceptions—all the times I could’ve chosen a more honest path but didn’t.
He huffs. “I’m just saying, I’m not staying to try and save you. You can do it yourself.” Guilt swaddles inside me, but Cliff keeps his gaze on me. “And when I thought you might like Armin—when you wanted to stop being friends—of course it hurt, but it was also a relief, because that meant I could get over my feelings for you.” His fingers twitch on the console. “I went all in on my mission—even tried going on a date . . .” We exchange a sheepish stare as I remember the theater and Silvia. “Because if I didn’t have feelings for you, I wouldn’t have to leave.”
My breath hitches. I look up sharply. The air between us feels charged, like tinder about to ignite.
“And were you able to get over them?” My voice is tiny. I don’t know if I can handle the answer.
But he doesn’t have to say anything. The answer is in the heat of his gaze. The answer is in the swoop of my chest.
“I have to, Jolene,” he finally says. “For now, I’m still HR.”
I nod, leaning an inch backward. He leans back too. We both look straight ahead, sinking into resignment.
“Jolene,” Cliff says, gently. “Maybe if one day our circumstances are different—when one of us isn’t at Supershops anymore . . . Maybe we can get shakes again then? I mean, only if you want to.”
I want that, so much. But it’s too late to start over, at least for me. I’m still a liar.
I try to sidestep it with a joke. “Cliff, that’s never going to happen. We both have excellent jobs at a wonderful company.”
I think I feel his eye roll more than see it.
Biscuit barks, cutting through the tension. We both look toward him in the back seat, where he’s happily panting. I give him a little scratch on his chin, silently grateful for the interruption.
“I should get inside,” I say.
Cliff nods. “Big day tomorrow. You’ll finally be free of me and all the HR propaganda.”
“I’ll never be free at Supershops.” I force a smile and reach for the door handle. Starting tomorrow, I’m not going to read a single email that isn’t in my inbox. I’m going to be perfect.
As I’m stepping onto the street, Cliff leans toward the passenger side to look up at me. “Jolene,” he calls, “if I’d never met you, this would’ve been the worst job I ever had.”
My neck flushes as I lock eyes with him. “Cliff, of all the anti-harassment courses in the world, I’m glad I stumbled into yours.”
His chuckle breaks my heart.
When his car pulls away, I say out loud, “I like you so much.”
I take a few steps toward the foyer when Miley calls, “Little late there! I knew he was your boyfriend.”
I slam the door to my apartment closed a little too hard.