Mel.
She is off-limits. She is forbidden.
Rob’s waiting for me to answer. “I guess,” I say unenthusiastically. “It's for a good cause, after all.”
Rob shoots me a sharp look. “It’s not like you to dismiss this particular fundraiser. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” I’m not the only one attracted to Mel. Rob is too. Not that we’ve ever discussed it, of course; Mel is off-limits. Rob hides it well, but I’ve known him for a very long time.
He wants her. I want her. Every single time I'm in a room with her, my brain spins one impossible what-if scenario after another. What if Mel’s phone had never rung that night? What if her mother hadn't had a heart attack? What if we’d stayed exactly where we were? Would she have made a move? Would she have picked one of us?
Would she have picked both?
Enough, Fontaine. Cut this shit out.
“Are you going?” I ask him.
“I said I would.” He grimaces. “It seems like a dick move to back out in the last minute. I would much rather head to Connecticut.”
“Are you bringing a date?”
His face wipes clean of expression. “No.”
Someone knocks on the door. I look up, and Mel sticks her head in my office. Today, she’s wearing a leaf-green sweater over dark jeans. She’s tied her hair in a loose ponytail, and strands are already escaping. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her lips—
“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” she says. “Reena sent me a note about a nine-thirty meeting, but I have a conflict, so I thought I’d swing by.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Rob says. “Come on in, Mel. What’s up?”
She enters my office, shuts the door behind her, and takes a seat. Her back is straight, and she looks uncomfortable, like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” she says.
What the hell? “Why so formal, Mel? You know we always have time for you.”
She picks at her nails, a sure sign that she’s stressed. Rob lifts an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
She pulls open the folder she’s carrying and extracts an envelope from it. She hands it to me without meeting my eyes.
I don’t have a good feeling about this.
“Mel?” I prompt.
“I want to let the two of you know I accepted another job offer,” she blurts out. “This is my official letter of resignation.”
She's quitting?