The Assistants(58)

Kevin opened his apartment door and I went right for him, wrapping my arms around his torso, burying my face into his neck. “I missed you today,” I said.

He held himself rigid, then carefully detached me and took a step back. He was wearing a Hanes T-shirt and loose jeans. I wasn’t used to seeing him dressed so casually, and the first thought to run through my mind was, This is what he’d look like around the house all the time if we got married. Clearly I was not feeling like myself.

“Can we sit down for a minute?” Kevin said. “I want to talk to you.”

I followed him across his minuscule apartment, to the couch, with an impending doom coagulating in my gut.

“I had a meeting today,” he said. “With Glen Wiles.”

I stared down at the area rug, which was still vaguely discolored with chocolate and strawberry stains.

“Tina, can you look at me?”

I did, though it took effort, and I noticed then that Kevin’s wholesome eyes were tinged with red. His mop of dark hair looked Beethoven wild, as though he’d been tugging on it nervously.

“There were some very important people at this meeting, Tina. Lawyers, and they were talking about your website. Specifically, how it’s funded.”

It’s interesting, how long I’d dreaded exactly this, the hours of night sweats I’d devoted to foreseeing my reaction, the first-thing-in-the-morning anxiety attacks I’d offered up to foretelling my response—but now that it had actually happened, now that the words had been spoken, all I could do was not hear them. I wasn’t pretending. I literally did not hear the words because how could I, when I wasn’t even there in that room? When I wasn’t even present in mind or body within the suffocating confines of that coffin-size apartment?

“Why is the Titan legal department looking into the funding of your website?” Kevin asked.

I swallowed hard, willing myself to pass out or succumb to an attack of angina, anything that would keep me from having to give him an explanation. I returned my attention to the area rug, wishing to collapse onto its hand-tufted surface, to roll myself up into a New Zealand–wool burrito.

“Tina.”

The funny thing was, technically all of the official website’s funding was legitimate. But if they started digging, they would probably uncover how Emily and I got it started.

“What exactly were the lawyers saying?” I asked.

“So it’s true,” Kevin said.

“What is?”

“Tina, is there a part of this nonprofit thing that you’re not telling me? I’m giving you a chance here, to come clean. To trust me. With the truth.”

“The truth,” I said, “is . . . complicated.”

“I don’t believe this.” Kevin brought his fingers up to his temples. “Why did Robert really fire you, Tina?”

“I don’t know. I swear.”

He ran his hands through his maniac hair. “I hope you realize that I’m associated with you now.”

“You’re associated with me?”

“I’m just saying I’m part of this whole thing, so if there’s something illegal going on, I need to know about it.”

I had no idea what to tell him, or what to leave out. I felt like I needed a lawyer present, but he was the only lawyer I knew.

“Tina, do you understand I don’t want to be—”

“Disbarred,” I said.

Kevin closed his eyes and his head dropped. “Heartbroken. I don’t want to be heartbroken, but maybe it’s already too late.” He stood up and went to the window to look out, at anything. “You should have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“You haven’t actually denied anything, do you realize that? You haven’t said, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kevin, nothing illegal’s going on, I never stole any money from the Titan Corporation.”

“Kevin.” I joined him at the window. “Nothing illegal’s going on.” Beat. “Anymore.”

“I don’t believe this.” He stormed to the other side of his tiny living room. “I don’t believe this!”

“Please, don’t freak out on me.” I followed after him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I was only trying to protect you.”

“No. No, you don’t get to rationalize any part of this. I put up with a lot, but you stole money from Robert Barlow?”

“It wasn’t stealing exactly.”

“And Emily, too?”

“It’s kind of all her fault.”

“Oh my god. What were you two thinking?”

“Kevin, listen to me . . .” My mind raced in such a way that I experienced every trauma to come in sped-up form: the getting kicked to the curb, the being left there to die, alone, forever and ever.

But I had nothing to say for myself. I had no valid excuses. What we did was wrong, it was so wrong! So I did the only thing I could do. I grabbed Kevin by the collar and shoved my tongue into his mouth.

He hurled me off him like I was a ravenous zombie. “You’re insane,” he said. “And I think you need to go.”

“You can’t kick me out,” I cried. “I love you!”

“Now? Now you decide to say that?”