“So you stepped in with your deep pockets and saved the day,” I said.
He shook his head. Adamantly. “I didn’t save the day, Eve. All I did was even the scales a bit. Life is a fickle bitch and wants to give you a hand up just as much as she wants to shove you back down. If I’m in a position to help those who have fallen on her sword like I have, I’ll damn well do it.”
His eyes weren’t somewhere else anymore. No, they were right there, blazing before me. Henry rarely did impassioned, but what he’d just said and how he’d said it clearly indicated that when he did do impassioned, he did it exceptionally well.
“When did you fall on fate’s sword, Henry Callahan?” I leaned forward. He’d lived, by all definitions of the concept, a charmed life. He grew up with wealth and privilege. He had a mind geniuses before him would envy, a body that girls wanted to run their hands all over, and one of the top IT companies in the nation. As far as victims of fate’s sword, Henry was somewhere at the end of the line.
Henry tilted his head, studying my face for long enough I wanted to shift in my seat. Of course I didn’t—shifting under a man’s penetrating stare was for amateurs—but I wanted to.
After clearing his throat, he answered. “The day you walked out of my life.” My mouth snapped open to utter, accuse, or holler something, but Henry cut me off. “Correction—the day you sprinted out of my life.”
I wanted to glare at him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to splash a glass of water in his face, call him a vile name, and march out, but I couldn’t. I wanted to slap his face before turning around and sprinting out of his life again, but I couldn’t.
The Eve I’d been born wanted one thing, but the Eve I’d become had to do the opposite.
Whatever it felt like to live in harmony with myself, I was on the planet farthest away from that happy little place.
“Paperwork.” I eyed the stack beneath Henry’s arm. Apparently I was on the planet pretty damn far away from a land of smooth transitions, too.
Henry watched me for a few seconds—waiting for me to say something—before sighing. “Yeah, paperwork.” His gaze shifted from me to the stack, and he thumbed through it. “Most of it is already filled out so we won’t be here until next week. I just mainly need some signatures.”
It looked like just about everything had been filled out except for the signatures. When I thought about who had filled out something as mundane and tedious as my paperwork, my stomach coiled. Part of my plan was to surprise the shit out of Ms. Gatekeeper, aka the competition. No doubt filling out pages and pages of an application for some young woman who the boss had taken an interest in had alerted her.
“From the looks of it, your secretary’s hand must be ready to fall off.” The silver lining? She’d only have one set of claws to come at me with.
“I don’t know about her, but mine’s one page away.” Henry gave his hand a dramatic shake.
“You filled out my paperwork?” My eyebrows came together.
“Yeah, who else would have?” Henry shrugged as though it was obvious. “Besides, Eve, who knows you better than I do?”
Myself. But that was a lie. Other than being consumed by revenge and an illicit career, I’d lost my bearing a while ago. I was still moving ahead and not necessarily aimlessly, but somewhere along the way, I’d misplaced my compass. The only thing worse than losing it was having no clue where to search for it.
So instead of answering with a blatant lie or arguing that he didn’t have a clue who I was, I ignored his comment altogether. When in doubt, playing ignorant, avoidance, or ignoring worked well. “You might need a Social Security Number along with those signatures, right?” Take that, Henry Callahan. You don’t know everything about me. Insert tongue sticking out here.
“Well, actually . . .” Henry flashed the first page in front of me.
I would have choked on the Guinness Tom had just slid in front of me if I’d taken a sip. “How the hell do you know my Social Security Number?” I almost yelped before catching myself. My emotion had flared, and I’d fallen out of character. I couldn’t fall out of character with Henry, not if I was going to get the Errand done. “I mean . . . how did you know it?”
Henry took a sip of his beer and didn’t seem eager to meet my stare. “You told me it one night. Back when we were together. Do you remember?”
I searched my memories of my time with Henry. Since I’d tried to set fire to each one of them, I had a difficult time finding the one he was talking about. I shook my head.