Page 57 of Engineering a Love Story

“Nothing. Manish can’t tell me what to do,” he says. It’s so childish, I turn and stare at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.

I can’t believe Seth wants to just continue. His casualness felt like a gift in the beginning, but now it’s so obviously reckless and irresponsible, disrespectful to my situation and his own.

“The thing is,” Seth continues, “I don’t work for Manish. I work for Jack. Manish treats me a little too much like his secretary. And he judges me. This is just one more thing for him to lord over me.”

“I’m asking about us. Not your relationship with Manish.”

“But he diminishes me in the eyes of the executive team—Vita and the others.” I exhale a breath of frustration. Seth’s pace quickens. “And fucking Vita. Manish is blaming me too for overselling but it’s Vita who hasn’t delivered PayNow—”

I pull up short. “Stop. Stop talking.” But there’s no removing what he’s said from my mind. Queasiness flushes through me.

“Sorry. Forget I said that.” Seth keeps walking. I take a few quick steps to catch up.

“You don’t understand. That’s difficult for me to do. You can’t casually toss out stuff like that. You’re so casual about everything—I mean, think of my emotional state.” I let go of a dark laugh. “That stupid subject line, forwarding our emails, and now blurting out your state secrets. Do you ever worry about anything? Ever?” Fear simmers in me and this morphs into frustration with Seth’s inability to simply tell me how he feels, to make any kind of commitment. “I sat with those guys at Citibank, what, four hours ago? What am I supposed to tell them now? Or the next IT team that asks me about your product?”

“You’re working with Citibank?” Seth slows. A swipe of confusion crosses his face, but then it hardens. “Are those guys really going to buy IBM? That’s so stupid.”

I bark a laugh. “Not as stupid as buying PayNow, apparently.” I’m simmering, ready to boil over. “And you know, even if you think they’re stupid, you should do a better job hiding it. Keep your big words under control.”

“What?” Seth’s head swings toward me.

“You know what those guys told me today, after you left their office? They like the Aurelian product, but they couldn’t stand you.” I shake my head with fake, exaggerated concern.

“You knew I met with Citibank today?” Seth has stopped walking and is staring at me.

“I saw you in the lobby.”

“You saw me? And you didn’t …” He turns and takes off walking again, faster this time. “I think you like the James Bond shit.”

“What? No.” I skip forward, trying to keep up. “But I couldn’t … not there.” I won’t say I didn’t believe I could approach him then without touching him. I won’t give him that now.

“I’m sick of all of this. You, Manish … it’s fucking Gilroy, you’re not …” I bristle, waiting to hear what he’s going to say about my work. But he stops. “Never mind.”

When we reach the hotel, Seth swings open the door and steps inside, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, freezing in my silly dress.

I evaluate my options, wondering if I should go upstairs, grab my bag, and go. But it’s too late now to catch a train back to Boston. Simon might cover the expense of a room, if I explained I needed one after all, but the thought of additional lying to anyone at Gilroy increases my nausea. Did I really eat beef cheeks?

Inside, I find Seth waiting by the elevator. When I arrive next to him, he pushes the up button and reaches for my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

The elevator dings, and we step in. I can feel the heat of Seth in the confined space. I don’t want to fight either. I made that Citibank thing sound worse than it was.

In the room, I hesitate, still wondering if I should simply leave. I watch as Seth undresses and gets into bed. Eventually, I climb in beside him still wearing my dress. It’s hardly more than a nightgown anyway.

We lie quietly for a few minutes and then he pulls me close, positioning my body in the cozy pocket beside his. And I allow it. He doesn’t do anything more, though his warmth is so reassuring, there’s a chance I would have allowed that too, despite it all.

“As shitty as it was,” Seth says into my hair, after a long period of quiet, “it was good to talk about you.” I remember my relief when I spoke to Travis. “At some point, Manish just listened. He doesn’t know what to do about any of it either.”

Thirty-Two

Back in Cambridge, I try not to listen for Seth’s call, which doesn’t come. I know I have to assume we’re over, whatever we were. It wasn’t a real relationship. No lengthy break-up scene is required. Still, I want it. Or something. I think of calling him, insisting we at least have the conversation, but as the days pass quietly the rest of that week and through the weekend, I don’t. I need to let it go.

Seth’s slip about PayNow crawls around in the back of my mind too. I should do my own digging to see what I can find out about the product, but in those first days back from New York, I don’t have it in me.

Then on Monday, Forbes publishes a new article on Aurelian.

It’s mid-morning and I’m in my cube just finishing a call when Evan appears behind me and slaps the magazine on my desk. “You have to look at this.”