Page 102 of Digging Up Love
“He was kissing his girlfriend in her backyard.” Alisha gripped the sides of her purse, willing the flashes of memory away. Steeling her resolve. “Are your staff not allowed to date? Do they need to submit their partner choices for peer review?”
“Ms.Blake—”
“I’m pretty sure the only thing that makes you look bad is how eager you were to invalidate a colleague’s role in a groundbreaking discovery.” She stood, scraping her chair against the concrete. Shouldered her purse and looked down at Dr.Yates, waiting for him to meet hereyes. Then she summoned her last reserve of courage and found her voice.
“The choice is yours, Dr.Yates. Lose out on access to the discovery of a lifetime, or give a deserving man his job back.”
Legs still wobbly after her confrontation with Quentin’s boss, Alisha walked off the elevator and up to a familiar apartment door. She opened the lock with her spare key and stepped inside. Fingertips to the entryway wall, she slid off one heel, then the other. She squatted down to stack the pumps neatly by the door. Arriving midday would give her a few hours to collect herself before launching into phase two of her mission.
“Ali?”
Or not.
Caught unawares like a cat burglar, she looked up to find her sister walking out of the hallway from the bedroom. “Sim! I didn’t think you’d be home yet.” She took in the dark circles under Simone’s eyes, the silk wrap around her edges. A baggy Bulls tee and men’s boxers dwarfed her slender frame. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”
“Really with the interrogation? This is my place; I don’t need to answer to you.” Hands on her slim hips, Simone exuded the haughty authority of a deified cat in ancient Egypt. “But no, I’m not sick. I’m unemployed.” She dropped the bombshell without emotion, typical Sim.
A car alarm went off somewhere below, breaking the silence that followed. Alisha straightened up, wary. “Unemployed?”
“Yep. Surprise.” Simone made sarcastic jazz hands.
“Since when?”
“Yesterday.” She slouched over to the couch and fell backward, tossing her stockinged feet up on the glass coffee table. “What I thoughtwas a promotion was actually a ‘Kindly pack up your things and go screw yourself.’”
Hesitant, Alisha hovered at the edge of the living room, but Simone pushed up onto her elbows, forestalling any consolation. “I don’t want sisterly wisdom right now. What I do want to know is, Why the heck are you here?”
She gulped. Pressed her lips together. “I have news.” If telling her sister was hard before, now, in the wake of Simone’s awful announcement, it seemed downright disrespectful. And yet, what had Meg said?There’s always going to be a dinosaur ...“Good news, but it can wait.”
“Obviously not, if you drove all this way and snuck into my place.”
“It’s not breaking in if I have a key.”
Simone pursed her lips. “Debatable. Now, tell me. What’s the big news?”
Alisha cleared her throat, mustered the courage to use her voice, for herself this time.
For her future.
“I’m moving to Chicago.” All nerves, like a new baker rolling out fondant for a wedding cake, she stomped on her doubts and pushed forward. “Opening up a cookie shop, hopefully by fall.”
Simone’s eyebrows shot up, but she stayed as still as a submerged crocodile. “When were you going to tell me you wanted out?”
“Now. This is me telling you.” Alisha willed iron into her spine.
“Is this because of Quentin? Because I liked him, but dang, sis, you don’t need to sell out for a man.”
Alisha shook her head. “Selling out is the opposite of what I’m doing. I’m finally following my dreams.”
“But what about the noise? The crowds?”
She twisted a curl near her temple. “Yeah, so I haven’t been the most honest with you.”
“The most honest?” Simone leaped off the couch, her calm facade falling away in an instant. “The mosthonest? You’ve been lying through your little teeth.”
She deserved that. “I have been, for a long time. Look, I’m sorry, Sim. I know this seems sudden, and I should’ve told you. I—” Alisha latched on to the back of one of the black leather barstools, scrambling for a foothold among seven years of half truths.
“What about Honey and Hickory?” Simone worked her jaw sideways. “Where does that leave Grandpa?”
