ENTRY 7
LOVE IN ISOLATION
"It's positive."
I freeze in my spot at the threshold of the door to her office, leaning against the wall as she desperately throws two hands in the air for me to stop in my tracks.
Those two words are usually what people want to hear. Positive means uplifting. Inspiring.
Or, in this case, dangerous.
Extremely contagious.
"So now you have to quarantine?"
"We both do." Bella groans. "Me because I'm positive and you because you've been in contact with me. Don't come any closer!"
I roll my eyes at the woman who is technically my employer but more like a friend.
"Bella, we work together in this sorry excuse of an office," I add, looking around at chipped paint and peeling wallpaper. I can barely call it in an office - it's a shoebox with a partition separating two tinier spaces: hers and mine.
"So? I'm positive - you're not. This is as close as we can get."
It'll be hard for me to distance myself from her. It's the last thing I want. Working as Isabella Swan's assistant pays virtually nothing if one would peek at my bank account.
But in falling in love?
I'm a fucking millionaire.
She has no idea. At least, I think she's clueless when it comes to how I feel about her.
"For how long?" I question, wondering if it would be possible with how often I'm at her desk. Admittedly, it doesn't take much for me to find an excuse to be in her office, talking about anything related to the accounting business she's started from the ground up. She probably thinks I'm some worthless moron with these ridiculous questions about all the receipts from her clients, but the truth is that each question I ask allows me more time to be with her.
"Until I'm negative, at least."
I hope the panic I feel inside doesn't show on the outside.
"That could be – "
"Forever, with my luck." She pouts. "I'm sorry, Edward."
I take a step towards her desk, then remember I'm not allowed when she puts a finger up in protest, and step back into my place against the door.
"Hey, it's not your fault. The timing sucks, but we'll manage." I shoot her a smile from across the room. "We always do."
While it's not the crunch of tax season just yet, we are already feeling the influx from her clients. It will prove to be difficult with Bella working from home for a few weeks and me working from the office.
"Wait." I watch as she claps two hands to her mouth. "I can't go home to my roommate. She won't let me in the apartment when she finds out I'm positive."
Bella is right. Alice will go ballistic.
"What are you saying?"
She sighs. "I'll be staying here."
I let out a sigh to match hers, scratching the back of my head.
"Should I get the inflatable mattresses ready?"
"Yep." She nods, throwing herself into her chair before looking up at me in alarm. "Wait – mattresses?"
"Well, obviously, I can't let you stay here alone. My roommates will flip, too."
"Edward, that's ridiculous." She laughs it off. "You don't have to stay here just becau-"
"I want to, Bella."
"Are you sure?"
Once again, the word that started this conversation turns uplifting.
"Positive."
-LII-
It isn't long until our quarantine turns lousy.
It was inevitable that I would eventually test positive as well. Our days are spent napping and giving pep talks to each other in hopes it will give us motivation to shower in the locker rooms provided by a gym that rents a space in the same building as Bella's office.
Our symptoms are manageable, the worst being the fatigue that settles into our bones, making work useless the first week. By the second week, we make it out of our inflatable mattresses for an hour at a time. Our work is conducted lying on pillows and under blankets, tossing M&M packages over the top of the flimsy partition between us.
As horrible as it is, and as ghastly as we look with red noses from tissues and dark circles under our eyes from how tired we are, I've loved every single minute of this quarantine.
Sixteen days together; I think she feels the same.
We've brought my mattress into her office, the isolation and confinement getting to us. They're separated just enough to remain a respectable distance, but she manages to share mine. We're leaning against the wall, my laptop in front of us as we decide our next Netflix binge when she sighs and drops her head onto my shoulder.
"I'm glad it was you."
"Hmm?"
"That I had to quarantine with." Her eyes close in contentment. "Can't imagine anyone else I'd want to be here with."
I notice the date on the bottom right of the computer screen, wondering if it has anything to do with her admission in the dark confines of her office.
Valentine's Day.
I know the date on the calendar is not what has me digging through her stash of random office decorations in the middle of the night.
The truth is, I've loved her from the moment she interviewed me, before she offered me the job to help keep me on my feet while I finished my master's. But it's not the date that has me stealing her pink Post-it notes off her desk while she sleeps.
It's her.
She's the one that has me arranging Command Strips and stringing holiday lights in the shape of a heart on the wall next to her filing cabinet. She's the one who has me adding those pink Post-Its to my heart-shaped lights on the wall.
It's always been her.
And when she wakes in the middle of the night to see what I've done, the kiss she places against my lips tells me it will always be her.
Of that, I am positive.
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