Page 58 of The Associate
How would he look at him? Where would he put his eyes? Would Gael acknowledge the kiss? Would he reference it withone of those slicing, quiet remarks? Or would it be business as usual, the most terrifying option of all; a silent testament to how insignificant the moment had been to him, how easily he could consume a piece of Samuel’s soul and then return to his paperwork?
And what if he touched him?
The memory of Gael’s body pressing him into the door was so vivid Samuel’s knees weakened under the shower spray. He braced a hand against the slick tile.
He had no idea how he was going to do it. The mechanics of breathing, speaking, moving under the weight of that knowledge felt impossible. He was two people now: the one who had kissed back, and the one who was horrified by it.
Which one was supposed to show up for work?
The water began to run lukewarm, then cool. He didn’t move. He stood there, shivering now, staring at the water beading and streaking down the white subway tiles.
He turned the water off.
He stood in the dripping chill, the weight of the coming day settling on his bare shoulders, a dread so profound it felt like gravity increasing, pulling him down through the tile, through the floor, into a final, quiet oblivion.
But the floor held.
Chapter 15
Samuel
The familiar hum of the office felt different.
Every sound was a potential detonation. The hiss of the main doors opening down the hall made Samuel’s pen skid across the document he was supposedly reviewing. The click of heels on the polished floor behind his chair tightened the muscles across his shoulders into painful knots.
He kept his head down, his eyes burning into the same paragraph of a patent application for the last twenty minutes. The words were a grey, meaningless slurry.
A shadow fell across his desk. He flinched, a full-body recoil he barely stifled.
It was Alina.
She leaned over the partition, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. “Breathe, Ruiz. You look like you’re waiting for a firing squad.”
She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, the scent of her peppermint tea wafting over. “I come bearing good news. The squad is otherwise engaged. Wise is in court all day. JudgeLandry’s marathon session on the Vandelay appeal. I heard the clerk say it could go past eight. I doubt we’ll see his shadow until tomorrow.”
She straightened, a grin breaking across her face. “Which means,” she announced, holding up a bag of obscenely expensive sea salt and vinegar chips, “we can chill. Maybe even have a little party.”
Samuel looked from her face to the bag of chips. A response was required. He felt his facial muscles engage, pulling his lips upward.
“Sounds good,” he forced the words out.
Alina, blessedly, didn’t seem to notice the dissonance. She was already tearing into the bag with a satisfying crinkle.
“See?” she said around a mouthful. “The universe provides. Now, eat a chip and try to look at something that isn’t a deposition. For both our sakes.”
The relief hit him then. Not as a gentle wave, but as a sudden, violent withdrawal of pressure, leaving him lightheaded and weak-kneed under his desk.
He isn’t here.
The shadow would not fall across his desk today. The low voice would not summon him. The gaze would not dissect him from across a room. The air in the bullpen seemed to expand, becoming breathable again.
But as the initial, dizzying surge of safety receded, something else seeped into the space it left behind. A hollow feeling. A peculiar flatness. The high-alert tension had been agonizing, but it had been a purpose. Now, with the threat removed, there wasjust… the empty office. The blurry document. The passing of time.
A treacherous, quiet thought whispered:So he’s just… gone?
He recoiled from it, mentally slamming a door. He couldn’t examine that. He wouldn’t. The relief was the only permissible emotion. It was the lifeline. He clung to it.
For the rest of the day, he operated like an automaton. He answered emails. He refilled his water glass three times. He jumped when George dropped a heavy binder on his desk. The relief, initially so potent, began to curdle as the hours stretched. The reprieve was temporary. Tomorrow was a cliff edge on the horizon.
