Page 175 of The Marriage Clause

Everly presses a kiss to my cheek at the door, which she hasn’t done since I was maybe twelve, and says, "Don’t spiral. It ruins your skin."

Christian catches my eye over her shoulder. Holds it for a second.

"That was almost support," I tell him.

"Don’t get used to it."

The door closes.

The office goes quiet.

City lights wash the windows blue and white. The lamp on my desk throws a circle over paperwork nobody’s touching. An elevator dings somewhere down the hall. Then nothing.

I loosen my tie. Run both hands through my hair.

And then it hits.

Not the warning this time. Not the cold hands and the fine shake and the manageable version I’ve been white-knuckling through for the last six hours.

The real thing.

My heart rate goes from resting to pounding so fast I feel it in my teeth. My chest locks. The air that was fine a second ago won’t go down—it catches halfway and stays there, and I can’t get it through. I try. It won’t move.

I can’t breathe.

That’s it. That’s the only thought. The strategy is gone. The plan is gone. Christian’s legal briefs, Everly’s media wall—gone. My hands are gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to turn my knuckles white and the room is shrinking and my body has decided, without consulting my brain, that something is very wrong.

I slide out of the chair and down to the floor. Back against the desk.

Knees up. Palms flat on the carpet.

Ground.

Carpet. Desk. Cold air on my neck. Watch on my wrist.

The lamp.

The window.

The door.

Traffic.

The hum of the building doing what buildings do at nine o’clock at night when everybody with a normal life has gone home.

Breathe.

Four in. I get to two and a half.

Again. Three.

Again. Almost four.

The room stops moving.

My pulse drops out of my throat. Not settled. Just... less.

I don’t know how long I sit there. A few minutes. Maybe ten. Long enough for the worst of it to pass and leave me feeling hollowed out. Empty. Like something inside my chest got clenched too hard and doesn’t know how to release.