Page 33 of Love Decoded

Almost immediately, my breathing starts to grow labored. Fuck. Not another panic attack. I don’t have time for this.

I stumble over to the window and open it, sucking in a deep lungful of air when the cool air hits my face. Okay. I can keep it together long enough to figure this out.

I’ve had to solve for plenty of things on my own. Between my teenage years often being spent in areas like this, and being entirely responsible for myself ever since, I’ve dealt with plenty of struggle. I’m confident in my ability to problem-solve and keep myself safe. But right now, I can’t remember a single time I had to make a huge decision in a moment this desperate.

I have to get out of here. I need to get out tonight.

But where do I go?

Between having to put a three-month security deposit down for this apartment and waiting to get my security deposit back from my New York apartment, I don’t have enough money for a new apartment. I don’t even have enough money for a decent hotel for the weekend. And to make matters more difficult, I need a place that’s cat friendly.

Even without an answer, I start to pack my things. I need to get out of here. I’ll figure it out.

I’m about to say fuck it and head to the shittiest motel I can find when it hits me: the office.

It’s early Friday evening, which means the office is going to empty out soon. And even though the law firm is filled with people who work entirely too much, even lawyers don’t—usually—go into the office on weekends. They work, but at least they work from home. Which means I can probably get away with holing up in the conference room for the weekend. Worst case, if I get caught, I can just say I’m working on the case and following a promising lead. Lucas did say the office was open to me 24/7, didn’t he?

A sneeze from Milton decides me. I’ll wait a little bit for the stairwell to empty out, and then to the office we go.

THIRTEEN

LUCAS

“Sure, give me a minute, and I’ll have the signed contract in your inbox,” I say into my phone, a heavy sigh stuck in my throat. It’s almost 10 p.m. on a Friday night, and I’m walking back into an empty office to scan in the contract that my client just had to hand-sign before his dinner meeting.

Once I hang up the phone, I quickly slide the papers through the scanner on Samantha’s desk and fire off the files to my boss. I’m turning back toward the elevator when I hear a sound coming from down the hall.

Who on earth is still here this late?

Frowning, I change my direction and walk toward the sound.

It takes me a grand total of three steps to realize it’s coming from the conference room that Charli took over.

Well, the one she had taken over. Before you kissed her.

The memory of it makes me warm with shame. I know she said I’m not the reason she hasn’t been in the office, but it’s hard for me to believe that.

Which is also why I pause to stare at the closed conference room door. Why is she here?

More importantly, is she here because she thought I wouldn’t be?

I decide that I need an answer. I need to put eyes on her, just for a second.

When I rap lightly on the door, the quiet shuffling that originally got my attention stops.

“Charli?”

I might be the tiniest bit impatient because I only give her a few seconds to open the door. When she doesn’t, I open it myself.

With a squeak, she jumps back from where she was reaching for the door.

“What??”

I level a frown at her, thrown off by this entire situation. “I was just checking on you. Are you…okay?”

She plasters a smile on her face, and it’s so foreign that I wonder if I need to start checking for a fever.

“Of course I’m okay,” she says in a high-pitched voice. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”