Silas
I makemyself wait until 9:05 before I knock on the door of Kat’s office. After she called me last night and told me about dinner, part of me wanted to march in there the moment I got to work so I could plant myself between her and Meckler, but I know better. Kat can handle herself and might kill me if I tried to handle anything for her.
Which doesn’t mean I wouldn’t finish anything he started. Just that he’d have to start it.
“Morning, babe,” I say, when she tells me to come in. “Happy Fri—”
Meckler’s desk is empty, the only thing left of him is a monitor sitting on his chair, the cord wrapped around it like a sad tail.
“If you need help hiding a body…” I say, and raise an eyebrow at her.
“I’d have asked a month ago instead of waiting until now,” she says. “They were taking the computer out when I got here this morning. I guess he’s taking an extra-long weekend.”
Kat is grinning at me. Grinning. She’s happier and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her at work: spinning back and forth in her office hair, hands laced on top of her head, pleased and carefree and I just want to drink her in, like this.
“Month’s up,” I say, and lean against the desk that used to be his. “How does it feel to be free of contractual obligations?”
Kat laughs, and something warm flares behind my ribcage.
“We’ve still got that thing tomorrow,” she points out. “Then we’re free.”
“Just until the Christmas party,” I say, and she scrunches her nose at me. “Look, you’re the one who kept sleeping with me. I don’t make the rules.”
“Fine,” she says, but she’s laughing and spins all the way around in her chair.
“You can skip the party tomorrow if you want,” I tell her. “It’s fine. They know you exist.”
“You RSVP’d for me.”
“I’m a lawyer. I promise I can get you out of it if you want.”
Her eyes narrow behind her glasses, and she stops twisting back and forth in the chair.
“Is this because I freaked out at the last one?”
“No, it’s because you’ve had a bad month in a bad year and I don’t want small talk with lawyers to be the rotten cherry on top,” I say.
“Ew.”
“Sorry.”
“It wasn’t all bad,” she says, and now she’s back to twisting, a devious smile playing across her lips. “Some of it was actually pretty good.”
“Yeah?” I ask, and I can’t stop looking at her: glasses, loose hair, blue wrap shirt over jeans. I want to kiss her and see if she tastes happy. “Like what? Tell me.”
Could be my imagination, but I think she blushes.
“We are not doing that again,” she says, voice low.
“Not ever?”
Kat glances at the door, then back at me.
“Not now.”
“If you insist,” I tell her, and cross my legs at the ankles. She spins in the chair one more time, then looks at me suspiciously.
“Do you not want me to come tomorrow?”