“Look, I don’t know—whatever you want to know. If Teagan ever told me, I overwrote the space with bird facts.”
Rose squinted at her suspiciously.
“Do you want me to find out?” Darcy asked. “Teagan’s not really the secret plan type.”
The other woman sighed. “We’re spending more on programs than we’re bringing in via donations or investments. So either we need to raise more money or Teagan’s going to eventually liquidate the endowment. And either would be fine with me. But it’s not fine with the board, which raises fiduciary concerns—”
“I don’t really know what any of those words mean,” Darcy said. “But I’m sorry? Or glad? Which is right?”
Adrian made a muffled noise like he’d stifled a laugh but snorted instead. Rose glared at him.
“I don’t supposeyouknow what the board wants to do about cash flow,” she said.
“No. I am also very careful not to pay attention when Nora’s talking business,” he said, perfect features unruffled.
Rose rubbed her face. “Where was I the day they were handing out rich partners?” she mumbled to herself. “I could have expensive hobbies. I could paint. I like birds.”
“It was your choice to study something frivolous like accounting,” Adrian said, delicately flipping through pages of antidepressant ads, eyes still on his magazine. “I knew I wanted the flexibility of a career as a kept woman when I got my MFA in studio art.”
Rose closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “That wasn’t a dig,” she groaned. Her eyes flicked to Darcy. “At either of you. I’m jealous, honestly.”
Darcy wondered whether she needed to reinforce that she wasn’t actually Teagan’s girlfriend. If Teagan did in fact settle into sobriety and thank her for her time at the end of three months, Darcy wanted the dignity of considering herself not dumped.
But there was a part of her—maybe not the best part, sure, but a new part—that preened at the idea that she’d secured the bag, that she had a life someone else wanted, that she had her shit together. Nobody had ever thought Darcy had her shit together.
“So, I am happy to talk about my career path as a sober companion,” she began to say, but the door to the interior conference room where Teagan had gone with Nora flew open so hard it banged into the opposite wall.
Teagan flew out of it, at a pace just short of a run, and ducked into the restroom a few steps away.
Adrian and Rose both looked at Darcy, their eyes rounded with alarm. This was apparently not expected behavior in the Van Zijl Foundation workplace.
Oh shit.
“Excuse me,” Darcy said brightly, trying to project the confidence of a person who definitely knew what was going on. “I’ll go handle that.”
•••••
I am not having a heart attack.
I am not having a heart attack.
Teagan repeated that to himself, even as every instinct shrieked that he was dying. Fear raced along every nerve at the speed of lightning, collecting in an aching pool in his chest. Everything was wrong. He was breathing wrong. His heart was beating wrong. He was going to fall, he was going to throw up, he was going to pass out.
He was not having a heart attack.
This would pass. He told himself things that he’d learned intellectually, even as the corner of his mind that could still think intellectually was overwhelmed by the animal core that could do nothing but fear and shriek of shame and danger. This would pass, because there wasn’t actually anything wrong with him, and this was all in his head.
Thank God there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom. He leaned against the door, his entire body shaking.
This will pass. This is all in my head. This isn’t really happening.
“Teagan?” He heard Darcy’s voice through the bathroom door. She knocked. “Teagan? Are you okay?”
He was breathing too hard to answer. He couldn’t make his voice work. After another syrupy, painful ten seconds, she pushed against the door to open it. Teagan pushed back to keep it closed, then pushed the lock closed with trembling fingers.
“Jesus Christ!” Darcy snapped when she discovered that the door was now locked. “Teagan, tell me what’s going on.”
He managed to force out, “I’m fine.” He knew he didn’tsound fine. He probably hadn’t looked fine to anyone in the conference room. They were probably in there talking about it now, wondering what was wrong with him.
