I end the call.
My body ripples with energy. I want to head to the airport immediately and get back to Chicago. But it won’t help. It’ll probably just make it worse.
“Is everything okay?” Holt asks.
I blow out a breath. “I work and live in the same building.Apparently, asbestos was found and the building’s been emptied until it’s fixed.”
“That’s fun.”
“Right?” I rub my temples again. “There’s nothing I can do. I just need to make a list and look at my calendar and see if I need to push anything back.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
His tone is kind and sincere. I drop my hand and appreciate him sitting across from me.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “I do probably need to go and see which one of my brothers I’m going to stay with.”
“If I was ever homeless, I wouldn’t be living with my brothers. That’s for sure.”
I laugh. “Yeah. It’s not the best-sounding solution, but it beats staying in a hotel for God knows how long.”
Holt shifts in his seat. He starts to talk but stops. Then slowly, his lips part again. “I have an idea.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Stay here.”
I laugh again. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, first of all, even if I wanted to, all the hotels are booked for the weekend. Something about a seafood festival.”
He nods. “Yeah. I forgot about that.”
“Second of all, I need to work. I need quiet. The people across the hallway this morning had a crying baby while I took a shower. That was irritating enough. I can’t imagine how that would go over when I’m actually picking apart witness statements, and someone’s freedom is on the line.”
His chest rises and falls. With each second that passes, the rhythm grows quicker.
He leans forward again, his eyes searching mine.
Our food is untouched between us. Our drinks have barely a sip removed.
My brain slows down as time seems to stall around our table, andHolt begins to speak.
“Stay with me,” he says.
It’s a simple sentence—three whole words. But it feels like he’s just spoken a complex mathematical equation in Mandarin because he can’t possibly be asking me to stay with him.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Stay with me,” he says again—this time with more force.
“And you called me confounding.”
He shifts in his seat again. “I’m just going to lay out a few facts as I see them, and then you can make whatever decision works for you.”
I don’t respond. I’m not sure what to say.
