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“I’ll be right there,” she says.

When she steps inside, she closes the door behind her without being asked.

She doesn’t sit.

That tells me everything.

“This is personal,” I say. “Not work.”

Her expression doesn’t soften. “Then talk.”

I don’t decorate it.

“The night at The Vault,” I begin.

Jamie’s eyes flicker—just once. Not surprise. Recognition.

“I didn’t know she was going to be there.”

“And you still ended up with her,” she says.

“Yes,” I reply. “Because she was roofied.”

Jamie exhales sharply.

“I took her to the hospital. She stayed at my place. Mark and Alex were there. I didn’t leave her alone.”

“That’s not why you called me in here,” Jamie says.

She’s right.

“The next night,” I say, “I went back out.”

“To forget her,” Jamie says flatly.

“Yes.”

I keep going.

“I drank too much. I went home with someone. I didn’t get her name.”

Silence.

“And then you took Audra to dinner,” she says.

“Yes.”

“And you were intimate with her,” she continues. Not a question.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell Audra.”

“No.”

Jamie steps closer.

“Do you know what you did,” she asks.