"That's the one."
Silence stretched.
Garrett said nothing, but his posture had shifted, shoulders squared, weight balanced, watching Pierce the way he probably watched suspicious structures during a fire. Evaluating. Calculating.
"Well." Pierce tucked the box under his arm. "I'll let you get back to work."
"Good seeing you," I said, which was a lie, and opened the door wider.
He paused at the threshold. Looked back at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You look good, Sloane. Busy suits you."
Then he turned and headed down the hall.
I closed the door. Leaned against it. Let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"You okay?" Garrett asked.
"Fine. He's harmless." I pushed off the door, started gathering the takeout containers because I needed something to do with my hands. "We dated for about two years. He proposed a few months ago."
Something flickered across Garrett's face. He didn't say anything.
"But he had conditions," I continued, dumping containers into the trash with more force than necessary. "Marry him, quit my job, become a housewife. Host dinner parties for his business partners. Raise kids in the suburbs." I paused. "Never write another word that might embarrass his family's hedge fund."
I tied off the trash bag.
"I said no."
Garrett nodded slowly.
I watched his expression shift, the tension in his jaw easing, the concern in his eyes giving way to something that looked like relief. And underneath that, something else. Something that looked almost like longing.
Like he'd been bracing for a different answer. Like hearing I'd chosen myself, chosen my work, my life, my freedom, meant something to him he wasn't ready to say out loud.
"I should go," he said finally. "It's late."
"Yeah." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "Are you on shift tomorrow?"
"Twenty-four hours. Starting at seven."
Tomorrow. I wasn't going to see him tomorrow.
The disappointment that settled in my chest caught me off guard. We'd been working together for barely a week. I shouldn't miss him yet.
But I felt like I was going to.
"Okay," I said. "Be safe."
Something softened in his expression. "I'll text you when I'm off shift."
He said it the same way he used to, back when we first started dating. Casual. Easy. Like checking in was just something he did, something that didn't need explaining.
I tried to shake the thought away. Smiled. Nodded.
He gathered his jacket. Paused at the door, hand on the frame.
"Good night, Sloane."
