I nod before remembering that he can’t see me.
“And Brigit.”
“Yeah,” I say breathlessly, slamming my laptop shut and bolting out of my chair to grab the code Cormac said I would need off the fridge.
He groans, “You might see things in that office that you won’t like. But I need you not to freak out. Cormac will explaineverything.”
Now both of them have warned me about what might be in there, making me only more afraid of it.
He doesn’t say anything else, the phone line going dead before I can give his ominous statement any sort of reaction.
But if he’s worried, I need to be doubly worried. He’s never been anything but humorous, even when cleaning up a dead body and using me to lie to the cops about it.
The wall safe looks as if it used to be covered with a painting, a large rectangle around it slightly lighter than the rest of the wall.
Fighting against the shaking, I type in the code, wondering how on earth a wall safe is going to open up into a safe room.
The second I push the last button, something clicks somewhere behind the safe, and the wall itself cracks open.
Easing it the rest of the way, I step through into a pitch-black void, using only my free hand to feel along the wall for a light switch.
When I finally find it and the room comes to life, I have to cover my eyes from just how bright it is in here. Once they adjust and I can see everything, I take my first calm breath since coming down the stairs, closing the hidden door behind me. I’m not sure how to get it back open, but that’s a problem for later.
Why did they feel the need to scare me?
It’s just an office.
Yes, a hidden office.
And yes, I’m sure there’s stuff in those filing cabinets that I would hate, but they made it seem like I was going to findcorpsesor something in here.
At the desk, dark brown rings overlap across the wood, and Ishake my head, running my fingers along them, searching for some kind of connection to Cormac even when he’s far away.
I wonder how much time he spent here in this room, locked away in the silence. If this is where he did most of his work.
Based on the polar opposite upkeep of the immaculately clean desktop and wildly dusty coffee table, I’m guessing he uses this a lot more than the couches.
I’m obsessing over decorative choices.
In his secret office, I’m trying so hard to find anything to think about besides what might be hidden in here that I’m mentally spiraling over dusty fucking furniture.
But if I don’t, there’s no telling what kind of dark shit I will convince myself is in here, hidden in the drawers or cabinets.
If I still had a job, I could at least spend my time doing something for that.
Drafting contracts would be adreamright now.
The perfect distraction. But all I can do is wander aimlessly through the stark, gray concrete room and twiddle my thumbs.
Before I abandon the desk altogether to continue exploring, I see a vaguely familiar photo in my peripherals.
As my hand reaches for it, a small smile pulls my lips up.
Cormac briefly showed me a picture of us together the night we met, but I didn’t know there were more.
One of us dancing, him staring at me with that same wide-eyed wonder he doesn’t bother to hide or muddle. My head thrown back in laughter, his hand almost inappropriately low.
Next to it, there’s one of him getting me to try drinks from that night. There’s no hiding the pink in my cheeks in that one. Even though I wasn’t ready to accept it then, Cormac’s attention has always made me feel alive and desired in a way I don’t know if I deserve.
