Aldridge heads to the door and pulls it open. He pauses in the frame, turning back to look at me. "We're betting a lot on this partnership. Make sure it's a good bet."
Then he's gone. The heavy door clicks shut, sealing the quiet in the room.
Richard picks up the pen again. Doesn't look at me. "That's all."
I stand and shoulder my laptop bag.
The hallway is empty. The elevator is twenty feet away. I make it fifteen before my hands start trembling.
I stop. Press my palm against the wall. The plaster is cool. I breathe.
In through my nose. Four counts.
Out through my mouth. Four counts.
The elevator button glows when I press it. The doors open. I step inside, hit the lobby button, and watch the floor numbers descend as my pulse slowly comes down from crisis level.
Outside, the sharp, freezing air cuts into my face. The brutal contrast with the overheated office makes my eyes water. I walk half a block before the adrenaline dump hits—my hands won't stop shaking, and my knees feel loose.
I stop on the sidewalk. Pull out my phone.
We need to talk. Not at the site. Meet me at The Grind—10th and Wythe.
Not the Donut. The Donut is Boss Babes territory. I need neutral ground.
His reply comes in forty seconds.
When?
Now.
The Grind is half-empty. It's eleven-fifteen on a Friday. I take the corner table, back to the wall.
The barista is a guy in his twenties with tattoo sleeves. "What can I get you?"
"Black coffee. Medium."
The words are out before I process them. Tom's drink. I ordered Tom's drink on autopilot.
He nods. Two minutes later he sets the cup in front of me. Steam curls off the surface.
I wrap my hands around it. The heat soaks into my palms, almost too hot, but I don't let go. Then I look at the cup and my brain catches up.
I push it three inches to the left.
I pull out my laptop. Open my email. Scroll through meeting notes I already read twice. The cursor blinks. I close the email without typing.
The door chime rings. Tom walks in. His hair damp. He scans the room—checks the counter, then the back corner, then finds me. His eyes are tired.
He crosses to the table. Pulls out the chair. Sits.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He glances at the black coffee. Doesn't touch it. Folds his hands on the table and waits.
I take a breath. "Aldridge almost pulled you off the project."
