“I know,” I said quickly. “I’m ridiculous.”
A slow smile tugged at his lips. “Are you telling me something,” he asked, “or asking?”
I swallowed. “I’m saying, if you were still hypothetically interested in that desk…”
Silence stretched between us, charged with something that could catch fire if one of us struck the match.
Jay straightened, stepping around the desk and walking toward me very slowly.
“I’m definitely interested,” he said quietly, “but just for the record, this was your idea.”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “One hundred percent mine.”
His gaze darkened. “Then,” he murmured, “you should probably come over here.”
I was still thinking about the kiss in his office when I got home.
I closed the door to my side of the house and leaned against it, smiling like a character in a movie as I reminisced for a few moments. A giggle even escaped me.
A freaking giggle.
I climbed the stairs, unable to wipe the stupid grin offmy face, until I stepped into the kitchen. I was setting my things down, still lost in my own little world, when I spotted theCOMPLAINT FORMJay had printed sitting on the counter.
I stilled, my eyes locking onto the paper.
All thoughts of Jay lifting me onto his desk and kissing me evaporated instantly.
I reached for the form and let out a heavy sigh. I really needed to get this over with, or it was just going to keep haunting me.
I grabbed my laptop and sat on the couch, a sudden determination settling into my bones.
I pulled up the website and followed the instructions on the paper. I filled out the questions without letting myself think too deeply about what I was doing. I typed the information, pressed “Next” when prompted, and twenty minutes later it was done.
I submitted the complaint against Dr. Pike.
It was official.
I closed my laptop and sat there in complete silence, barely moving.
I waited for something to happen. For lightning to strike. For tears to spill down my face.
But nothing did.
I didn’t feel relief or dread.
I don’t think I knew how to process what I’d done yet.
There was nothing left to do now but wait and hope that somehow, it would be enough.
CHAPTER 52
When the weekend rolled around, I took the time to call Emily and catch her up on life. I sat on my balcony with my legs tucked beneath me, my phone on the table in front of me on speaker.
“So,” Emily said. “You’ve been weirdly evasive all morning.”
“I have not,” I said defiantly. But in truth, I had been.
“You said ‘good’ three times in a row and then changed the subject,” she countered. “That’s called evasion.”
