Monday, Jenna leaves me a message canceling my appointment.
WTF?
I’ve spent my entire life chasing things that move—footballs, pucks, expectations—and Annika just made the mistake of thinking she could outrun me.
I’ve got a headline for her.
She can’t.
Not when it’s taken me so long to figure out how to catch what matters.
Her office lights are still on when I pull into the lot.
It’s late.
Too late for clients.
Not too late for me.
I stare at the door for a good beat, hands firmly on the wheel like I’m about to rob a bank.
This feels different. Not like chasing a win.
It’s something I can’t quite name yet.
I push the door open and head inside.
Jenna looks up from the desk covering her mouth, trying to hide a yawn. “Well,” she says, perking up. “This is unexpected.”
“Is she here? With a client?”
Jenna smiles like she knows something I don’t. “She’s by herself.”
“Good.”
“She’s not expecting you.”
“Even better.”
She tilts her head. “Should I warn her?”
“No.”
Jenna grins and taps her pen against her lips. “I like you.”
Good. I don’t wait for anything else. I walk straight back to her office and knock once before opening it.
She’s not with a client but I see a shadow behind the frosted glass office of her office. That door is open. Iinhale and stand inside the doorframe. She’s beautiful, looking exactly like every other time I’ve been to her office.
Glasses on.
Pen in hand while she types on her computer, but I notice her hands trembling.
Something’s off.
I don’t know what it is yet. I can feel it.
“The session's canceled,” she says without looking up.
