Page 5 of The Fall Affair

I freaking quit my job!

I’d left the firm where I’d worked my ass off for the last six years. I’d lost or given up everything for it—friendships, boyfriends, sleep. I didn’t even talk to my aunt I used to live with as much as I should.

I dropped my head into my hands, feeling tears threaten.

Oh God. What the hell did I do?

***

The intercom buzzed at four o’clock on Saturday afternoon, and it took all the energy I had to get myself off the couch and press the button to see what the doorman wanted. Even my cat, who’d followed me, looked like she was dragging.

“Ms. Bianchi, you have a visitor.”

There wasn’t anyone I wanted to see. “Who is it?”

“Cassie Norman.”

I took a deep breath and let it out before answering. “You can let her up. Thanks, Ray.”

“Will do.”

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at my apartment door. I opened it, Cassie took one look at me, and her face fell. “Oh, honey.” She engulfed me in a hug, and tears again threatened. Somehow, I managed to sniffle them back and tell her to come inside, rather than making a scene in the hallway for my neighbors.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” Cassie followed me into the living room. “You didn’t answer my texts, and my calls went right to voicemail. I got worried.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I should’ve let you know I was all right. But when I finally got the courage to look at my cell this morning, it was dead. It didn’t make it to the charger last night, and I thought maybe that was for the best. I haven’t looked yet. I still don’t feel that well.”

She took a seat on the chair across from the couch, and I wrapped myself back into the blanket I’d been hibernating under since I got up for water this morning.

“I’m not sure if I remember everything from last night,” I said. “But I remember following Harry into the men’s room.”

Cassie nodded. “I’d been trying to get you to leave the bar. We went to the ladies’ room together, and you must’ve snuck out while I was in the stall next to you. I didn’t even realize you were gone until a few minutes after I finished washing my hands.”

“Quitting is the last thing I remember.”

“You don’t remember confronting Sierra on the street when we were getting into the Uber?”

My eyes widened. “No! What happened?”

“You called her out about how she earned her partnership offer. Then you told her the shiny tights she had on with her dress and shoes made her look as cheap as she is.”

That was the first thing that made me half smile today. “They did look tacky.”

“After that, I shoved you into the Uber and had him wait outside your building while I made sure you got upstairs.”

I shook my head. “God, I’m not sure what feels more awful, the fact that there are things about last night I can’t remember, or that I can remember some of it. I’ve never blacked out before. It’s scary.”

“You were upset, didn’t eat, and everyone wanted to buy you a drink. Apparently, the only people who weren’t shocked that you didn’t make partner were the partners who did the voting. Seriously, everyone was coming up to you saying they couldn’t believe it.”

I’d thought a lot about that today. Last night, when my name hadn’t been called, I’d started to wonder if maybe I wasn’t as good at my job as I thought, even though my trial record was 39–1. My peers coming up to me had really helped.

I took a deep breath and blew out two cheeks full of air. “I’m going to have to start over—prove myself at a brand-new firm and start at the bottom of the partnership track. It’s like I’ve wasted six years.”

Cassie shook her head. “No, you haven’t. You’ve gained experience. And once firms hear you’ve left Kasoff, Faust & Moore, your phone is going to be ringing off the hook. But I think you should take a break, Allegra. It’s not healthy to work as much as you do. Take a few months to recharge. It’ll all be waiting for you when you get back.”

Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn’t have even considered taking a break, or that I might need a mental-health time-out. The idea wasn’t all that unappealing now, though.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”