“Yours. And you love-” she held up a hand, “-debating, I mean, not Gabriel himself. Unless…?”
I shot her a glare.
“Oh my god. You so do.” She went high octave. “You so do. This is a hate-crush. No wonder you’re spiraling. I can’t believe I missed it. What happened?”
“Nothing.” My voice was too sharp.
Margot grinned, not fooled for a second. “Did you hook up?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
I choked on air. “Margot.”
She cackled. “That’s a yes.”
I changed the subject with surgical skill. “He was with my brother this morning. In the office. They were talking about me like I wasn’t there.”
Margot’s humor flickered out. “Was it bad?”
“Not… exactly. Just weird. Like they were on a wavelength I wasn’t invited to.”
She chewed on this. “You don’t like being the odd woman out.”
“No one does.”
“You least of all.” She pointed at me through the screen. “I know that look. You’re about to either start a conspiracy board or go totally silent.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
She grinned. “So, silent.”
I wanted to be annoyed, but she was right.
Margot softened. “You know you can ask for help, right? Not just from me. From, like, other humans. Sometimes you’re allowed.”
I pretended to be distracted by my phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She let me get away with it, this time. “If you need an alibi, I have a friend who owes me a solid and can get you out of pretty much anything. Just say the word.”
With a laugh, I spoke, “Where do you meet your friends?”
We talked for another twenty minutes. Margot tried to get me to commit to drinks this weekend, or at least a phone call from the road. She signed off with her usual, “Don’t burn anything down unless it’s absolutely necessary. And if it is, film it.”
When the screen went dark, my apartment felt a hundred times more empty.
I opened my laptop again, stared at the audit log. The lines blurred. I wanted to reach out to Gabriel, demand an explanation, but I knew how that would look. Like I was rattled. Like I’d lost. Or like I wanted to talk to him, because there was no reason to bother him about it.
So I sat in the dark. I lay on the couch, eyes burning, trying to game out the next week. London. Gabriel. Days of forced proximity, meetings, and only a door between us while we slept.
I pictured us on the plane, shoulder to shoulder in business class, pretending the armrest was a wall instead of an invitation. I imagined the hotel: neutral ground, nowhere to hide. I could see his hands on the keyboard during the presentation, hear the faint click of his watch, feel every millimeter of his attention like a burn.
I hated that the anticipation wasn’t just dread.
It was excitement.
Desire.