The pressure left all at once. I felt it in my hand immediately, that sharp, almost embarrassing relief as the tension gave way. The folder slipped from my grip just as Henry took it from me and set it on the counter in front of Judith, his fingers brushing mine for half a second longer than necessary—or maybe I just noticed it more.
“Come on,” Henry said, already turning.
I followed without thinking, the door swinging shut behind us with a final click that left this weird, empty drop in my chest.
The lobby opened around us, but it didn’t feel as big anymore now that he was moving through it.
He made space rearrange itself around him, and he made me want to rearrange with it.
Henry took the stairs two at a time. I kept pace until we were standing outside his office. The door was slightly ajar, lights already on. Over his shoulder, I spotted his jacket draped over the back of his chair and a mug resting at the corner of his desk.
It was a different mug than the one he’d had during our interview, and I wondered if he was one of those men who couldn’t be bothered to use a travel mug. He seemed the type—like the universe respected him enough that he could walk around with a full mug of coffee and no lid.
I bet he drinks it black.
Henry crossed the room without looking back, his sleeve shifting just enough to expose the line of his wrist, veins sharp under the skin before the fabric settled again.
I stayed just inside the doorway, shoulders tight, not realizing my breathing had gone shallow again until it was already too late to fix it without it looking obvious.
Henry’s eyes found me. “Breathe.”
I considered ignoring him, just to prove I could, but my lungs gave out first, dragging in air too fast before I could smooth it into something normal.
My shoulders eased.
“Good.”
My stomach dropped and flipped at the same time, fast enough to make me lightheaded for a second, which washorrifying, because it was one word and my body had no business reacting to it like that.
Rhys would destroy me for this.
Literally ruin my life.
Henry moved behind his desk and gestured to the space across from him. “Sit.”
I nearly tripped over myself to obey him.
The chair was the same one from the interview—worn leather and softened edges. I set my bag on the floor and lowered myself into it carefully, stopping just short of leaning back.
Henry watched me.
I kept my face still, even though I could feel myself slipping in small ways—too aware of my hands, my posture, and the way my breathing wasn’t lining up right.
“You rub your sleeve when you’re nervous or adjust your glasses. I noticed during your interview.”
My fingers twitched against my thigh.
Of course he’d taken inventory while I was busy trying not to combust in his doorway.
“I’d, uh, make a terrible poker player.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “You’re human, Archibald, and I don’t expect you to pretend otherwise. Your nervousness is rather… charming.”
Charming.
It wasn’t a word I should’ve been holding onto, but I found myself gripping it anyway.
Pathetic, actually. One compliment and I was ready to laminate it.