The Science of Growing Apart

39- Pasta

I spent the next couple of days running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Kim gave me a murder case, a stabbing in the bathroom of a country club. Somewhat high profile, a lot of interviewing and reading through police reports and research. The article I spit out needed to be perfect. My boss was finally trusting me with larger cases and if I didn't prove myself to be a valuable writer, I'd be relegated back to petty theft and hit and runs for the rest of my career.

Dealing with the Shiloh situation on top of that was making my brain overheat. She decided to send a lawyer to meet with Jay in an attempt to keep her identity hidden and to see what kind of offer he was willing to make. I played middle man between the lawyers, Jay, and Shiloh. Not to mention keeping Eleanor and Casey up to date on the situation as well.

And Casey... I hadn't seen him in person since our night in the tree house. Even though we texted every day and squeezed in a phone call every night (even though I fell asleep during most of them), I didn't like going five days without seeing him. It was making me even more irritable than I normally would have been with all of the work stress.

On Friday, I got the article on Kim's desk and managed to schedule the meeting between Jay and the lawyers to talk financial compensation.

"This is the country club piece?" Kim asked from her desk, eyeing the document that I'd just emailed to her. "It's not due until Monday."

"I know. I finished early," I said without explaining to her that I desperately wanted my weekend to be free of stressing about the Monday deadline.

Her narrow gaze swept quickly down the document. I had no idea how she skimmed through that quickly, but after thirty seconds of scrolling, she leaned back in her seat. I pinched my lips together, holding my breath as I waited for a verdict. "Looks good."

My entire body relaxed through a short sigh. I was happy with how the article turned out, but I was so frazzled by everything going on, I didn't fully trust my own judgment.

"I want you to write up an update to the Tanzing case," she added after a beat.

"Didn't Boris just publish the Tanzing article last week?"

Kim nodded, tapping her beautifully manicured nails against the wood of her desk. "Yes, he did, but I think there's more research to be done there. You're the best researcher on the team so if there is something more, I know you'll find it."

A compliment like that coming from my boss, even in her tight monotone voice, felt like an incredible gift. My chest welled with pride so heavily that I almost forgot that I had to respond to Kim. "I'll see what I can find."

Another nod, this one dismissing me from her office as she started typing away at her computer.

Boris, who must have already been notified about the Tanzing article, glared at me as I passed his desk. I offered him a smile in return, trying really hard not to make it look as braggy as I felt. I'd known for a long time that Boris had gotten lazy with his research skills. He was the senior writer for Kripke's crime section and it was giving him a complex of feeling like he didn't have to work as hard. I was ecstatic that Kim was finally seeing it too.

I was nearly bouncing with excitement at the end of the day when I got to drive immediately to Casey's apartment. Without an immediate deadline to worry about and with Shiloh's meeting scheduled, I had nothing else to focus on other than Casey and his lips and hearing his laugh against my ear. I was going to curl into him like an armadillo and recall the way Boris threw a whole tantrum in the break room because of the Tanzing article. It was demoralizing, he said, as if his article had been completely through when he didn't even read through the public witness statements or talk to the chief of police, who put out a statement about the incident.