Because You're Different ✔

79. Out [Part 1]

June

I felt naked. The huge windows of his office looked out on the park below, and although the people were too far away for me to be able to see their heads clearly, it was as if they were all staring up at me, abandoning their dogs and kids to entertain themselves with the sight of me. It was ridiculous, and yet, I couldn't shake it off.

I'd dropped books, pens, and even a picture frame — flushing red every time, but Albert pretended like he didn't notice, calmly continuing his tasks. Countless times had I been on the cusp of leaving, wanting to truthfully say I had a headache, and every time, something held me back. The question on the edge of my brain.

Was I going to ask?

There weren't many opportunities left now. His shelves were empty, the heavy reference works packed in boxes, all the files moved from the cabinets, not a paperclip to be found on the desk. We hadn't even needed an hour to clean out everything. Albert was such an organized, minimalist man that there really hadn't been that much to do, and combined with his distaste of talking, it made the job go unnaturally fast. If his colleagues hadn't stopped by every few minutes to comment on him leaving and to investigate the mystery of who I was, we could've been done even sooner.

Was I going to ask?

It all didn't make sense.

Albert closed the last box. Tomorrow was his retirement party. Nathan had told me that'd been more Will's idea than Albert's, and I definitely believed him. He didn't seem like the type to want to celebrate milestones, or even to care too much about them. There was no nostalgia in his movements at all, just a calm designation. With precise, steady fingers, he peeled off the final sticker and stuck it on the top. Books other M-Z, it said, in his beautiful, slanting, nearly unreadable handwriting.

But he could make sense of it.

Maybe he could make sense of Nathan too.

"Albert," I said, and I almost jumped at the sound of my own voice after all that quiet, "why did you ask Nathan if I wanted to help you?"

There was a deep, deep sigh, like it had to travel all the way to his feet. Then he looked up. "I didn't."

"You didn't?"

That made even less sense. The twisted mess in my mind tangled even further, like tying of shoelaces gone wrong, and I rubbed at my temple, hoping to stop the thunder rumbling there.

"Then why did he say you did?"

For a second, he didn't answer, and I thought he hadn't heard me at all. Until he looked up. "Nathan is a plonker. That's all I can say. Thank you for helping."

What kind of answer was that? I wanted to turn away, but: "Will you come to the party tomorrow?"

I was so stunned he asked all I could say was "yes".

I'd been standing in the lobby for far too long, options spinning around me. What was I going to do? Either I could go back to the house, let things happen, and pretend that I never almost kissed him again, that he never lied about Albert, or I could march into his office and demand a full explanation. The truth. No matter how terrifying that was.

"Miss Guevara!"

The booming call was so unexpected that I shrunk instantly, my hands clenching into fists. My head pounded extra heavily, and if this hadn't been a respectable law firm, I would've unleashed a waterfall of curses.

When I turned around, he was smirking at my reaction, hiding it behind his hands in a weak attempt at faking humbleness. Anders Marsden, if I recalled his name correctly. He'd been one of the colleagues who'd introduced himself to me today, one who almost literally had to be shoved from the office, like a fly that'd found the perfect warm spot to sit in. "Guilty conscience?" he asked, still with that maddening smirk on his face. "Need a lawyer? I can give you a discount."