Charlotte locked herself in her office for the afternoon, her mind spinning. Outside, she sensed that the usual schedule continued without her. She watched interns scan documents and play on their phones; she watched Lyle come back into the building and waddle into his personal office, clutching a bag of fast food. She’d told him countless times to cut back on the sodium and saturated fat, but his continuous stress led him to drive-thru lunches, eaten on the hoof, and she understood his motives in that moment—carbs equaled comfort.

Her attention outside of her room didn’t last long. Today, Charlotte was hiding, diving into her massive workload and feeling her eyes dry out as she stared at the screen. She didn’t dare peek into the Sean Lawson file labelled “priority” in her email, even knowing that the casework she’d been given was important and wasn’t to be ignored. Her mind was a million miles away.

Of course, she knew she’d have to tell Lyle about what had occurred with Sean at some point.

Throughout the afternoon, people came to her door, knocking and waiting for her to unlock it, peering through the one small gap in her blinds.

Each time, Charlotte swept her phone to her ear, pretending to be on an important call, while mouthing “sorry” and shrugging apologetically. And each time, the intern, or whoever yearned to inquire about her meeting, nodded in understanding and mouthed that they’d come back later.

She couldn’t keep this up forever, she knew. But it would work until she cultivated some kind of plan of attack.

Around three-thirty, Charlotte was typing notes for one of her other cases, nibbling on the leftovers of her bagel. She turned her eyes to her office window and noted that Lyle was coming toward her, his walk determined. She lurched, shoving her phone to her ear in yet another fake phone call.

As Lyle reached her door, he peeked in through the gap in the blinds and gave her a steady, even wave.

“On the phone?” he mouthed.

She nodded, her eyes wide. “Sorry,” she mouthed. She felt moments away from vomiting.

As Lyle began to turn away from her, she leaned back in her chair, aching for the end of the day. Maybe she could leave, say she was sick. Maybe she could pull the food poisoning card, à la Katrina.

But as she leaned back, the phone actually began to ring, blaring in her ear. She jumped, and almost dropped it, nervous. Perhaps this was Lyle, catching her mid-lie. She took a sharp, fast inhale, pushed her shoulders back, and answered the call, her voice shaky. She couldn’t handle this lack of confidence.

“Hello. This is Charlotte Waters.”

“Charlotte. Hi. It’s Sean.”

Charlotte’s face snapped toward the window, where she caught a glimpse of Sean’s building, several blocks away. The afternoon sun was glinting upon it, emitting a warm orange across the glass panels.

“Sean—Sean Lawson?” she said. She felt she was imagining this. Perhaps this was a prank phone call, set up by Katrina.

“Yes. Sean Lawson, the salesman. Were you still interested in purchasing one of those prime-time television packages for your apartment? You have three days remaining with this sale. And let me tell you, an offer like this won’t come around for another fifty years.”

Charlotte paused, allowing the words to fall over her ears. And then, the man on the other line started to chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You sounded so surprised to hear my name. I couldn’t help myself.”

Charlotte’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets, bug-like. She tilted her head, her heart beating quickly at the sound of his voice. “You’re calling me? Why?” she asked. She didn’t respond to his joke; she felt too emotional, too shaken up. Sean didn’t sound angry; he didn’t sound as if he’d called to fire her. Rather—he sounded like a companion. Like a friend.

“Charlotte, I understand you were under a great deal of strain today. But you did what anyone of your caliber would have done—you tried to work with what you had. And I’m afraid I didn’t respond well to that; I get ‘hangry’ a little too easily. I jumped all over you for not being fully prepared—despite the circumstances, which were out of your control. And I wanted to apologize.”

“That’s quite all right,” Charlotte said, her voice just above a whisper. “Truly, it was unprofessional of me. I should have been upfront with you immediately. It won’t happen again.”

That’s right, she thought. Because you’re not his attorney. Katrina is.

“After all,” Charlotte went on, “Katrina will be well in a few days, and she’s far more prepared for your case. No further time will be wasted. I can guarantee that.” She spoke with certainty, attempting to take on her lawyer mentality. Inwardly, she was panicking. She’d assumed she wouldn’t hear his voice again in her life. And he’d actively searched out her number.

“I actually called about that, Charlotte,” he said then. “I wondered if you’d like to take on my case, yourself. Without Katrina.”

Charlotte stood up from her seat, lightning fast, onto quaking legs. She paused for long enough to cause Sean to laugh once more, a guttural, friendly laugh that made her smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go quiet like that,” Charlotte said, blushing. “I was just shocked. I mean. This morning—I was horrible. I had nothing to offer you.”

“I looked you up,” Sean said. “For obvious reasons. And I saw you graduated from Yale Law. You know that’s my alma mater, don’t you?”

She pondered this, wondering if he’d recognized the cufflink. It had been a strange gift, indeed. One cufflink, out of a set of two. Yet, why was he calling her, if he thought she was that kind of loon?”

“Sure,” she said, pacing around her office. “I loved Yale. It was home.”

“I felt the same way,” he said, his voice going soft. “I also saw you graduated fifth in your class. Quite a feat, considering you specialized in tech law. Only the biggest nerds do that, don’t they?”

Charlotte grinned. “Biggest nerds? You’re one to talk, Mr. Lawson,” she said. She felt herself growing flirtatious, but she couldn’t allow these feelings to escalate through her—she needed to keep a clear head.

“Good point,” Sean affirmed. “But. I learned you’ve been clambering up the ranks at your firm, until you were passed over for promotion by none other than the owner’s daughter, and the very woman who was meant to represent me. Now, is that just a coincidence, I wonder?”

“Of course not,” Charlotte laughed. Her heart flipped.

“I’ve seen this kind of thing countless times over the years. The management believes they need to promote the daughter, the son, or whatever of the owner of the company. And people with real talent, that have put in real hard work, suffer because of it. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t think I want to say anything,” Charlotte said, giggling. “I could get fired.”

“Well. Anyway. What do you think about my proposal, hmm?” He was obviously smiling on the other end of the line; she could feel it in his voice. “Won’t you represent me? Won’t you take this shot to propel your career to the top? Just imagine it.”

Charlotte centered her eyes on the horizon, far out over the water. The Seattle fog had begun to rise up, swallowing the buildings. Her brain was buzzing, her heart was about to burst from her chest.

“Well. I suppose I have to accept,” she said joyously. She felt like leaping into the air. She felt like screaming. But she stayed steady on her heels, gazing out to sea, like a sailor ready for the storm. She knew that somewhere, Katrina was lying in wait, certain to pounce on this news when she heard it.

But in that moment, she couldn’t care less. She felt jubilant. She felt immune to Katrina’s wrath. She was a rising star.

“That’s great,” Sean exclaimed. “Really great. I can’t wait to get started.”

“Me neither. You said the premium package on the television subscription, correct?” she said, falling into the joke.

“Absolutely, Miss Waters. We’ll have that package for you shortly, so you can get started on season three of Keeping up with the Kardashians.”

Charlotte laughed, her stomach clenching. Already, they were playing with each other. “All right. Really, though. Let’s arrange a proper meeting, so we can go through these documents. How does tomorrow sound to you? I can rearrange my schedule to make anything work.”

“Amazing, Charlotte. Thank you so much. Let’s say tomorrow, around lunchtime. Half-past noon? I can have something ready for us, so I don’t become the hangry monster you saw earlier today.”

“Sounds wonderful, Mr. Lawson,” she said, jotting the time on her notepad, as if she’d ever forget it. “I’ll see you then. I just hope your secretary doesn’t actually kill me with that death glare.”

“She’s a tough one, that Denise,” he said, laughing. “All right. I’ll see you then. And call me Sean, okay?”

The line went dead, leaving Charlotte in stunned silence, zoning out to the buzzing noise coming from the phone for a second before hanging up the receiver and walking over to her window.

She placed her fingertips against the pane, gazing down to the streets below. Cars zoomed past; people dipped between them, rushing headlong through traffic. It was a frenzied mess, while also a well-coordinated dance. It mirrored the movement in her brain, as the various pieces of her life seemed to come together.

She was going to be the sole attorney for Sean Lawson. She was going to spend alone time with him, constantly. And, best of all, her memory of him wasn’t wrong. He really was a hilarious, upbeat person, with an appreciation for the hard work she’d done at Yale. She grinned, feeling like she couldn’t have imagined this working out any better.

She turned her eyes toward the sad, half-eaten bagel on her desk, and swept it into the trash can, shaking her head. She had no reason to empathize with Lyle’s stress eating now. Rather, she needed a long night, bent over her paperwork, creating a tough, hard-hitting strategy.

Opening her office door, she was immediately sucked into the sea of interns and other attorneys. She flung her laptop bag over her shoulder and glided out of the building into the late afternoon air. She had a job to do. And she would do it from her balcony in Capitol Hill, diligently reading every single line of his report, with a cold mimosa in her hand.

As she left the office, she texted Chelsea the good news.

“Emergency bagel wasn’t needed after all! Will tell you everything tomorrow.”

Chelsea’s reply was instantaneous. “Told you so.”