Page 95 of His Good Girl

“It was thorough.”

She made a strangled sound. “Thorough?”

“Very.”

“Like dental cleaning thorough or ruin-your-life thorough?”

“Jules.”

“Scale, please.”

“Ruin-your-life thorough.”

She stood up and walked three circles around my coffee table. I just stared at her.

“I am overwhelmed.” She stopped and pointed at me. “Did he use tongue?”

I covered my face. “Yes.”

Jules made a noise so high-pitched my neighbor’s dog must have heard it through the wall.

“He pulled me in by my hair,” I squeaked into my hands.

Jules sat down very slowly, as if her bones had left the building. “Say that again for the women in the back.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

“He pulled me in by my hair, kissed me until I forgot my own zip code, then gave me an employee ethics speech.”

Jules closed her eyes. “That is so on-brand it’s medically concerning.”

“He said if I don’t come back tomorrow, he’ll pretend it never happened and give me a year’s severance.”

Her eyes opened sharply. “A year?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.”

“That is either extremely responsible or billionaire insane.”

“Both, probably.”

“And if you come back and want the job but not the kissing?”

“He said that was fine too.”

“And if you want more?”

I could not look at her.

Jules set her glass down. “Avery.”

I stared at the rug, at the threadbare little pattern where the path between the coffee table and the couch had rubbed flat.