Page 67 of What Comes Around

All three nodded like they were doctors diagnosing a patient.

“That explains everything,” Priya said. “One bad sample does not count.”

Claire tilted her head. “Did you at least come?”

I made a noncommittal face and took a sip of my drink.

Nora groaned. “Oooofff. That had to be some high school guy. One pump and done. They never last long. Young and clueless.”

“Exactly,” Priya said. “You need to get out more. You cannot judge the whole experience on one dud.”

I focused very hard on not smiling.

“You need to get back on the saddle,” Claire added.

Nora perked up. “I know someone in Marketing. Tim. That guy would one hundred percent give you an orgasm.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen Tim. How do you know he’s one hundred percent guaranteed?”

She grinned. “Last year’s Christmas party. We got drunk, went home together. Three orgasms.”

I saw Knox’s shadow shift.

I made a face. “You have already been there. Is it not like girl code or something? I am not looking for a relationship.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Nora said. “We were never serious. And I’m telling you to ride the pony, not marry the pony.”

“See,” Claire said, “that is a public service recommendation.”

Knox's shadow pulled back from the wall, retreating the way it had come. His outline slid away from the corner and disappeared toward his office.

The others kept talking, oblivious.

“I am not dating coworkers,” I said.

“That is what you say now,” Nora replied. “We will fix you.”

The conversation drifted to work gossip and weekend plans. We finished eating and went back to our desks.

Ten minutes later, I saw Knox walking out of his office with Titan. He didn’t look at anyone.

He did not come back to the office for the rest of the day.

Chapter 22: Jealous

Less than two weeks later, the house was finally ready enough to live in.

I bought the car first, a black SUV, something solid and safe. Then I moved into the house.

The rooms still echoed when I walked through them. Some walls were bare. A few pieces of furniture were still missing, waiting for me to decide what kind of life I wanted to build inside them. But I could live there. That was enough.

I liked the idea of letting the place grow with me.

One thing, however, I did not wait to decide was buying a piano.

It had been years since I’d had one of my own. Too many temporary places, too many apartments where a piano felt impractical. But the quiet in the house made me realize how much I had missed playing.

The delivery men brought it in that afternoon, carefully guiding the polished black body through the wide doorway and setting it near the tall living room windows. When they left, I stood there for a moment, just looking at it.