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My hand stills on the stapler I was tucking into the desk drawer. I try to keep my voice even, “Liv’s coming over?”
“I think so. Unless something comes up at the lab. I swear, that poor girl works too hard. She really should get overtime with how late her manager makes her stay most nights.” Mom continues to ramble about Olivia’s work. I take the opportunity to try and steady my rapid pulse.
I haven’t spoken to Olivia since Avery’s wedding.
I knew I’d run into my childhood best friend when I returned home, especially since our parents are best friends and they treat us like we’re cousins. There’s no avoiding her. Not that I try to avoid her. It’s just… things are sure to be awkward. They always are these days.
And I haven’t figured out how to address what happened between us…
“Anyway, I’ll be sending your dad to pick you up from the airport,” Mom says, pulling me out of my thoughts before I can spiral down the gutter of regret that is my relationship with Olivia. “As long as your flight is on time, you should be here in time to join us for dinner and catch up with everyone.”
The image of Olivia lying with her hair spread over the pillowcase in my hotel room flashes in my mind, reigniting the pain and regret that I’ve been carrying for nearly two years.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Mom. I can’t wait.”
CHAPTER 3
Olivia
“We needthose results for Sampson and Sons as soon as possible,” my boss, the lab director, tells me through the earpiece of the landline in my office. “Their client’s court date moved up a month, and they want plenty of time to review the results before formulating their defense strategy.”
“Of course.” I thumb through the stack of files on my desk and find the submission he’s talking about. I scan the request and mentally calculate how long it will take our lab techs to run all the tests required. “I can have this to them by the end of business on Monday.”
“Next week? Why not tonight?”
I choose my next words carefully, “Because it’s Friday night and all the techs have gone home for the weekend.” And Hank and I both know our lab is not open on the weekends. Though, he may have forgotten considering he decides to work from home more often than come in. And by work from home, I mean he checks his emails once per day and then goes radio silent the rest of the eight-hour workday.
Since my promotion to lab manager a year ago, Hank has passed most of his lab director duties on to me. The extra work didn’t bother me at first. I felt valued, and I enjoyed doing my part to help the lab run smoothly. I’ve been working at Harrowgates Laboratory since I was an undergrad. I started as an intern for the lead scientist before graduating with my degree. Then, I started my first real job as a lab technician. Now, as the lab’s manager, my job consists of more paperwork than lab work. And I’m not going to lie, I miss using my lab skills. More than I thought I would. And never more than when Hank tries to shove more of his workload onto me.
“But you’re still there.” The call goes quiet. I imagine Hank is holding his breath.
I inhale through my nostrils, tempering my frustration before I reply, “It’s six o’clock, Hank. I’m off the clock.”
“But I told the clients we’d have the results to them immediately.”
“I can’t run the tests alone, Hank.” Part of our lab’s protocol includes two scientists or lab technicians signing off on lab tests and results, especially for those involved in litigation or criminal cases. “And even if I could, are you really asking me to spend the next five hours here, alone, on a Friday night?”
His hesitation tells me that’s exactly what he’s asking.
It’s delayed, but common decency finally comes over him. “No. You’re right. Monday is fine.”
“Good. I’ll make sure the lab knows it’s a priority.”
Hank says goodbye shortly after, and I resume my last tasks for the evening before I can lock up and head home.
I’m signing off on a level two technician’s overtime when my phone buzzes with an incoming text. I look at the screen and see a message from my mom.
Did you forget about dinner at the Lawson’s tonight?
Shit.
I shove the paperwork into a folder, then grab my purse from my desk’s bottom drawer. I sling it over my shoulder as I rush out of the office and type back.
Of course not. I got caught up at the lab, but I’m on my way now.
With any luck, most of the after-work traffic will have died down by now and I’ll be able to make it there in twenty minutes, tops.
I enable the lab’s security system before exiting the building as my phone buzzes with my mom’s response. I lock the outer door, then turn around with my head tilted down to read the message.
