Page 125 of Sin

Sin’s eyes drop to the paper in my hand. “Did you need something?”

Yes. You. Or a lobotomy.

Maybe soup.

“No,” I say too quickly. “It can wait.”

His gaze sharpens. “Are you sure?”

No, I’m not sure of anything. I’m not sure why seeing Jenna in his office feels like being slapped. I’m not sure why I want to cry. And I’m not sure why my skin is burning hotter now.

“I’m sure.” I force a smile. “Excuse me.”

I leave before either of them can stop me.

By the time I reach my office, jealousy is already eating me alive. The kind I have no right to feel.

She’s his wife. She’s allowed to be in his office. I’m the one who doesn’t belong.

My office tilts slightly when I step inside and I grab the edge of my desk.

“Oh, that’s fun,” I mutter.

My body answers by sending a wave of chills down my spine so violent my teeth nearly chatter. Definitely the flu, then. Or karmic punishment. Honestly, it could be both.

I sit down and try to answer an email but the words blur. I try to drink water. It tastes like pennies. I try to stand again. Bad plan.

The next thing I know, Opal is in my doorway.

“Boss? You okay? I heard something.”

I gesture to where I knocked over my purse. “Stay back. I think I have the flu.”

She marches right in, presses the back of her hand to my forehead, and immediately recoils.

“You have a fever.”

“I figured.” I say as I reach for my bag.

The Sex Activity Pro email sits on my desk, folded once, forgotten under my notebook. Or maybe I leave it there on purpose. I don’t know. My brain has become soup.

I don’t remember her calling a cab for me, but the next thing I know I’m at my apartment. I make it inside, kick off one shoe, then the other, and collapse on the couch without taking off my coat.

I wake up to knocking.

At first, I think it’s in my dream. Then it comes again.

I groan into the cushion. “Go away.”

“Laurel.”

My eyes open. Sin?

I drag myself off the couch and shuffle to the door, wrapped in my coat, one sock on, hair probably looking like woodland creatures nested in it during the commute.

I open the door.

Sin stands in the hallway holding a pharmacy bag, a paper bag from the deli down the street, and the expression of a man who is deeply unhappy with the state of the universe.