Page 26 of Love Decoded

I grin. “Although, that’s not to say the thought of you with a cat sitting on your shoulders isn’t adorable.”

Her cheeks warm the tiniest bit. Fuck, I want to flirt with her. I want to tease her, to get her teasing back. I want to tell her I’m fascinated by her and that it makes her gorgeous and intoxicating all at the same time.

But then her eyes dart to the still-closed elevator doors, and my sole purpose becomes putting her at ease.

“I’ve only ever had dogs,” I blurt out, trying to pull her attention back to me. “Does that surprise you?”

Her eyes squeeze closed, her chest puffing with rapid breaths as she tries to calm herself down. After a moment, she chokes out, “It surprises me that a lawyer ever had the heart to take care of a living being.”

My eyes widen, and I choke out a shocked laugh. “What an awful stereotype.”

She gives me a tight smile, her face still pale. “Am I wrong? Have you ever had a pet that wasn’t a family pet?”

I let out a huff of displeasure. “That’s not fair. That’s only because I have no time, not because I have no heart.”

“Remind me to buy you a Chia pet for your birthday to test my theory.”

I shake my head, my smile genuine this time. But when Charli’s eyes squeeze closed again, her hands turning to fists by her side, I start to get genuinely worried.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping forward to brush her arms. “They’re almost here. We’ll be out in no time.” When that doesn’t elicit a response, I try again. “Can you tell me what the problem is? Maybe I can help.”

Her breaths only come faster after that.

“I don’t know,” she whines. “It’s like— It’s like I can’t breathe. Like there’s not enough air in here. Or space.”

I brush my hands down to her hands, rubbing circles into her palm with my thumb to try to focus her attention. “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Her nod is jerky. “Never in an elevator, though. It’s not normally from small spaces.”

Just as I start to wonder if it’s the lack of escape options, her eyes snap open and dart to the doors.

The doors that won’t open.

Instantly, she starts to hyperventilate.

“Charli. Charli, I need you to look at me.” My voice is stern, even though internally I’m begging her to focus on me. “Take a deep breath for me. Come on. Give me one deep breath.”

She tries, bless her heart. Her eyes dart to mine, then away, then back again. She tries for a shaky breath, but it’s a sad, weak one.

“Come on, Charli,” I murmur, hoping a softer voice might work better. My thumbs start on her palms again. “Breathe with me. Deep breath in”—I demonstrate with a breath of my own—“and then let it out.”

For a moment, I think it’s about to work. Her gaze holds mine, and she sucks in a big, shaky breath. I give her an encouraging smile and mime for her to hold it.

And then it all goes to shit.

She exhales on a sob and curls forward into her stomach. “I can’t,” she gasps. “I need— I need… Oh God, I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe. I can’t⁠—”

“Charli—”

“No, no, no, I can’t— I need— I can’t⁠—”

She’s spiraling so hard that I stop thinking and just do.

Cupping her face in my hands, I press my lips to hers.

She freezes. Time stops. The air stops.

And then I realize what the fuck I just did and pull back, Charli’s eyes as wide as mine probably are.