ログイン(Lorei's POV)
Sunlight is stabbing straight into my eyeballs and my head feels like it's been hit with a bat.
Oh my god. Ow. Ow, ow, ow.
I squint one eye open. White sheets. A ceiling that is definitely not my ceiling. A room the size of my entire apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows and furniture that looks like it costs more than my yearly rent.
Wait. What?!!
I sit straight up, and the room tilts sideways for a second before it settles. I'm not wearing my dress. I'm not wearing anything. The sheet's the only thing between me and whoever's….
I look to my left, it's empty. The other side of the bed is cold, like whoever was there left a while ago.
Okay. Okay okay okay. Think, Lorei. Think.
I try to remember, but nothing solid comes up, just flashes. Pink drinks, loud music, Priya's laugh…. and then nothing. My head’s totally blank. It's as if someone reached in and scooped a whole chunk of my brain out with a spoon.
Did I… oh my god, did I sleep with someone? Who? WHO?!!
I look around and I see a note on the pillow next to me.
“Had to leave. Lock the door on your way out.”
No name. Great. Fantastic. Exactly what I needed today.
I scramble out of bed, and my whole body immediately regrets it. My head’s pounding, stomach grumbling hard. Fuck. I find my dress crumpled by the door, one shoe under the couch. The other one’s nowhere to be found. I don't even care. I just need to get out of here before whoever this is comes back and I have to have a conversation with a stranger while my brain is still trying to reboot.
Phone. Where is my phone. Where is my…. there.
It's dead on the nightstand, and I don't have a charger, fuck. I don't have time to look for one. I shove it in my bag and half-run out of the suite in one shoe, praying nobody's in the hallway to see me looking like this.
The elevator ride down feels like it takes a year. I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall and flinch, because what the hell?!!! My mascara is smeared, my hair’s everywhere, and there's a mark on my neck I definitely didn't have yesterday.
The fuck happened last night?
I get a cab outside, plug my phone into the little charging cord hanging off the console, and the second it come back to life, it starts buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing.
Eleven missed calls from Priya. Six texts, each one more panicked than the last.
where ARE you
lorei answer your phone
im actually about to call the police im not kidding
IF YOU ARE DEAD I WILL KILL YOU
Oh no. Oh no, she's going to murder me.
I call her the second we hit a red light. She picks up before the first ring even finishes.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Her voice comes through so loud the driver actually glances at me in the mirror. "I leave you for like two minutes at the bar and then you just… you vanished, Lorei, I called you like a hundred times, I almost called your mom…."
"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm in a cab right now…"
"Where did you SLEEP?"
"I don't know." My voice cracks a little, and saying it out loud makes it worse somehow. "Priya, I don't remember anything. Like, at all. I remember the drinks, and then it's just… blank. I woke up in some hotel room and there was nobody there and I don't even know his name."
There's a beat of silence on the other end.
"Okay," she says, quieter now, "okay, that's… are you hurt? Do you need to go to a hospital, do you need…."
"No, I'm fine, I think, I just…." I press my fingers into my temple, trying to physically push the headache out through my skull. "I feel disgusting. And I have zero memory of the last however-many hours, and I have no idea who I
…"
My phone buzzes against my ear. Call waiting. Mom.
Fuck!
"Priya, hold on, it's my mom, let me just…"
"Wait, don't hang…."
I switch over before she finishes. "Mom, hey, I'm sorry I didn't call back last night, I was…"
"Lorei."
That one word stops me cold. My mom's voice doesn't sound like my mom's voice. It sounds wrecked, like she's been crying.
Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong.
"Mom? Mom, what happened, what's going on…"
"It's your father."
“Oh… okay… what’s up with him?”
"There was an accident. Last night. On the coast road, near the marina…"
"Okay, is he…. is he in the hospital, is he going to be okay…."
"Lorei." She says and her voice just… breaks. "He's gone. He didn't make it."
The world tips sideways, worse than the room did when I first woke up. I don't even register that I've dropped my phone until I hear it hit the floor of the cab, my mom's broken voice still coming through the speaker.
"Ma'am?" The driver's looking at me in the mirror, alarmed. "You okay back there?"
I can't answer him. I can't even do anything except sit there. My… my dad’s gone. Just like that.
I fumble the phone back up off the floor. "Mom. Mom, I'm coming, I'm coming right now, don't… just stay where you are, okay? I'm coming."
"They said it was the brakes," she says, voice shredded, barely holding together. "That he lost control on the coast road. But Lorei… his car was found parked. Not crashed. It was parked neatly at the marina lot, driver's door locked, and they found him on the rocks below the seawall." A ragged breath. "The police keep saying it's an accident. I don't understand how a man loses control of a car that was never moving."
I don't say anything because I can't think of anything. It's like my brain has gone dry. Nothing’s coming to my mind.
"I have to go," she says. "I have to go, there are people here, I…"
"I'm coming," I tell her again, and the line goes dead before I even finish saying it.
I sit there in the back of the cab, one shoe on, mascara down my face, a stranger's mark on my neck, a blank space where half of last night should be. And underneath all of it, my mother's voice keeps looping in my head; “It was parked neatly at the marina lot, driver's door locked, and they found him on the rocks below the seawall."
That's definitely not sounding anything like an accident, or am I going crazy? I don't even know what any of it means yet. I just know I can't stop hearing it.
(Lorei’s POV)Bree is standing in my doorway with her tablet pressed to her chest and the face of someone trying to swallow a whole sentence.“Mr. Walker’s assistant called. He wants to know if you’ve eaten. He said to tell your...” Her eyes go wide. “Your bro... your... boy...”“Mr. Walker?”“Mr. Walker! Yes! Your Mr. Walker.” She’s red to the ears. “He said you’d say yes, and to ask what.”I look at my desk. There’s half a protein bar sitting on a napkin. “Tell him a salad.”“Was it a salad?”“Bree.”“Sorry! Going!”She bolts. I put my forehead on the desk and breathe into the wood. Elias and I have gotten unreasonably close. It’s so obvious that it’s no longer a rumor at the office. The staff are almost saying it to my face now. Imagine Bree, almost calling him my boyfriend. Fucking hell.But I can’t blame them, really. He kisses my forehead at 7:10 every morning like it’s an item on a list, we eat lunch together, he’s insisted on driving me to work every morning, and he won’t stop
(Lorei’s POV)“Wait, back up. Teo gave her a ring pop?”“A blue one.” Marisol is perched on the end of my bed with her shoes off and her feet tucked under her, holding a mug she’s stopped drinking from. “He took it out of his pocket in the kitchen, in front of the whole staff, and got down on one knee.”“Oh my god.”“Anita screamed. She dropped a tray of croissants.”“Is that a yes?”“She said ‘it’s not even a real ring,’ and he said ‘it’s a real promise,’ and she cried, and now he’s wearing the wrapper on a chain around his neck.” Marisol lowers her voice. “Briggs saw it, he pretended he didn’t. But his ears were red. I could see he was fuming.”I’m laughing so hard I have to hold the pillow over my stomach. It’s day three of Elias insisting I need to rest after the Fisher saga, and I’ve been in this bed so long I can name every crack in the ceiling. I’ve had soup, toast, crackers, three kinds of tea, and a hot water bottle someone put in my hands without a word. Everything is soft a
(Lorei’s POV)The four minutes are starting to seem like one hour, so I call him again. He picks, but I don’t hear anything from his end.“Elias? Elias, are you there?” Nothing. The screen says Call Ended, and the car is so quiet I can hear my own pulse in my ears. I hit his name again. It rings once and goes to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. He’s in a tunnel. He’s fine. He said four minutes.I look at the clock on the dash. 2:41.The air inside the car begins to feel thick, like somebody’s pressing a pillow on my face. I wind down the window and the smell of Marlow’s rolls in, bacon grease and burnt coffee, and my stomach turns over so hard I clap a hand over my mouth.Oh no. No, no, no. Not here.I get the door open and half fall out, and I stand with my back flat against the cold metal, the keys digging into my palm, breathing through my nose. The diner window is thirty feet away. I can see the back of a blue shirt in the last booth, shoulders bent, not moving. I look away fast.Don’
(Lorei’s POV)“Okay, but you can’t just say ‘pickle’ like it’s a personality,” Elias says, eyes on the road. “There are different types.”“There’s only one type, and it’s the type that goes on a sandwich.”“That’s three types. Dill, bread-and-butter, and the sweet gherkin.”“How do you know that?”“I read the jar.” His mouth twitches. “Marisol bought four after you said ‘the pickle.’ I wanted to know which one I was dealing with.”I laugh so hard I have to put my forehead on the cold window. It’s been two days since the roof, and we’ve been careful in a stiff, polite way, like two people carrying a full pot of soup across a room. He drives me to work. I tell him a pun. He pretends not to laugh. Last night he said “I’m doing it” out loud, standing in my doorway, about a conversation with Briggs, and I said “Thank you for telling me,” and we both stood there like it was the weirdest thing either of us had ever done. It’s working. It’s slow and awkward and it’s working. Even though we st
(Fisher’s POV)It’s 11:20 in the morning and the bottle on my desk is already a third gone.Don’t look at the bottle. Look at the spreadsheet.I look at the spreadsheet. The numbers swim, so I look at the window. There’s a pigeon on the ledge, fat and gray, staring at me like I owe it money.“What are you looking at?”The pigeon leaves. Great. Even the pigeon.Someone knocks twice, and Caleb comes in without waiting, holding his tablet against his chest. He’s twenty-six, been my assistant for eight months, and he has been stuck with a boss who hasn’t gone home since Tuesday. There’s a pillow behind my office couch. He’s pretending not to see it.“Morning, Mr Fisher. Quick run-through?”“Shoot.”“The Hendricks shipment cleared customs, but the port wants the revised manifest by Friday, or they hold it again. Your father called three times.” He glances at the glass. “He wants you at the board meeting at two.”“Tell him I’m busy.”“I told him that Monday. And Tuesday.”“Then tell him aga
(Lorei’s POV)I step on the rooftop lounge, and it's freezing. I realize I’m standing on it barefoot in a camisole and shorts, and my feet already hurt, and I don’t care, because it’s the only place in this house where nobody can hear me. I had tossed off the dress somewhere as I was coming to the roof. “I hate him.”I say it out loud to the string lights nobody ever turns on. It comes out so thin, like biting into something and finding it empty. I try again.“I fucking HATE him.”Nothing. My teeth are chattering. A tear runs off my chin and lands on my collarbone, right where I put the perfume, and it’s the perfume that does it. I can smell it. I stood in front of a mirror and thought about whether to wear a bra. For him. Two days ago I was so happy I danced in the car.Why would a person do that for someone they hate?My legs give out and I sit down hard on the cold edge of the wicker chair.Oh.Oh no.No, no, no, no.I put both hands over my face, because it’s right there in my he







