The Hollow Page 0,81
of a major trauma like the one you went through last night just to be stupid. So I circle right back to the matter of trust. I let you inside me, I took you inside me in that bed, but you won't let me inside you. You won't tell me what hurt and scared you."
"You need to back off, Layla. This just isn't the time."
"You get to choose the time? Well, that's fine. Just let me know when it's convenient for you, and I'll pencil me in."
She started out, and he did nothing to stop her. Then she stopped, looked dead into his eyes. "Who's Carly?"
When he said nothing, when his eyes went blank, she walked away and left him alone.
HE DIDN'T EXPECT HER TO COME INTO THE OFfice, actively hoped she wouldn't. But while he was in his law library trying to concentrate on research, he heard her come in. There was no mistaking it for anyone else. Fox knew the way she moved, even her morning routine.
Open the door of the foyer closet, hang up coat, close the door. Cross to the desk, open the bottom right-hand drawer, stow purse. Boot up the computer.
He heard all the busy little sounds. They made him feel guilty, and the guilt annoyed him. They'd ignore each other for a few hours, he decided. Until she calmed down and he settled down.
Then, they'd just move past it.
Ignoring and avoidance worked well enough for most of the morning. Every time the phone rang, he braced for her voice to come snipping over the intercom. But she never buzzed him.
He told himself he didn't sneak from the library to his office. He simply walked very, very quietly.
When he heard her go out to lunch, he strolled out to reception, took a casual scan of her desk. He noted the short stack of while-you-were-outs for him. So she wasn't passing the calls through, he mused. No problem, that worked. He'd do the callbacks later, he decided. Because if he took the messages into his office, it would become obvious he'd been out there poking around her desk.
Now he felt stupid. Stupid, tired, beleaguered, and a little pissed off. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started back to his office and jolted when the door opened. Relief came when he saw Shelley walk in rather than Layla.
"Hi. I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute. I just saw Layla outside, and she said you were in, probably not real busy."
"Sure. You want to come back?"
"No." She walked to him, and just put her arms around him. "Thanks. I just wanted to say thanks."
"You're welcome. What for?"
"Block and I had our first counseling session last night." She gave a sigh, stepped back. "It was kind of intense and it got pretty emotional, I guess. I don't know how it's all going to end up, but I think it helped. I think it's better to try, to talk, even if we're yelling, than to just say screw you, you bastard. If I end up saying that, at least I'll know I gave it a good shot first. I don't know if I would have if you hadn't been looking out for me."
"I want you to get what you want, whatever that is. And to be happy when you get it."
She nodded, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I know Block went after you, and you didn't press charges. He's feeling, I guess the word's chastised. I wanted to thank you for that, too, for not pressing charges."
"It wasn't all his fault."
"Oh, it was, too." But she laughed a little. "He's got some making up to do, but he knows it. He's got a black eye. I don't give a rat's ass if it's small of me, but I appreciate that, too."
"No charge."
She laughed a little. "Anyway. We're going to keep going, see what happens. I get to go alone next, and I am so unloading." Now she grinned. "Already feels good. I gotta get back to work."
He went back to his office, worked and brooded. He heard Layla come back in. Closet, coat, desk, drawer, purse. He went out the kitchen door, making just enough noise to let her know he'd headed out.
The sun was brilliant in a ripe blue sky. Though the air was warm enough to keep him comfortable in his light jacket, the chill shot up his spine.
The afternoon mirrored his dream.
He forced himself to round the building to Main.