Chapter 5: The Roof

Bree's apartment was the size of a shoebox and smelled like toast.

She pushed a blanket and a bowl of popcorn at me and sat on the coffee table to face me.

"Talk," she said.

"There's nothing to say."

"Claire. A man grabbed you in front of forty people," she said. "The CEO told him to take his hand off."

She spread her hands.

"There's a lot to say."

I told her.

I told her about the shaking, the exam, the elevator, and the way I had felt nothing when Preston touched me.

Bree listened with her eyes getting wider and wider.

"Okay," she said finally. "First, I'm moving you into my bed and I'm taking the couch."

"You don't have to."

"Second, you have been married to a mannequin for thirteen months and you didn't tell me."

"I was embarrassed."

"I'm a nurse. I've seen every body part there is. You can't embarrass me."

She pointed at me.

"Third, the CEO."

"Nothing happened."

"His thumb was on your pulse in a stuck elevator, Claire."

"Nothing happened."

"Your face says something's about to."

I threw a piece of popcorn at her.

She caught it in her mouth, and for the first time in a week I laughed until my ribs hurt.

At seven the buzzer went.

Bree looked at the screen by the door and squeaked.

"Oh, it's him," she whispered. "He's holding a bag."

"Who?"

"Mr. Three-Piece."

I stood up too fast and knocked over the popcorn.

Ronan stood in the narrow hallway with a paper bag in one hand.

He had taken off his jacket and vest.

He wore only the shirt with the sleeves rolled, and his hair was damp from the wind.

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