Chloe stirred her lukewarm coffee for the third time without drinking it. The fluorescent lighting in the office made everything feel vaguely unreal—like she was on the set of a low-budget sitcom about corporate burnout.
Amber slid into the chair across from her in the breakroom, already peeling open a granola bar. “You look like someone tried to poison your morning.”
Chloe snorted. “More like haunt it.”
Amber leaned forward, eyes lighting up. “Oh no. You can’t just drop that and not elaborate.”
Chloe glanced around the breakroom. It was mostly empty. Just a guy she didn’t recognize rummaging through the fridge and—dammit—Adam, standing too close to the vending machine and pretending not to eavesdrop.
Whatever.
“I was coming home from my dad’s place last night,” she said, lowering he
