[Killian]
The door closes behind her. The sound it makes is almost nothing.
Snow lands on my knuckles. I watch it melt.
I don't know how long I stand here. Could be two minutes. Could be twenty. My internal clock, the one that tracks conference calls to the second and knows exactly when a silence has lasted long enough to make the other side sweat, has gone offline. There's just the cold, and the wet on my fingertip, and the fading sound of a door that didn't slam.
Victoria's text glows on my phone screen. I've read it three times without processing it.
Heard the negotiations got pushed. So I'll come to you. Christmas in Seattle? Already booked the flight. Landing day after tomorrow.
The fourth time, it lands.
Victoria. In Seattle. Forty-eight hours from now, walking through the sam
