Rory didn’t wait. The second the marketing strategy meeting ended, she grabbed her notes and made a beeline to her office—heels clicking a little too fast, breath shallow, palms sweaty for no reason she could logically explain.
But it wasn’t nerves from the meeting.
It wasn’t even the awkward brush-off she gave Jace thirty minutes ago in the hallway.
No.
Something in her chest was twisting.
Coiled. Like her body knew something before her brain caught up.
She locked her office door behind her and dropped into her chair, eyes scanning the windows like someone might be watching her.
Then—a knock.
“Jesus—Blair,” she gasped, clutching her chest as her best friend’s familiar head poked in.
“Heyyyy… what the hell, are you okay? You look like you just found out the guy from the deli is yo
