3
Emily sprawled across the couch, her arm draped over her forehead. “I don’t know why I couldn’t go with Brett tonight,” she complained. “I’m his assistant, after all. I should be at his side.”
I glanced at one of the pink throw pillows she had wedged all around her. The nauseating color clashed with my kaleidoscope décor. Emily insisted they stay because they were comfortable. Since the couch doubled as her bed, I let the argument slide.
“Where do you think he went?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Shouldn’t you know since you’re at the office all the time?”
She moved her arm a fraction so she could glare at me. “I don’t know everything. He can be very secretive.”
Too secretive.
“I don’t see why I couldn’t go,” she complained.
“They have a new client, right?”
She nodded. “The papers wer
