The elevator ride to the penthouse took exactly forty-five seconds. To Andy Finch and Louise Cooper, it felt like a lifetime.
They were barely inside the private car before they were on each other again. Andy had Louise pressed against the mirrored wall, his hands framing her face, kissing her as if he were trying to breathe for her. Louise had her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to erase the memory of every other man, every other timeline, every other mistake.
The doors dinged open, revealing the expansive, dimly lit foyer of Andy’s apartment.
They stumbled out, a tangle of limbs and urgency. Andy kicked the door shut behind them, the lock engaging with a heavy, definitive thud.
"Bedroom," Andy growled against her neck, his voice rough with a decade of suppres
