“Of course,” I muttered, tossing my keys onto the counter and flipping on the light. I regretted it immediately. Glass and papers were strewn across the floor, some smaller shards scattered as far as the other side of the room. And because I was the only one here this early, it looked like president of the cleanup crew would be me.

A supply room just down the hall had a broom and dustpan, and a couple of garbage sacks for everything that would have to be taken out. It took longer than I expected to clean up, reorganize, and stack everything somewhere else, but it felt good to have something mindless to do to clear my head.

With everything done, I put the supplies back in the closet, took a seat at my desk, and powered up my computer. There were a few emails I needed to answer, some last-minute travel details to finalize, and a set of data I needed to check. There was even another interview request, which I filed away until I could look over my schedule and see where I could fit it in. I hadn’t yet mentioned this one to Will, and for just a second I hesitated, remembering our conversation from last night.

But it would be fine. I’d get through them all and we could talk about it when we had actual offers to discuss, rather than getting stressed over a bunch of hypothetical variables.

That settled, I went over to the hood to feed some cells and check some cultures, barely registering that I still hadn’t eaten breakfast or even had a cup of coffee. When I finally resurfaced again, it was to the sound of my stomach growling through the empty room. It was well past lunchtime, and when I looked around for the first time in what had to have been hours, I realized I was still alone. It took a moment to realize why that was: it was Sunday.

Everyone else had probably spent their morning eating brunch or watching mindless TV snuggled up to someone in their jammies—i.e., not here, trying to squint through a hangover at numbers that could easily be put off until Monday.

Dammit. So maybe Will had a point.

The apartment was quiet when I got home. And—I noted—clear of any leftover party debris. I frowned, feeling like a jerk for leaving the mess for him to clean up, and made a mental note to thank him later.