When I’m downstairs, I head to Asher’s office and for twenty minutes, I listen to the Menopausal Momager from the Seventh Circle of Hell go off on me for sending her a wine and cheese basket when she’s lactose intolerant. I try to apologize, but she goes on and on and on, until I consider strangling myself with the phone cord. When Ana and Willa walk by, all I manage to do is smile weakly at them as they walk hand-in-hand into the elevator. I don’t hear anything else Elizabeth says after that. I’m consumed by a pang of jealousy.

I don’t see Asher again until after five and the office is empty. No one stays for movie night. Not even Emanuel. I have no idea what I’m going to do with an entire trolley of popcorn and thirteen bags of Twizzlers and M&Ms, but I have a feeling I’m going to be on a sugar high for the rest of the year.

“Hey.” I peek my head into his office and he glances up at me briefly. “Are you staying for the movie?”

“No, I’m staying to finish work.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“I don’t think Ellen Thompson would appreciate me putting off her mother’s death announcement until tomorrow.”

I swallow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Do you need something, Olivia? My breakfast order for tomorrow? Some work to take home? Levi Booker’s phone number?”

His jaw is clenched so tightly that I worry for his teeth. I can’t read his expression, just that he’s staring straight through me and he looks angry. And I’ve seen Asher angry, but never quite like this. He’s a ticking time bomb.

“Thank you,” I say. “For the chocolates.”

He looks back at his computer screen. “They weren’t from me.’

“Right,” I say and shrink back through the door frame. “They were from your lawyer.”

I take the elevator to the roof and bundle up beneath a blanket and a heating lamp. After too much popcorn and a bag of Twizzlers, I feel sick.

* * *

The light in Asher’s office is still on, which might be the least shocking thing ever. Energy conservation is clearly not one of his top priorities. I’m going to add motion detecting lights to our suggestion box again.

I flick the light switch in his office off after I pull on my jacket. My candy cane striped shorts are barely covered, and I’m still shivering from my rooftop rager for one, so I decide to treat myself to an UberPool. Riding the subway in my pajamas this morning was enough for me.

The elevator dings just as I hit the button, and when the doors part, I’m greeted by Alexander McGowan.