“I…might have stopped by her apartment with my initial notes.” I lean back in my chair and take my glasses off to rub the bridge of my nose. “In my defense, I didn’t really want to take the time to type them up.” Hopefully my hand hides the grimace I make, because even I can hear that’s a feeble excuse.

“Ryan—”

“I know.” I replace my glasses and drop my hands helplessly to my knees. “I know, okay? I had to see her again. I wanted to know she was okay.”

“And was she?”

It’s not the response I expected. Casey has every right to chew me out, and he probably should. Showing up at her apartment unannounced when she hadn’t given me her address herself was a violation of her privacy, and Anastasios Press could easily terminate me based on that alone. But when I risk a glance at him, his eyebrows are drawn together, and his head is tilted in genuine concern.

Before I respond, I think back to that day, as if it hasn’t been playing on repeat since I left her. But Casey’s question adds a new lens to it. Was she okay? Her toenails were painted, which is something she only ever did when she had surfaced from her work long enough to give herself a little extra attention. The baking show has always been a comfort thing for her, but she had just had a meeting with us where she had seen me again unexpectedly. I suppose it’s not out of the question for her to curl up with her emotional-support baking competition. Her apartment was clean. Her hair has clearly been cut recently. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but she was never one for that kind of thing anyway. Makeup or no, her skin was glowing. She looked healthy. And she filled out her pajamas—also clean—in a way that has lived rent-free in my head since I saw her. But what it tells me now is that, as I had suspected at that first meeting, she’s probably been eating.

I nod slowly. “Yes. I think she was.”

“And was she pissed you stopped by?” He makes a show of looking me up and down. “You have all your limbs, and I don’t see any obvious bruises. Since you walked in here just fine, I’ll assume she didn’t cut off your balls.”

“Okay, asshole.” I narrow my eyes at him. “She was surprised, obviously, but she seemed okay with it.”

If you need to hand-deliver notes, I wouldn’t mind.

She definitely wouldn’t have said that if she didn’t want me to stop by again. She must have been okay with it.