She waved me off without sparing me a glance. “It won’t take much longer. Once I got going, the first half went really fast. One more hour, I promise.”

But I had heard that before. “Another hour” would turn into “Why not get ahead?” and “If I write double, maybe I can turn this in early,” which was almost always followed by a frantic “Nothing will ever be as good as In the Time Before” and ten pages gone with the click of a button.

I scrubbed a hand down my face and padded groggily to the kitchen to put on another pot of coffee. If she was going to pull an all-nighter, the least I could do was make sure she didn’t delete it all when she reread it in the light of day.

“Hello? Ryan? Did I lose you?” Trina’s voice cuts through the memory, scattering it like leaves in a windstorm.

I clear my throat and glance out the floor-to-ceiling window in my office, almost surprised to find the spring sunshine streaming in, casting the room in a bright, happy light. Those darker memories haven’t been as prevalent as the other, softer ones, but this one felt real enough to be an omen. It dissipated, but it’s lingering.

“No, I’m here. I’m sorry,” I say, still blinking in the light from the window.

“I asked what you thought of the premise. Did you hear me?”

“Sorry,” I apologize again. “I didn’t. You were cutting out.”

It’s yet another lie, but this time Trina is onto me. “Mm-hmm,” she hums, unconvinced. Then, after a pregnant pause, she says, “Scarlett is okay. This isn’t like last time.” Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but there’s something underneath it. Agitation? Disquiet?

I run a finger over the edge of my desk to ground myself and take a guess at what she’s upset about. “If it bothered her that much, I won’t see her again unless I have to.”

“Hmm?” she hums again, distracted this time. “Oh, no. She…well, she’s an idiot mostly, as you know, and she actually seemed touched that you went out of your way to drop off those notes.”

A soft smile curls half of my mouth upward, but the relief is short lived. “What aren’t you saying, Trina?”

“I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to see her again. She’s got systems in place now. Lots of therapy, medication…you know?”

There’s an unspoken but at the end of her statement, so I wait her out.

Trina’s sigh turns into a little mewling whine, and I know she’s about to say something she wishes she could hold back. “The late nights aren’t great for her. But I’m on it, okay? There’s nothing to worry about yet.”