Page 18 of Wells

That's enough to calm me, at least for now. I'll breathe easier once that comes back clear.

I swipe to the reply box and type fast before the caution in my chest can take root.

Sandra, thank you so much. I accept and will work on the portal documents this afternoon.

I hit send and drop the phone into my lap before backing out. Locke asked me to drop by after the interview, and I'm nearly vibrating to tell someone. I turn toward St. Anne Street.

When I arrive, hardly remembering the drive, I knock twice. I push through Locke's front door before he can answer. The apartment smells like coffee and the lavender candle he burns in the bathroom.

The couch sits under the window, piled with throw pillows that never match. Locke stands in the kitchen with a clear glass of what looks like iced tea in one hand and his phone in the other.

He looks up and grins.

"So?"

I hold my phone up and wave it.

"I got the job," I yell giddily, covering my mouth.

"They sent me an email before I even pulled out of the parking garage."

Locke slams the glass down on the counter and crosses the room in three steps. He pulls me into a hug and I laugh against his shoulder. He smells like detergent and something minty. When he pulls back, his hands stay on my arms.

"Cera. That's huge."

My chest tightens, and I nod fast before the burn behind my eyes can start again.

"Yeah. It's real. Finally, a job."

He squeezes once and then lets go. I drop onto the couch and sink into the cushions. My body finally catches up with the last two hours. The adrenaline drains out and leaves me loose and tired.

I had no idea what three and a half months of being unemployed was doing to my psyche.

Locke sits across from me on the coffee table, legs spread, elbows on his knees.

"You like the place? Do you think this is going to be a good fit for you?"

"The place is fine. It's huge, with glass everywhere. It's definitely fancier than any building I've ever worked in."

"Did you meet the boss? What's he like?"

I groan and tip my head back against the couch.

"Complete dick. I mean, he's nice to look at, so you would be in heaven. But he smells like an ashtray."

Locke laughs.

"How is he a dick?"

"I mean, nothing specific. He just comes across like an important asshat."

"What did he say?"

"Besides trying to tell me how shitty the job was? Nothing, really."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him I could handle it."