After the conference in D.C., they booked your hotel room next to hers. A coincidence. Probably.

You heard her knock just after midnight. She stood barefoot in leggings and a sweatshirt, hair loose, holding two glasses of whiskey.

“Can’t sleep,” Emily said simply. “You?”

You shook your head and let her in.

“You always keep things bottled up,” she said, pouring for both of you. “I’ve noticed that.”

You exhaled shakily.

“I’m scared that if I talk, I won’t stop.”

Emily held her glass out to you.

“Then start with me.”