Chapter 4: Pre-Office Nerves

Marcus was already at his standing desk by eight-thirty, the converted guest room bathed in the flat morning light that filtered through half-drawn blinds. His wife had left at dawn for an early court hearing, her briefcase gone from the kitchen counter and the house wrapped in that particular silence only an empty home could offer. He had shaved with unusual care in the bathroom, the razor gliding over his jaw while he studied the faint lines etching the corners of his eyes—stress from too many late-night commits and too few real conversations. The scrape of the blade, the cool sting of aftershave, the way the mirror fogged slightly from the hot tap: every small ritual felt sharper today, more deliberate.

He chose the black button-down again, the fabric smooth against his chest as he buttoned it, telling himself it was simply what he wore for calls. Nothing more. The standing desk fan hummed low when he adjusted its height, a steady white noise that blended with the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs. Coffee steamed in his mug, bitter and black, the first sip grounding him as he sat—no, stood—ready for the day. His mind, though, had been looping since last night. Elena’s final voice note had played on repeat in his bed, her voice dropping into that husky register when she mentioned the lace bra. He had lain there under the sheets, half-hard and restless, the ache a quiet reminder of eleven years of a marriage that had cooled into courteous distance. Harmless fun, he had told himself then, the same way he told himself now. Just pixels. Just a shared secret to cut the monotony.

Slack loaded with the usual overnight chatter. At nine-oh-five a company-wide email dropped into his inbox, the subject line bold and unavoidable: Mandatory One-Day In-Office Alignment Meeting Next Week. Marcus’s heart rate spiked instantly, a sudden jolt that tightened his stomach. Fourteen months of nothing but screens, and now this—Elena in three dimensions, real air between them, the possibility of her scent, her proximity, her actual laugh without the slight lag of video. His pulse beat harder in his throat as he read the logistics: conference room, travel reimbursement, seating chart to be finalized. The thought of her walking into the same room sent a fresh surge through him, blood rushing south before he could rein it in.