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lightheaded.   Suddenly I had a
flashback of me lying on that table at Force, Professor Worthington’s hands all
over me, his mouth on mine, the way I had disassociated from myself and left my
body.  
    The metallic scent of blood filled my nose.
    I wretched, feeling the bile rise in my throat
and burn the back of my mouth.
    But I didn’t throw up.
    I couldn’t have thrown up – I hadn’t
eaten anything all day.  
    I stared at the envelope for a long moment and
then shoved it into my bag.
    I wasn’t going to read it now.
    I would wait until I was with Noah.
    Noah would know what to do.

 
    ***

 
    When I got to Noah’s office, there were
reporters and paparazzi scattered around on the sidewalk outside.   Photographers with cameras slung around
their necks, sleek-haired blond journalists holding microphones and notepads.
    They swarmed me as I
got close, peppering me with questions.
    “Charlotte, are you okay?   Charlotte, is it true that Noah almost
died?   Is he back at work?   Charlotte, will you be testifying at
Colin Worthington’s trial? Charlotte Charlotte ,
Charlotte…”
    Their voices blended together into a cacophony
of sounds and frenzied snaps of the camera.
    I ignored all of them, not sure what I should
say or do.   Instead I strode
purposefully into the building, breathing a sigh of relief once I was safely
through the revolving doors.
    I breezed through security, and when I got to
Noah’s floor, the receptionist smiled and buzzed me through without even asking
me who I was.
    “Hello, Charlotte,” she said, her voice
friendly.   “Mr. Cutler is waiting
for you.”
    It was a small thing, her knowing my name,
letting me in without questioning who I was or why I was there.
    But it was a change.
    Noah must have told her he was expecting me,
must have told her who I was, that we were together.
    I flushed with pleasure.
    And yet it was tempered.
    The whole time, Professor Worthington’s letter
burned a hole through my purse.   I
knew he was locked up, that he was being held without bail.   Noah and I had given statements to the
police in the hospital, and they’d assured us they were doing a thorough
investigation, had even made a point to tell us the charges against Noah had
been formally dropped and that they would work as hard as possible to bring
Professor Worthington to justice.   It
would be a while before he even stood trial, and even then, with my testimony,
he would most certainly be found guilty.
    My testimony.
    I would have to testify against him.
    I imagined him staring at me, his eyes cold as
I took the witness stand.   I
remembered the sick squishing sound his eye had made as I’d slammed the heel of
my shoe into it.
    My stomach lurched, and I quickened my pace as
I walked down the hall to Noah’s office.
    I needed him.
    The door to the office was closed, and I
knocked.
    “Come in,” he said, sounding distracted.
    He was on his cell phone, pacing back and forth
across the carpet, his face set in concentration.   His sleeves were rolled up, his jacket
off, his forearms muscular and tan.
    His suit pants hugged his ass, and I couldn’t
help but admire his body as he crossed the room in front of me.
    He was so gorgeous, so sexy, so in control.   And he was mine.   I resisted the urge to pinch myself, to
make sure this was real life, that this beautiful man
loved me and wanted to be with me.
    And might be asking you to marry him tonight.
    Butterflies swarmed my stomach at the thought,
imagining him down on one knee in some romantic restaurant, his face bright
with excitement.
    I stood just inside the door, listening to him
yelling at someone on the other end of the line for not getting a brief to him
on time, ranting about how he was going to file a motion for a mistrial.
    When he was finally done, he turned to me.   I expected him to be in a bad mood,
expected him to have a heavy darkness after what I’d just witnessed, but
instead, his face broke into a smile.
    “You