Fiona stayed in his arms a full minute longer than she meant to.
His shirt was damp where her tears had soaked through, his skin warm beneath the fabric, his arms locked around her like he thought she might vanish if he exhaled too hard. For sixty long seconds she let herself pretend this was simple. That the kiss had fixed something. That the world outside this office didn't exist.
She pulled away slowly—first her cheek from his chest, then her hands from his shirt, then one careful step backward until his arms had no choice but to fall to his sides.
Martin's eyes tracked every inch of distance like it physically hurt.
"I better go back," she said quietly. "Before everyone starts looking for me."
He nodded once—quick, jerky.
"Okay." His voice was still rough from the kiss, from the crying, from everything. "I'll be here. I'll take you home after work."
Fiona shook her head before he even finished the sentence.
"No need. I don't want people looking at me awkwardly."
