Page 102 of The Friend Situation

“Okay,” she says, nodding as she opens a drawer in her kitchen. She pulls out a bag of money.

“Is there anything on your laptop I need to know about?”

She shakes her head as if trying to remember. “There are photos and blog articles and …” Her eyes widen.

“Carlee?”

She exhales, and I can feel her unease.

“Hey.” I give her a smile. “Whatever it is, we’ll navigate it together.”

Her heart rate ticks fast in her neck. She’s spiraling. “I madevideosand took pictures for my exes. They’re on my hard drive. Weston, what if they get out?” Carlee’s voice strains and I see tears threatening to spill over, but she fights it.

“If that were released, I’d spend as much money and resources as needed to track them down and make them pay. Anything else?”

Her eyes unfocus. “Old articles and research I’ve done for the blog. Most of LuxLeaks’ stuff is backed up. It’s just personal things that aren’t. Oh God. My journal. I might be sick.”

I move her to the couch and sit beside her, sinking into the cushions.

“I think it’s password-protected,” she whispers, placing her face in her hands. “I think I closed it.”

“What did you write about?”

She turns to me. “Everything.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I admit.

“My deepest thoughts.”

Carlee begins hyperventilating, and I grab her hand.

“Deep breaths, okay? Breathe in through your mouth until your lungs are full, then exhale through your nose. Do it with me,” I say, remaining calm. It’s the only thing that used to help me when I started to spiral.

I take her hands, opening them from the balled fists they’re in, gliding my fingers over her palms. “If you tense your hands, your body believes you’re in fight-or-flight mode. Relax. Unlock your jaw.” I rub my thumb across her cheek, keeping my voice steady. “And if you smile, it tells your brain you’re safe.”

She blows out a deep breath and nods with a forced smile.

“You are safe,” I whisper, running my fingers across her palms. “This will pass. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you,” she finally says, sounding calmer than before.

We sit in silence for a few minutes before we try to speak at the same time.

“Go ahead,” I tell her.

“Do you think it’s safe to stay here?”

“No,” I reply firmly.

“Where will I go?”

I can see her growing upset again.

“Wherever you want. I have a beautiful loft in Tribeca that’s not being used, or you can stay with me at The Park. I can get you a room at any hotel in the city. Whatever you decide, I support it, but there’s no way in hell I’ll allow you to stay here until we find out who’s responsible. They could come back.”

She’s in shock, and I know she’s not thinking clearly.

“I need to make a few phone calls, and I need you to ensure nothing else is missing. Okay?”

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