In and quickly out of love
But to you I gave my affection
Right from the start
Midnight, September 30th, 1890 — London
Fallon had gone through her day in a zombie-like state. Case files were filtered through, signed off on, and filed without her having any recollection of what she just processed. Mercifully, none in the office appeared to notice, as everyone was too distracted by their own work. Nor did they notice that she left for the day without finishing the massive piles of files to sort through, something she hadn't ever done before. For the first time in her life, Fallon's heart wasn't in her work, it was miles away attempting to dance over shards of glass.
Malou hadn't had a concrete answer for her. As Fallon knew, Jesse was the right choice to make. He was well established, not involved in any public scandals, and, most importantly, he cared deeply for her. Just last week they had laid in his hospital bed debating over various vacation spots, and now here she was, ready to torch the whole foundation after one conversation with Lachlan. All their progress, all their hopes and plans, rested on a crate of dynamite with a lit fuse. One second too late, one misstep, and it would all be blown to pieces.
Asking him to come over near midnight wasn't an intentional plan. In fact, had she realized just how late it was, she would've waited until morning and called in sick to work. (Not a wise plan considering she had just gone back after a month off, but she wasn't capable of focused work anyway.) The letter was sent, though, and now all there was left to do was wait in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in hand. Her hair was a loose mess, her pajamas (trousers and a button down shirt) were disheveled from hours of pacing. Malou was at work, presumably, as she certainly wasn't in the apartment. (For the best, really, as Fallon doubted this would be a wholly friendly conversation.)
All she could do was wait and hope he answered her letter.