By the following Thursday, I had convinced myself I was healing beautifully.
This was mostly because I had:
- purchased three new crystals,
- attended two emergency sound baths,
- and started journaling again.
Unfortunately, my journal entries had deteriorated rapidly from:
Today I choose peace.
to:
WHY DOES MY EX-BOYFRIEND HAVE ACCESS TO MILITARY AIRCRAFT
Still.
Growth is nonlinear.
I sat in my office on the twentieth floor of Celestial Accounting Solutions LLC, staring blankly at a spreadsheet labeled:
QUARTERLY TAX ADJUSTMENTS — REIKI PRACTITIONERS (WESTERN REGION)
People always underestimated how complicated accounting for spiritual healers could get.
You have not known suffering until you've tried explaining deductible incense classifications to a woman named Moonbeam who legally identifies her occupation as "intuitive frequency architect."
Outside the window, rain lashed against the skyline.
Inside, Aquarius from payroll was microwaving salmon again.
Honestly, it was a difficult environment for healing.
I adjusted my glasses and sighed dramatically.
Maybe Taurus was right.
Maybe Aries wasn't a spy.
Maybe he was simply emotionally unavailable and happened to own fourteen passports.
That was entirely possible.
My phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
I froze.
My stomach flipped violently.
Slowly, carefully, I answered.
"...Hello?"
Static crackled on the line.
Then—
"Pisces."
I shot upright so fast I almost launched my laptop onto the floor.
"Oh my GOD."
Aries sounded breathless.
And weirdly close.
"You need to leave your office. Right now."
I frowned.
"What?"
"I don't have time to explain."
"Oh my God, are you in another country?"
A long pause.
Then:
"No."
"Weird. Your voice sounds really nearby."
Another pause.
"Pisces—"
"Also, where have you BEEN? I've had, like, six emotional breakthroughs since you left."
"Pisces."
"And by the way, I know about Vega Blackwell."
Silence.
Heavy silence.
The kind of silence that changes a person.
"...You what?"
Suddenly every light in the office flickered.
Aquarius looked up from the microwave.
"Uh," she said.
Then the window exploded inward.
Glass absolutely detonated across the office.
People screamed.
Someone dropped a printer.
A helicopter appeared directly outside the twentieth-floor window.
Not near the window.
AT the window.
Rain blasted through the office while papers flew everywhere like spiritually distressed confetti.
And standing in the helicopter doorway—
wearing black tactical gear, soaking wet, one hand gripping a cable—
was Aries.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Aquarius slowly lowered her salmon.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
Aries pointed at me aggressively.
"MOVE."
Before I could react, two men in suits burst through the stairwell doors yelling in what sounded vaguely like Serbian.
"OH COME ON," Aries shouted.
The office erupted into chaos.
Moonbeam from Accounts Receivable immediately started crying.
Someone crawled under a desk.
Aquarius whispered:
"This is exactly why I don't date entrepreneurs."
Aries launched himself through the shattered window.
Directly into the office.
Like an emotionally unavailable Batman.
"Pisces," he snapped, grabbing my arm. "We have to go. NOW."
"GO WHERE?"
"OUT THE WINDOW."
I stared at him in horror.
"We're twenty stories up!"
"I know."
"THAT'S WORSE."
One of the suited men shouted something furious from across the office.
Aries swore under his breath in at least two languages.
Then he wrapped an arm around my waist.
"Wait—"
And jumped backward out the window.
I unleashed a scream so primal it probably activated wildlife three states away.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—"
The city spun beneath us in a blur of rain and lights while the cable yanked us downward toward the helicopter.
Wind tore through my hair.
My soul physically left my body around the fifteenth floor.
"ARIES," I shrieked.
"I'VE GOT YOU."
"YOU GODDAMN BIRD-BRAINED PSYCHOPATH."
We slammed into the helicopter doorway.
Aries hauled me inside with terrifying efficiency while bullets pinged somewhere behind us.
BULLETS.
ACTUAL BULLETS.
The helicopter peeled away from the building violently.
I collapsed onto the floor hyperventilating.
"Oh my God," I gasped. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God."
Aries ripped off his headset.
Rainwater dripped from his hair.
Somehow, infuriatingly, he still looked hot.
"You weren't supposed to find me," he said.
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Couldn't you have come through the FRONT DOOR?"
"No."
"NO?"
"There were hostiles in the building."
"You work in GOAT LOGISTICS."
"That's not important right now."
"THAT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING RIGHT NOW."
The helicopter banked sharply.
I grabbed the nearest strap with a noise that can only be described as spiritually devastating.
Then I noticed something horrifying.
"...Is that my cashmere jacket?"
Aries glanced down.
"...Maybe."
"YOU LEFT ME FOR EIGHT DAYS AND STOLE MY JACKET?"
"I was undercover."
"UNDERCOVER AS WHAT? A DIVORCED LESBIAN?"