Come As You Are Read Online Free Page B

one.
    The door at the end of the hall was closed but I heard voices indicating Stinson wasn’t alone. I gave a timid tap on the door.
    “Come in.”
    Suddenly I felt nervous. Not sure why. I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed the door open to find myself at one end of a long narrow table flanked with cushy office chairs. Ceiling lights that were too bright. Some artwork on the walls that looked like it had been picked up at a furniture store. Or maybe not. Maybe it was some original stuff, something anybody with highbrow tastes would immediately recognize.
    At the far end of the table, opposite me, opposite the door, sat two people, one on each side. There was Mr. Stinson, hair dry this time. Across from him, dressed in the same plaid shirt I’d seen draped across the hotel chair just a few hours ago, was the guy I’d slept with last night.

Chapter 6
    Holy crap.
    The guy and I stared at each other for what seemed like an hour. What the hell was he doing here? Did he work for Mr. Stinson?
    “Take a seat, Ms. Young.” Stinson motioned to the empty chair next to him. Sit? I wanted to turn and run. What the hell? I mean, what the hell? And the guy? He had a what-the-hell look on his face too. Maybe an even bigger what-the-hell than mine. Almost like he’d had a bucket of ice water dumped on his head.
    “Um, I don’t want to be rude,” I finally said, still standing in the open door, “but I’d really prefer it just be the two of us.” I unstuck my gaze from the boy-man to latch onto Stinson.
    Stinson shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I asked you here at eleven o’clock for just that reason, Ms. Young. I wanted to break this to you before you met Ian. Please.” He motioned toward the chair again. “Sit down.”
    At that point I realized I was sweating. A lot. Armpits, a trickle running down my spine. My upper lip was wet, and I swiped at it with the back of my fingers, letting the door slam closed behind me. But I didn’t sit down next to either of them. Instead, I dropped into the nearest chair, which happened to be two feet from the door and at the head of the table. With a clang, I dragged my black messenger bag onto the expanse of wood, the metal rings echoing loudly.
    “That’s fine,” Stinson said, “if you’d like to sit there.” He cleared his throat, and now I saw that he had several sheets of legal paper in his hands. The will, I presumed.
    I didn’t get it. This Ian dude must work for Stinson, but doing what? A student? Sometimes students shadowed professionals. Maybe he was a law student and this was credit. Yeah, that might be it. But the table in front of him was empty. Not a pen or a piece of paper. Maybe he was a courier. Maybe he had to run something to the courthouse or run something to the bank. Whatever needed to be done. I think a will had to be filed at the courthouse. Yeah, I’ll bet that was it. Courier.
    I forced myself to breathe. What did it matter? I’d just pretend I didn’t know him. Which wasn’t going to be hard to do since it was the truth.
    I glanced at him. He was staring again, but he quickly looked down at his hands, which were folded in front of him.
    Stinson cleared his throat. “Dr. Young was very fastidious about his will,” he said. “And he was good about keeping it updated. This latest version was drafted a little less than six months ago.” He passed stapled papers to both of us. “Here’s a copy for each of you.”
    Okay, that was weird. A courier wouldn’t actually see the will. That took me back to student. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why is he here?”
    “You’ll get it in a moment. Let me direct your attention to the first page where you’ll see that this document was dated six months ago. Then let me direct your attention to the very last page.”
    All three of us riffled through the awkward legal-size pages, and there was my father’s bold signature. And there were the signatures of witnesses, along with the notary