I woke Sunday morning with Augustus's question lodged beneath my ribs like a shard of glass.
Do you ever take anything seriously when you aren't at work?
I stared at the ceiling, replaying yesterday. The museum. The concert. The dinner that never happened.
He wasn't entirely wrong.
I'd checked my phone twice at the museum. Lost concentration during the concert. Counted minutes when I should have been listening.
But what hurt wasn't the observation.
It was the assumption behind it.
My phone buzzed.
Augustus Evans: Good morning. May we talk?
Ordinarily, I'd reply with something ridiculous about his customer service skills.
Today, I typed:
Juliette Harper: I think we should.
Augustus Evans: May I come to the estate this afternoon?
Juliette Harper: Yes.
No teasing. No deflection.
I didn't want another apology that left the underlying problem untouched.
Augustus arrived at three without flowers, gifts, or carefully planned surprises.
Good.
