Our break had become strangely easy to manage.
Not emotionally.
Logistically.
Augustus remained my boss. I still knew his schedule better than anyone, and he still trusted my judgment on correspondence and briefings.
Our conversations had become almost flawless.
"The revised projections are ready."
"Excellent."
"The suppliers confirmed their delivery schedules."
"Thank you."
"Anything else, Mr. Evans?"
"No, Juliette. That will be all."
I hadn't called him Augustus in days.
He'd stopped using the warmth that once slipped into his voice when we were alone. Now he addressed me with the same measured courtesy he extended to everyone else.
Apparently, heartbreak was excellent for workplace efficiency.
On Thursday, the executive team worked through lunch to finalize the quarterly board report. Augustus arranged food for everyone.
My container held grilled salmon with lemon, roasted vegetables, and wild rice.
Exactly what I liked.
I wondered whether he'd chosen it himself.
