"Julia—"
"Mr. Vanetti, I—" She stopped. Started again. "Quentin. You should probably know that I…"
"Know what?"
She opened her mouth, closed it. Like she wanted to say something important but couldn't find the words.
Finally: "This week. Working with you. It's been..." She glanced at the floor. "It's been really nice."
Nice. Such an inadequate word for what this week has been.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "It has."
My hand was still near her face. I should drop it. Should step back.
I didn't.
"This is probably a terrible idea," she whispered.
"Probably."
"You're my boss."
"I am."
"There are rules about this kind of thing."
"There are."
Neither of us moved.
"We should go back to the party," Julia said, still not moving.
"We should."
"Barbara's probably wondering where we are."
"Probably."
The air between us felt electric. Dangerous.
One of us needed to be the adult. The professional. The one who stepped back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, shattering the moment.
Julia quickly stepped back. Picked up the dish towel. Focused intently on drying a mug that was already dry.
I pulled out my phone. Text from Stone:Where are you?
Break room. On my way.
I looked at Julia. She was very carefully not looking at me.
"We should get back," I said.
"Yes. Of course." She hung up the towel. Reached for her jacket.
"Julia?"
