“I’m just glad you’re here.”
She tilted her head.
“What do you do exactly?”
“Client outreach. Campaign strategy. A little of everything. Small agency life.”
“Do you like it?”
The question hit me harder than I expected.
Liked.
Past tense, maybe.
Present tense, still.
I swallowed.
“I love it.”
Her eyes held mine.
“Even after what happened?”
“That wasn’t the work,” I said. “That was one man.”
She sat back slowly.
I could almost see her filing that answer away somewhere important.
Then she asked about my family.
I told her about Emily.
The girls.
The emergency fund.
The fear.
Not all of it in those exact words, but enough for her to understand the shape of my life.
When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a small leather-bound appointment book.
“Yes,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I thought so.”
