Page 35 of All's Well that Friends Well
How can she possibly know that?
“What makes you think you know anything about me?” I bite the question out, and she straightens up, looking down at me.
And it’s the strangest feeling—because right now, in this very moment, I truly feellooked down on. Or maybe that’s not the right term. Pitied, maybe, or like between the two of us, I’m the one who’s lacking. It’s in the gentle smile she gives me, and her soft, sad eyes.
Then I find myself wondering what it says about me thatIexpect to be the one looking down onher.Something sick and full of disgust sinks into my gut, because my parents raised me better than that. Rodney taught me better than that.
“It’s my superpower,” she explains, almost apologetic now and completely unaware of my secret shame. “I’m good with reading people. I know it the same way I know Susan in HR is a big softie, or the way I know my supervisor is kind of gross, or the way I know Marianne and that guy Josh are dating.”
“I—what?” I say, distracted by this. I turn to look out the windows toward the back set of cubicles where Marianne and Josh work, but the blinds are closed.
She nods. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t trying to pry. I was just saying that you come off rude and abrasive sometimes. I don’t mean it as an insult. It’s just true.”
“Then what do you see in me?” I say. I don’t mean it tosound as bitter as it does. But Juliet Marigold is sweet and kind—bright and sparkling. And I’m…
Well. I’m a man who broke up with his fiancée right before she died. A man who accepted endless condolences and pity, all while knowing he’d been leaving.
I’m a man who has lost all rights to love anyone.
“Oh, I see plenty of things in you,” Juliet says as my mind replays its nightmares, over and over in a loop. “But we don’t need to talk about that right now, I don’t think.”
There’s a hesitance in her voice now, something discerning, and when I pull myself back to the present, I find her looking at me with concern. I snap my gaze away from hers, gratitude rushing through me when she doesn’t push, doesn’t pry.
She just gives a little shrug and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Well,” she says into the awkward silence. She leans down and switches out the trash can liner, tying the old one and holding it up. “Duty calls.” Then she turns and heads toward my office door.
She’s almost there when I find myself speaking again. “Wait,” I say. I force myself away from thoughts of Maura and instead turn my attention to the memo I need to send. Rodney’s words are springing to mind—the way he called Juliet kindhearted. So when she stops and looks over her shoulder at me, her brows raised in question, I clear my throat.
“Tell me what’s wrong with this,” I say, nodding at my computer screen.
“The email?” she says in surprise.
“Yes.”
Her shoulders twitch into another shrug. “Read it out loud?”
I clear my throat again, because somehow last time did nothing. “Employees—it has come to my attention that some of you are taking longer lunch breaks than appropriate. Colorado state law mandates thirty minutes of time, while you are already being given forty-five. Kindly keep your break at forty-five minutes or less. Regards, Luca Slater.” I look up at her. “I don’t see how that’s rude.”
“It could be worse,” she concedes, returning to me, her strawberry scent lingering in the air between us. “But it’s not going to engender any affection. You need to acknowledge your employees’ feelings. And don’t demand things;ask. They’ll still understand that you’re setting rules.”
“Will they?” I say skeptically.
“Yes,” she says, and although my gaze is still on the screen in front of us, I can hear her rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so accusatory, either. Here, try this.”
When she looks at me expectantly, I put my hands on the keyboard, ready to type, and she nods.
“Dear employees—it has come to my attention that lunch breaks lately have been longer than the prescribed forty-five minutes. While I understand that work can be tiring, it’s important to stick to our schedule so we can go home on time at the end of the day. Please let me know if you would rather stay later in the evening, and we can work something out. Thanks for your hard work. Regards, Luca Slater.”
I blink up at her. “No one is going to want to stay later in the evenings.”
Her eyes sparkle with something like laughter. “Then they’d better get their work done during the day, hmm?”
It’s…a good idea. Excellent, even.
“It doesn’t sound like me at all,” I say.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” She raises her brows. “Are you going to use it?”
I just grunt, but I already know this is the email I’m going to send.
