I want to respond sarcastically. Point out that he is the reason things escalated before. He practically invited the protesters to the retreat. He opened the door and waved the damn people inside. Now it’s not receding as he wants, I have to speak.
I will.
Antonia doesn’t need the stress.
And I won’t contribute to her daily challenges more than I need to.
I’ll handle it.
If I say any more, I may say something I regret, so I agree and move on. At the end of the day, the retreat is coming to life. My life is moving forward. And every hurdle we face can be cleared as a team. Antonia and I.
The day is drawing to a close. It’s dark outside, as it is every time I leave work in winter. The florist confirmed the buds will be on Antonia’s desk at nine tomorrow morning. I wish I could be there to see her—hopefully—smile.
My phone buzzes again. If this is Rose with another dating tidbit, I may block her number. Daughter or not.
But it’s Antonia.
I pause, thumb hovering over the notification, air catching at the back of my throat.
Coffee tomorrow? On site. 10 a.m. Don’t be late.
Direct. Honest. Professional. Forever Antonia.
I smile. I can’t wait to see her.