She stared at it.
Taylor noticed her looking and covered the phone. “It’s for a client meeting tomorrow.”
She set the water down. “You brought cake into the house.”
“It’s not cake. It’s… pastries.”
“Are you hearing yourself?”
The CFO’s voice crackled faintly from the speaker. Taylor muted the line fully. “It’s one box in a refrigerator.”
“In a week where I’ve been trying not to rip my own skin off every time I walk past a bakery.”
He blinked, then glanced at the box, then back at her. “I didn’t think.”
“No,” she said. “You didn’t.”
The weariness of the day was already inside her. This tipped it over. “You say we’re doing this together, but you still get to step in and out of it whenever it suits you. You still get to have a normal appetite, normal body, normal distance.”
