It’s Friday afternoon before the dinner rush, both the best—and worst—time to get this over with. The idea, planted in my head by Ethan, has been rolling around in my head for two days. Finally, I decide to set it into motion.
I lean against the door frame of my office, taking a deep breath before calling out, “Karl, John, could you both come in here for a moment?”
I don’t miss the sidelong glances exchanged between the two men as they cross the threshold. It’s as if the air thickens, charged with an electricity that neither wants to acknowledge but can’t ignore.
“Please have a seat,” I instruct, nodding toward the two chairs across from my desk.
Karl takes a seat, folding his arms over his chest as if steeling himself for battle. John follows suit but not before shooting K
