Abby
Karl hands me the report, his expression unreadable. I can feel his gaze on me as I pick up the stack of papers and scan the first page.
“That’s everything my people could find,” he says.
I look up at him and nod.
It took an hour to get the report, and we spent most of it in tense silence. His staff brought in tea, which we both drank quietly, his with Kahlua, mine black. Then he had to take a few calls while I sat and pretended not to listen. The worst, though, was when he ran out of things to do, and we just stared at each other across the desk for ten minutes.
I could tell, with every passing minute, that he wanted to bring up what he said about reconciling. Thankfully, he didn’t. He could probably pick up on the fact that I wasn’t in the most
