Arwen tipped her head. “You sure? You look upset.”

There was that tremor of fear. “I’m great,” Juliet said, adjusting her posture.

“Your martini, madam.” The server set it down. “And for you, miss?”

“Perrier, please. Unless you feel uncomfortable drinking alone, Juliet. Alcohol makes me sleepy, so I never drink at lunch.”

Fuck. Alcohol made Juliet sleepy, too. She’d already lost this pissing match. “No. I’m fine. I . . . ” I just saw my father snogging another woman. “I’m good. It’s nice to see you, especially since we had to miss last month’s lunch.”

“How long do they go on, these mentorship meetings?” Arwen asked. The implication was clear. She no longer needed or desired them.

“We never set a formal policy, but generally, three years,” Juliet said, making it up on the spot. The truth was, all her previous hires loved going out with her, viewing it as special time with the likely next partner of DJK. “How are you? How are things?”

“Excellent.” She took her nonalcoholic drink from the server and nodded thanks, looking both elegant and warm at the same time. Juliet could feel the sweat breaking out under her arms. Her face was still flushed. Arwen took a sip of water and tilted her head. “Pardon me for asking a personal question, Juliet, but are you having a hot flash?”

Fuck you. “No,” Juliet said, trying to laugh. “I’m forty-three. A little young for that.”

“My mom started when she was your age.” A sympathetic smile.

“Well, my mom had a baby at my age.”

“Really? Are you planning to have another?”

You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Me on maternity leave. “No, no. Two is just fine. Wonderful. The best.”

Her father was having an affair. Would her parents get a divorce? A sudden lump rose in her throat. She took a drink of the vodka, its burn welcome. “Tell me about the stadium project. Ian said there was some confusion on ADA compliance.”

“No. He was mistaken.” She smiled. “It’s going beautifully, and even a little bit ahead of schedule. Now. What shall we order?”

— —

When Juliet got home that night, she was exhausted and wired at the same time. Oliver had fed the girls already, and Sloane was in bed, Brianna doing homework (i.e., messaging her friends).

“I’ve got a lovely big martini ready when you are,” he said. “Salmon, couscous and brussels sprouts, with a fat slab of chocolate cake I picked up at Sweetie Pies just for you.”

“You’re amazing,” Juliet said. “I’ll go say good night to the girls and be right back.”

Sloane was already sleepy, her Patronus being an elderly cat who slept and liked to be petted. “How’s my girl?” Juliet asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking Sloane’s silky hair.

“I’m good, Mommy. How are you?”