Allie beamed. “Let me just find somewhere to put this coffee. Do you want Vivian’s? I’ll have to run out and get her another one anyway.”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay,” Allie said, and added, “you look a little pale. You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“Um.”

Right then, Simon appeared. He grinned at Jules. “Good morning, birthday girl. How’s the day treating you so far?”

Jules gasped, hid her face in her hands, and started to cry.

There was shocked silence for one moment, and then Allie asked, distraught, “Jules, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jules said, and then the sheer absurdity of saying that made her give a sharp, painful, hysterical little laugh. She hiccupped.

Simon offered her a tissue, grimacing.

She dashed it over her eyes and saw little mascara smudges coming away.

“Mark Tavio just fuh-fired me,” she choked out. Jules had to be out of Koening forever by tonight, so what was the point in concealing the truth?

Allie gasped, “What?”

“H-he fired me—just now, in the elevator. I—”

And then Simon’s hand, warm and firm, was on her shoulder. “Get up. We’re going to my office. Allie, watch the phones and keep quiet.”

“Okay,” Allie whispered.

Jules obeyed the arm tugging her elbow. She covered her nose with another tissue and followed Simon down the hall, glad that not everybody had arrived at work yet.

He got them both into his office and shut the door, then eased Jules onto a high-legged stool. “Don’t fall off. Now tell me what happened.”

She related it all, every detail she could remember.

Simon’s face went through a series of changes: first it was incredulous, then it darkened with anger, and finally it smoothed out in resignation. “It’s been coming for a while. I didn’t know it would come like this, though. And on your birthday. Christ, I’m sorry, Jules.”

“Not your fault,” she mumbled, staring down at her hands, limp and useless in her lap.

“No. But I think I can help.” And now there was something else in his voice: the unidentifiable tone Jules had heard a few times before but never understood.

She looked back up at him, trying to blink her tears away.

Simon seated himself on another stool facing Jules. “I was going to tell you this over drinks this evening, but why don’t we bump it up a few hours, hm?”

“Bump it up?” A cold weight sat in her chest, but Simon’s familiar presence steadied her as if she’d put a hand on a solid surface before falling.

“Remember when I asked you about your birthday back in London?”

Jules sniffled as she nodded.

“And I said you should make the most of new opportunities?”

Another nod.

“Bet you thought it was a weird question, didn’t you?”

She nodded for a third time. Deep breaths, deep breaths.