“How was your day?”
It should have been an innocent enough question. But ever since Fiona made it clear to me how “creepy” it had been for me to ask about her work while I was keeping secret from her that I was her boss, I’d been trepidatious about returning to the habit of asking that question.
“It was fine.” She offered me a tight smile. “Pretty average Monday. Lots of meetings.”
She kicked off her shoes and started putting her things away. New to the routine tonight was a stop over at her desk, where her briefcase was apparently now going to reside.
“How about you?” she asked.
“My day was good. Busy.” The thought of recapping any part of the Iris medical testing ordeal seemed needless. “You ready for dinner, or want to relax a little before we go eat?”
“Relaxing first sound
