The coffee in front of me had already gone cold. I didn’t remember when I had forgotten to drink it. My attention was fixed on the window behind the German shareholder, where the sunlight reflecting over Seville created patterns that reminded me of Giulia’s hair as she ran toward school.
“...and with these third-quarter numbers, we project—”
The man’s voice faded into the storm inside my head.
Did Isabella remember the strawberry-flavored toothpaste Giulia likes? She always throws a fit over the mint one.
“Miguel?”
I blinked. The four men in the room were staring at me. The Frenchman, Lefèvre, wore the expression of someone who had already repeated himself three times.
“I apologize. Could you repeat that?”
Lefèvre sighed but restarted his explanation about the Asian markets. I tried
