She turned back to her computer for a minute. “I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes, but would three o’clock work?”
“I’m sure that would be fine, thanks. I’ll get back to work now,” I said, anxious to be done with this unpleasant task.
I took my leave and drove over to the rehearsal hall to talk to the director.
The job of my dreams morphed subtly into a very serious responsibility. It was no one’s fault, but the simple notion of checking Nicole’s blood sugar and helping her rehearse was now layered with some rather intense distractions. Her emotional state would have a direct bearing on her hypoglycemia. That meant I needed to be a little more vigilant and a little less distracted.
The rational mind argued: Her flirting is probably just more to do with her wounded pride rather than an
