Anastasia’s POV:
The eggs were good.
Lucas was insufferably pleased about this and did not say so out loud which somehow made it worse. I ate and he ate and we did not talk about Whitmore or the drives or the Meridian Group or any of the things that had occupied every waking hour of the past week. We talked about nothing. He told me about a restaurant in Rome he had eaten at alone on a business trip three years ago and spent the entire meal wishing he had someone to share it with. I told him about a design project I had abandoned halfway through during the marriage because I had run out of time and space to finish it and had found the sketches at the bottom of a drawer eight months ago and started again.
“What was it?” he said.
“A community center,” I said. “Pro bono. For a neighborhoo
