She went down the corridor with the attorney, and the floor didn’t look at me.

I turned back toward the glass, and Gavin was still in the leather chair with the folder pulled close, reading the numbers again as if they might have changed while we were gone.

Nina reached me first, her ballpoint pen clicking against her thumb.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I should have told you about the logs before Gavin got to you.”

Two media buyers stood behind her, holding their coffee cups with both hands.