not to notice.
I noticed him noticing.
My relationship with Alessandro changed in ways neither of us planned.
Not romance.
Not at first.
For a long time, he remained my employer’s owner.
Then former direct employer.
Then the executive who happened to appear in meetings and argue about budgets.
We learned each other through disagreement.
He hated inefficiency.
I hated urgency masquerading as importance.
He believed premium service required redundancy.
I believed redundancy sometimes meant paying three people to solve one rich person’s inconvenience.
We compromised.
Occasionally.
One evening, after a six-hour emergency-planning meeting, we ended up alone in the building café.
He ordered espresso.
I ordered tea.
“You’ve become difficult,” he said.
“I was always difficult.”
“You were quiet.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
He smiled.
“No.”
Then he said:
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“The first three months.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
I
