He glanced at his watch.
“Actually, I promised the guys I’d meet them for a quick round of golf. Pre-holiday tradition, you know. But I’ll be back in plenty of time to help with the heavy lifting tomorrow.”
I stared at him.
“Golf today?”
“Just nine holes, maybe eighteen if we’re making good time. You know how it is.”
He was already heading toward the door.
“You’ve got everything under control here anyway. You’re like a machine when it comes to this stuff.”
Like a machine.
The words hit me harder than they should have. Machines don’t get tired. Machines don’t need help. Machines don’t have feelings that can be hurt by casual dismissal.
