“Five days?”
“Yes.”
“In a row?”
“That is usually how vacation works.”
“This quarter?”
“I haven’t taken leave in eight years.”
“I know, but we have the Morrison presentation.”
“It’s two weeks after I return.”
“And Whitaker renewal.”
“I’ve already delegated prep.”
He sighed.
That sigh carried the weight of an accusation.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m tired.”
“We’re all tired.”
“I know.”
“Can you take three?”
I almost agreed.
Then remembered sitting in the parking garage unable to open my car door.
“No.”
Silence.
Finally he said, “Fine.”
Then, “Stay near your phone.”
I booked the trip that night.
A quiet resort on the coast.
Five nights.
No conference center.
No client dinners.
No golf.
No laptop.
Leaving my work computer at home felt irresponsible.
I stood in my bedroom looking at the black bag for a full minute before forcing myself to zip the suitcase without it.
The first day at the resort, I slept fourteen hours.
I missed breakfast.
Nearly missed lunch.
Walked the beach in the afternoon.
Then slept again.
The second day, I read half a novel.
A real novel.
Not a business book pretending to be leisure.
I sat under an umbrella and realized I had read the same paragraph three times because my brain kept expecting an email notification.
There was none.
By the third evening, something inside me had begun to loosen.
I dressed for dinner.
Normal clothes.
No blazer.
No heels.
No laptop case.
The restaurant terrace was crowded, and the host asked whether I would mind sharing one of the larger tables.
That was how Nolan Drake sat across from me.
He looked about forty-five.
Tailored blazer.
No tie.
The relaxed confidence of someone who did not need to make a room notice him.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve been eating room-service sandwiches for two nights.”
“That sounds tragic.”
“It is. Nobody should pay thirty dollars for turkey on bread.”
I laughed.
We ordered.
Conversation happened easily.
Travel first.
Then books.
Then work.
“What do you do?” he asked.
“Strategy consulting.”
His eyes sharpened slightly.
“Where?”
“Apex Global.”
Interesting pause.
“What group?”
“Enterprise transformation.”
Another pause.
“Claire?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“That explains something.”
“What?”
“Your name.”
I laughed awkwardly.
“That sounds ominous.”
“No. I’ve heard it.”
“From whom?”
“Clients.”
That should have told me more.
Instead, I shrugged.
“It’s a small industry.”
We talked about work culture.
I admitted this was my first real vacation in eight years.
Nolan stared.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
“Eight years?”
“I’ve traveled.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“That’s what my doctor said.”
He leaned back.
“What kind of company lets a senior strategist go eight years without taking leave?”
“The kind where the strategist keeps volunteering.”
“That answer is more concerning.”