The company Christmas party was always a mess of cheap wine, forced cheer, and secrets spilling out after the third round of drinks. This year it was being held in the ballroom of the downtown hotel, all twinkling lights, fake snow on the windows, and a DJ playing the same tired holiday playlist on loop. I’d been looking forward to it for weeks, not for the bonus announcements or the awkward Secret Santa, but for him.
Ryan. The married IT guy from the third floor. Tall, quiet, with dark hair that always fell into his eyes and a wedding ring he never took off. We’d been flirting for months, little things at first: lingering by the printer, “accidental” brushes in the break room, emails that started professional and ended with just enough heat to make my pulse race. He was careful, always p
