7
Eva.
I almost didn’t believe it when the email came through:
Eva, pack a bag. You’re coming to the conference. Flights are booked. Separate rooms. —JH
I read it three times before it made sense. I could feel the office watching me as I printed my boarding pass, as I slipped into the back of the company car beside Julian, our knees almost touching in the dark. He didn’t look at me, not once during the ride to the airport. He spent the whole time on the phone, calm and clipped, his wedding ring catching the city lights as he gestured.
At the gate, we stood just a little too close. My chest ached with nerves, anticipation, fear. I kept thinking about what had happened in his office the night his wife came. The bruises on my hips hadn’t faded, a faint ache that throbbed every time I sat
