There were only two seats left at the company dinner. One was in the far corner beside the service station, and the other was next to the man I had secretly loved for three years.
Chapter 1
I had barely taken a step toward Julian when he lifted his hand and called across the room.
“Capri, sit here.”
The table erupted.
“Oh, now that looks right.”
“Mr. Locke never asks anybody to sit next to him.”
“Capri, you better watch out. People are going to start talking.”
They were already talking.
My phone vibrated beneath the tablecloth as our department group chat filled with messages.
They look ridiculously good together.
I’m calling it now. He likes her.
Has Julian Locke ever personally saved a seat for anyone?
Capri Lee laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was my best friend, or at least I had called her that for nearly ten years. She had joined Locke Logistics three months earlier after telling me she hated hearing that I was always left out at work.
“I’m coming to keep you company,” she had said.
Now she slipped into the chair beside Julian while I walked to the corner.
Nobody knew Julian and I had been together for three years.
That had been his condition from the beginning.
“We work at the same company,” he told me when we started dating. “If people know, they’ll question every promotion you get. They’ll say you slept your way into it.”
At the time, it sounded protective.
So I agreed.
Three years later, I was still an analyst.
Capri had been at the company twelve weeks.
During dinner, a waiter accidentally tipped a hot serving dish against my hand.
I gasped.
The skin across my thumb reddened instantly.
Julian looked up.
For half a second, I thought he might forget himself.
Then Capri coughed after taking a sip of wine.
He turned toward her.
“Too strong?”
“I’m fine.”
He took the glass from her anyway and waved a server over.
“Bring her water.”
I went to the restroom alone.
Under cold running water, the burn throbbed.
My phone buzzed.
Capri.
Susie, don’t overthink the group chat. They just like teasing us. You know how people are.
I typed:
I know.
Another message arrived.
Julian.
I only asked her to sit beside me because putting you there would make people suspicious. Don’t make this bigger than it is.
I stared at those words until the screen dimmed.
Don’t make this bigger than it is.
For three years, everything that hurt me had been something I was making too big.
The day he gave away the matching coffee mug I bought him because coworkers noticed it looked like mine.
The Christmas party where he switched elevator cars when I stepped in.
The afternoon I fainted after skipping lunch and he walked past me to help Capri because, as he later explained, “You have me. She doesn’t have anybody.”
The promotion I had been recommended for twice and mysteriously never received.
The dinners where he looked through me.
The conferences where he introduced me like a stranger.
The apartment where we lived together but kept separate closets near the front door so unexpected visitors would never guess.
Maybe I had spent three years making something too big.
Not the pain.
The relationship.
I dried my hands.
Then, with surprising calm, I opened the company HR portal and submitted my resignation.
After dinner, a storm warning flashed across everyone’s phones.
One of our coworkers nudged Capri toward Julian.
“Mr. Locke, rideshares are impossible tonight. Could you take Capri home?”
Julian nodded.
“Sure. I’m headed toward Harbor District anyway. Anyone else going that direction?”
He looked straight at me.
Three years earlier, a man had followed me from a subway stop after work. Since then, Julian had always driven me home on late nights.
I opened my mouth.
“I’m—”
A coworker stepped between us.
“I can take Suzanne.”
Julian hesitated.
Then he nodded.
“Thanks.”
He drove away with Capri.
Ten minutes later, the coworker who had volunteered to take me home frowned when I gave him my address.
“You live in Harbor District?”
“Yes.”
“That’s forty minutes in the opposite direction from me.”
He glanced toward the rain.
“Could you get a cab instead?”
I opened the rideshare app.
Estimated wait: fifty-three minutes.
“Sure.”
He looked relieved.
“Thanks for understanding.”
By the time I reached home, it was almost two in the morning.
The penthouse lights were on.
Julian stood from the couch.
“Where were you?”
“Waiting for a car.”
His forehead creased.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going my way? I could’ve driven you.”
I stared at him.
Had he honestly not heard me trying to answer?
Had he not seen a coworker physically step in front of me?
Maybe he had seen it and simply found it convenient not to notice.
“I forgot,” I said.
Then I noticed his pajamas.
Dark blue silk.
My heart gave one foolish little leap.
Months earlier, I had bought us matching sets. Julian refused to wear his.
“Couple costumes are ridiculous.”
I had left mine folded in the closet.
Now he was wearing his.
“You said you hated those.”
He looked down.
Before he could answer, Capri walked out of our bathroom.
She wore the matching women’s set.
My set.
Capri grinned.
“I made him try them on. I wanted to see how this brand fits before ordering one for myself.”
Something inside me went perfectly still.
She tugged at the sleeve.
“Actually, these are cute. Shame I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Julian shrugged.
“Take them.”
Capri blinked.
“Seriously?”
“They’re just sitting around.”
He glanced toward me.
“Suzanne never wears hers.”
I lowered my eyes.
He was right.
I had never worn them.
There was no point in wearing matching pajamas by myself.
“Take them,” I said.
Capri hugged the folded top against her chest.
“You’re the best.”
Then she smiled.
“Do you mind if I stay here tonight? The storm is awful, and I hate being alone.”
I walked toward the bedroom.
“Do whatever you want.”
Julian followed me later.
In the darkness, he said, “You’re quiet.”
“I’m tired.”
“You used to get upset when I gave away matching stuff.”
I turned my back to him.
When we first started dating, I bought matching umbrellas, slippers, coffee cups, pens, even keychains.
Julian gave his half of nearly everything away.
Once, coworkers noticed that a mug he’d raffled off matched mine. For weeks they teased me about being obsessed with our managing director.
I had gone home humiliated.
Julian took me downstairs to his private wine cellar and showed me hundreds of bottles.
Every one had been produced the year I was born.
“I’m saving them for our wedding,” he whispered.
I believed him.
I told myself his love was simply hidden in places other people couldn’t see.
That night, staring into the darkness, I finally understood something painfully simple.
Love could be quiet.
But it should not make you invisible.
