Page 26 of His Secret

The first twoweeks of Adrian working here goes well enough. We’ve kept communication via email or quick and concise sentences when discussing the project he’s heading. Gina O’Terry is qualified enough to answer most questions he should have, but when I have to communicate a problem with the team, I go to him—via email.

Everyone on the floor seems to love him. He’s still more extroverted than me, and everyone is always laughing while talking to him.

Sometimes, I want to be in on it. I want to know what story he’s telling, or see his face when he laughs. Do his eyes still close every time? Does his head still fall back like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard? Does he still ask ridiculous icebreaker questions likewhat flavor ice cream would you be?I want to know in what ways he’s changed and in what ways he’s still the same.

But then I go home, and I see him and his wife outside, working on the garden. I watch as he drapes an arm around her shoulder as they inspect their work. I hear the way she laughs at whatever he has to say, and I realize I’ll never be theone listening to his stories—or be a part of his life in any other way besides as his boss. I won’t know any new things about him, but what I do have is that I’ll be the only one who knows the real him. I know his secrets. I know more than she’ll ever know, and somehow that balances things.

On week three, I’m told by the VP of project management that I, as well as a few other project managers, need to make a trip to Grand Rapids, which is about three and a half hours from South River. We’ll act as representatives of Galaxy Moon Studios and meet with our outsourcing partner to check on the execution of our projects and determine if there are any challenges.

The meeting itself isn’t a new concept. I’ve traveled often enough to work with our counterparts and clients, but now Adrian works with us, and that means he travels with us as well.

Anytime I have to travel within driving distance, I travel alone. Everyone knows that. I don’t want to sit in a car for hours, making conversation. So, when I’ve gathered everyone in my office to inform them of the plan of business, both Andrea Livingstone and Drew Chavez decide to ride together. They’ve been friends for quite a while, so it makes sense. After they leave, Adrian lingers.

“Does that mean we’re riding together?”

“We both have our own vehicles, right?”

He scratches the back of his neck, his head tilted to the side, and I’m suddenly back in college, watching him do the same exact move whenever he has to say something and he’s nervous about how the other person will take it.

“Well, I only have one right now, and…and my wife is using it today. We sold our other?—”

“Okay, fine,” I say, cutting him off. “Let’s go.”

I grab everything I need and leave the office.The journey to the parking garage is long and silent. I hit the button on my key fob to unlock my silver Lexus, and after putting my briefcase in the back, I climb into the driver seat as Adrian settles into the passenger side.

It’s not until I’ve been driving for twenty minutes that Adrian finally breaks the silence.

“I can’t sit in this car with you for four hours and not speak at all.”

“Do you want to go over what we’ll be discussing at the meeting?”

He makes a small noise in his throat. “I’m aware of why we’re going. I read the email and listened to your speech.”

“Do you have any questions about work in general?”

“Matías.”

I glance over at him and my heart squeezes, so I look back at the road.

“The only other conversations we could have would include us reminiscing about the past. It’s not really something I want to relive.”

With a subtle sigh, he looks out the window. Maybe it’s ridiculous to be upset over something that happened so long ago, but it’s not an easy thing to get over. Not when it shaped who I am and how I approach relationships. But also, how do we talk about it? How do we talk aboutuswithout stepping over a line that shouldn’t be crossed? Because the truth is, no matter how much my heart still hurts over what happened, it would be easy to jump back in. Just to have a taste of what it used to be like. To remember how good it was between us. But he’s married.

“What do you do when you’re not at work?” he asks, shifting in his seat to look at me.

My eyes flicker over. “Really?”

“It’s not about the past,” he says with a smallshrug.

“When time allows, I’ll take a canoe to Lake Renap. Maybe jog the trail around there.”

“Outdoorsy stuff. I take it you’re still not big on being around a lot of people then.”

I inhale through my nose, my chest expanding. “No, still not a fan of people.”

He chuckles. “That’s not what I meant, but okay.”

“I’m around people for work because it’s necessary, but I choose not to spend my free time at bars or clubs if that’s what you mean. I prefer solitude.”

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