Page 90 of The Secretary Volume II

Push my chair back.

Stand.

“I just remembered—I hate eggs.”

And then I walk out.

51

Lena

Igo home first.

Shower.Change.Rinse the scent of his house out of my hair—citrus, starch, and a kind of sadness that sticks like strategy.

I try not to think about the way I left.Or the way Quinn looked at me.Or the way Sue saidthat’s marriagelike it was a punchline with no survivors.

I don’t know what I was expecting.But it wasn’tthat.

By the time I get to the office, I look how I’m supposed to look—put together, clear-eyed, a little late but not late enough to raise eyebrows.

Stewy’s in the break room, sleeves rolled, tie crooked, hovering over someone else’s muffin like it owes him rent.

He grins when he sees me.“Look who’s still gainfully employed.”

I fake a smile.“Barely.”

“Rumor is you survived dinner.I’ll admit, I bet my intern you’d cry or quit or both.She owes me a foot rub now.”

“Charming.”

“Don’t be jealous.She has excellent thumbs.”

“Good to know.”

He flashes a smug smile.“So?What’s the verdict?”

“I didn’t peg you for a gossip.”I lie.

“I eat gossip for breakfast.”

“Along with other people’s muffins.”

I grab a cup, pour coffee I desperately need.“Did you know he’s married?”

That gets a pause.Just a flicker.Then Stewy shrugs.“Depends how you define marriage.”

“I define it as having breakfast with hiswife.”

Stewy pauses mid-chew.“Ah.So you met Quinn.”

“She’s not well.”

“No one in that house is, sweetheart.”

He says it flat.No wink, no punchline.Just dead air and muffin crumbs.

I wait.

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