Employees treated them like a married executive couple.
Clients did too.
Meanwhile, Lauren kept me away by insisting she needed strict separation between home and work.
Every boundary I had respected had been serving the lie.
“Did anyone here know about me?” I asked.
Lauren hesitated.
“A few people knew I was legally married.”
Legally.
That word did something to me.
Not husband.
Not Gerald.
Legally married.
Frank folded his arms.
“Gerald, nobody was trying to humiliate you.”
I turned toward him.
“You walked into my wife’s office every day while people called you her husband.
Don’t explain humiliation to me.”
He looked away.
Lauren reached toward my arm.
I stepped back.
“Don’t.”
Her hand fell.
For years, I had wondered why she no longer wanted me at holiday parties.
Why invitations disappeared.
Why company celebrations always seemed to be employees only.
Why photographs from business dinners rarely appeared on her phone.
Now every small absence had an explanation.
I looked at the crushed lunch bag still in my hand.
The sandwich inside was probably flattened.
For some reason, that ordinary detail nearly undid me.
I had made it that morning while Lauren was upstairs getting dressed.
I had cut it the way she liked.
She had kissed my cheek before leaving.
Then she had driven to an office where another man was known as her husband.
“I’m going home,” I said.
Lauren stepped forward.
“Gerald, please don’t leave like this.”
“How would you prefer I leave?”
“Let me explain everything.”
“You just did.”
Frank started to speak.
I raised one hand.
“Not another word from you.”
He stopped.
I walked through the glass doors and into the October afternoon.
Lauren followed me outside.
“Gerald!”
I kept walking toward my car.
She caught up near the visitor parking spaces.
“Please.
We need to talk at home.”
I turned.
“Are you coming home?”
The question seemed to surprise her.
“Of course.”
“Tonight?”
