My stomach twists.
Do I comment or stay silent? Should I be the catty wife or the elegant woman?
I choose a mix of both.
“Hi, El. All I can say is, I’m just glad the job was temporary.”
El turns to her computer. “He must have offered a hell of a contract,” she mutters.
Joe shoots El a sharp look. Someone nearby stifles a laugh.
“He’s in there, Selena. Go right on in,” Joe says quickly, trying to salvage the situation.
“She’s not even his type,” I hear someone whisper behind me.
I turn around, my hand on Griffin's door handle.
“You’re right,” I say clearly. “I’m not his type. I don’t sleep with my boss in the office, and I don’t gossip about his wife behind her back.”
I open the door and step into Griffin’s office.
“I feel like seafood for lunch, darling,” I announce as I close the door, leaning back against it. “After swimming through so many sharks.”
“Bravo.” Griffin is beaming. “I heard the whole thing. I’m firing them both after lunch.”
“Don’t. I want them to see me walk in here with a big-ass belly in a few months.” I give him a wide smile. “Besides, you need to behave like a partner in a law firm, not a tyrannical king.”
I walk over to his desk and lean forward to kiss him.
“I knew I married you for a reason.” His smile is delightful. “But I really do want to fire them.”
“I still think torture is better.” I sit in the chair across from his desk.
“Torture it is. I have two emails to send, then we’ll go. What sounds good?” He sits and starts typing.
“Sadly, nothing. Maybe soup?” I really think that’s all my stomach can take.
“I’m so glad I’m taking you to see Beckett. Soup...” Griffin thinks. “There’s an upscale deli a few blocks from here. A hoagie sounds good to me. We can both find something there.”
“Perfect.”
When he’s done, he stands up. “Ready?”
“We have to go back out there so soon?” I stand with him, suddenly nervous again.
“Watch this,” he says. He takes my hand, interlacing our fingers.
We walk out into the silent bullpen.
“Everyone.”
Oh god. He’s going to make a speech.
“You can all thank Mrs. Calloway,” he says, squeezing my hand, “for the firm approving hour-long lunches starting today. I have to confess, I’m learning work-life balance. Selena will keep me in line. And if she doesn’t, Junior certainly will. Have a nice lunch. Be back by two.”
He’s smiling. He has a pep in his step. And he just told everyone in his office I’m pregnant. Sort of.
Heat blooms in my cheeks as we walk down the aisle.
