Chapter twenty-two
Arthur
Janet's retirement party hums along with the low, steady comfort of a place where everyone knows their role.
The restaurant is exactly what I expect it to be. Familiar faces. Familiar rhythms.
I do well in rooms like this. I know where to stand, when to speak, how long to stay.
I arrive early out of habit. Congratulate Janet. Shake hands. Make polite remarks about longevity and legacy. This is a closed chapter, and everyone seems content to acknowledge it as such.
Then Lindsay walks in.
She isn't trying to make an impression. That's the first thing I notice. She looks like herself—comfortable, composed, unguarded in a way she never had the luxury of being when she worked for me. The ring on her hand catches the light when she lifts it to wave at someone across the room.
People notice.
I tell myself it's inevitable. She was well-liked here. Respected. But the warmth in the greetings she receives is sharper than I expect, more immediate. As if she never left.
Mark from accounting approaches her first, grinning. Sarah from legal follows close behind.
They cluster around her like she's magnetic north, and she responds with the same open warmth I've watched her offer Henry. Easy. Genuine.
Someone's eyes flick from her hand to mine.
"Well," a voice says lightly, "I always thought there might be something there."
It's meant as a joke. It's followed by soft laughter, nods, the indulgence of hindsight.
I correct it immediately.
Too quickly.
"No," I say. Calm. Even. "Nothing of the sort."
The words come automatically, deployed like a firewall against speculation.
I explain it cleanly. Unexpected circumstances. Timing.
"Professional boundaries were maintained at all times."
I say the words I've said before, the ones that align with policy.
The problem is that even as they leave my mouth, I'm aware of how much they sound like a lie.
"Of course," someone says agreeably. "Just surprising, that's all."
"We'd never met socially before. The arrangement was facilitated through a third party. Everything was handled appropriately."
The words pile up. Each one technically accurate.
Each one unnecessary.
Across the room, Lindsay is talking with Janet, laughing at something I can't hear.
She watches me flail in this social situation.
But she doesn't contradict me. She doesn't look uncomfortable. She doesn't look anything at all except… at ease.
