Chapter 2

Blaire Dalton joined my project team on her first day in the department.

At the time, we were competing for the company's largest account of the year. Another division was chasing it too. Whoever won the contract would have the strongest shot at a promotion by December.

I had chosen Blaire from a shortlist HR sent me.

During the interview, everyone else talked about credentials. Blaire walked to the whiteboard and listed every weakness in our last proposal.

After the meeting, she followed me to the elevators to apologize for being too blunt.

"I need someone who is willing to tell me the truth," I said.

She looked up at me, her eyes bright.

"Then I guess I picked the right boss."

No one had looked at me that way in a long time.

To Maren, I was the man who forgot to take out the trash, snapped when his stomach hurt, and broke promises he had made to her.

To Blaire, I was calm and decisive, the man who always knew what to do.

I later realized that Blaire was not the only thing I had fallen for.

I was even more addicted to the flawless version of myself I saw in her eyes.

She was smart and quick. She could predict my next point before I finished the first.

We worked together past midnight to meet deadlines. We ate cold takeout in an empty office. Outside client meetings, one glance was sometimes enough for us to revise an entire pitch at the last minute.

I loved that kind of connection.

At home, Maren asked why I refused to take medicine for my stomach. She asked when I planned to keep my promise about our trip.

Blaire never asked me to change.

She would simply set a hot latte on my desk and say, "One look at Mr. Mercer today, and I knew an iced Americano would be a bad idea."

She asked nothing from me. She only made me feel understood.

The first time our team worked all night, Maren woke at five thirty and packed two homemade lunches for us. She brought them to the office herself.

I was in a meeting, so I told reception to put them in the refrigerator.

By the time I came out, Blaire had ordered barbecue for the entire team.

She put an extra order of brisket in front of me and smiled.

"You did the most, Mr. Mercer. You get the biggest serving."

Everyone laughed and ate together that night.

Maren's lunches sat in the refrigerator for two days before the cleaning staff threw them away.

When she asked about them, I said I had been too busy and forgotten.

She only said she would not make them again.

Yet when Blaire told me, "I remembered brisket is your favorite," I decided she was more thoughtful than Maren.

I forgot that Blaire's act of remembering required one extra click on an order form.

Maren's had required getting out of bed before sunrise.

At a team retreat, Nolan Price watched Blaire and me check an order together and laughed.

"Blaire isn't the project manager. She's Julian's work wife."

The whole table laughed.

Blaire laughed too. She tapped her wineglass against mine.

"Mr. Mercer, is your real wife going to be jealous?"

"Maren isn't that petty," I said.

At the time, I thought I was expressing faith in my wife.

Looking back, I can see that it was the first time I surrendered one of her boundaries in public, without her even knowing it existed.

When I got home that night, Maren took my coat.

My phone lit up at the same moment. Blaire's message appeared on the lock screen.

"Work husband, text me when you get home safe."

Maren's hand froze on my collar.