Chapter 2

Alex came home at 7:30 that evening.

I had already eaten dinner and was sitting in the living room reviewing documents for the foundation's upcoming exhibition.

The moment he walked in, he looked at the dining table.

"You already ate?"

"Yeah."

Maybe my answer sounded colder than usual, because he walked over and sat beside me.

"Still upset?"

"No."

"Evie."

"I'm just reading the foundation materials."

He reached over and closed the folder on my lap.

"Yesterday was my fault."

I looked at him.

"I saw the photos."

He immediately understood what I meant.

"Last night I told you. The project meeting ended, but the team decided to celebrate afterward."

"So everyone had to stay that late?"

"The deal had just closed. Everyone was there. If I left immediately, it wouldn't have looked right."

"And Claire had to stay with all of you too?"

Alex frowned.

"Why is it always Claire?"

"Because she was the only woman there. I don't understand why she needed to stay that late with everyone. And she was wearing your jacket."

"She was cold."

He said it naturally.

"I lent her my jacket. That's all."

I didn't answer.

"Evie, she's my secretary." He leaned back against the sofa. "We've been working fifteen-hour days lately. If you're upset because of one photo—"

The doorbell rang.

Alex glanced at the time, suddenly remembering something.

"That should be Claire."

I looked at him.

"Claire?"

"I asked her to bring over some documents. There's a contract that needs to be signed tonight. Legal needs it tomorrow morning."

He was already standing.

I stayed where I was and watched him walk toward the door.

When it opened, Claire was standing outside.

She wore a light-colored coat, her hair loosely tied back, a document folder held against her chest.

"Sorry to bother you at home."

"It's fine. Come in."

Alex stepped aside to let her enter.

The moment Claire saw me, she paused.

"Mrs. Whitmore."

"Claire."

"I'm sorry for coming so late."

"Alex asked you to come." I stood up. "You don't need to apologize for work."

She smiled slightly and handed the documents to Alex.

Alex didn't open them immediately. He simply placed them on the coffee table.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

"No, thank you. I'll leave right away."

"At least have some coffee."

"Really, I don't need—"

"I could use one too."

Alex had already sat down and started reviewing the documents.

I walked into the kitchen.

"Alex, yours is still black coffee?"

"Actually, don't."

Claire's voice came from behind me.

I turned around.

She seemed to realize she had interrupted and quickly smiled.

"Sorry. He's been having stomach issues lately."

I looked at Alex.

"Your stomach?"

He was still looking at the contract.

"It's nothing."

"How long?"

"Just recently."

Claire stood there and explained naturally.

"He had stomach pain during a few meetings, so I changed the coffee in his office to decaf. The doctor also suggested he cut back."

My fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

"You went to the doctor?"

This time, Alex finally looked up.

"The clinic downstairs from the company. It's just acid reflux. Nothing serious."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it really wasn't a big deal."

Then he lowered his head and continued reading.

Claire stayed silent.

But I noticed she glanced at me.

Quickly.

So quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it.

I placed the coffee in front of Alex.

He took one sip.

Immediately, his eyebrows tightened.

"Is this regular?"

"Yeah."

Claire instinctively said,

"You already had three cups today."

Alex looked at her.

"Claire."

She immediately stopped.

"Sorry."

Her embarrassment looked genuine.

I picked up the coffee cup from in front of Alex.

"I'll make you another one."

"No need."

"Your stomach hurts."

"Evie—"

"If the doctor said so, you should cut back."

I opened the cabinet beside the coffee machine.

There was no decaf.

I searched through everything.

Nothing.

In the end, I could only pour him a glass of water.

After Alex finished signing the documents, Claire didn't stay.

She picked up the folder, thanked me, and walked toward the door.

"Claire."

She turned around.

I handed her Alex's jacket.

The same one from the photos.

He had casually left it by the entrance that morning.

Claire froze.

"This isn't—"

"You wore it yesterday."

She glanced at Alex.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She took it.

Then, almost immediately, handed it back to Alex.

"It's not cold anymore."

After the door closed, Alex hung the jacket back on the rack as if nothing had happened.

"Don't overthink it."

I looked at him.

"I haven't said anything."

Alex was silent for a moment.

Then he picked up the glass of water.

That night, while he was showering, I stood in the kitchen and took out every box of coffee from the cabinet.

Espresso.

Dark roast.

The Colombian beans he always drank.

There wasn't a single box of decaf.

I didn't even know he needed it.

The next morning, I wrote one thing on my grocery list.

Decaf coffee.