“Afternoon, Harold. Lauren sent me for some files,” he said easily. “No problem, Mr.
Callahan. She’s in her office.” Callahan. Her vice president. A name I’d heard countless times over dinner, always framed as strictly professional.
My hands went completely numb around that coffee cup. Harold looked between the two of us, his confusion growing more visible by the second.
“I’m sorry, sir, but are you sure you’re her husband? Because Mr. Callahan here is married to her—” If you want to read the full story, type OK in the comments below See less
