Chapter 4

I shoved Quinton away and said dryly, "Wow. Guess I came home at a bad time."

Andrea smiled right on cue.

"No, you're not interrupting anything. I just stopped by to help Quinton out. Please don't get the wrong idea."

In the entire company, Andrea was the only person who knew that Quinton and I were married.

He shared everything with her without hesitation. And yet, this was the first time I had learned he even knew how to cook.

For seven years, the kitchen had always been my domain.

He knew perfectly well that after I damaged my stomach from endless business dinners, even the smell of hot oil made me nauseous. Still, he would act sweet and say he loved my cooking, and I would go along with it, making three meals a day.

It never once crossed my mind that he could cook at all, let alone cook this well.

Andrea, fully aware of my stomach condition, spoke with exaggerated concern, "These peppers are from my hometown. They're really spicy. Why aren't you sitting down to eat? Are you avoiding it because you don't like me?"

I didn't move or even look at her. My eyes stayed on Quinton.

"Stop beating around the bush. Just say what you want," I said.

Quinton finished washing his hands, reached into his pocket, and placed a train ticket into my palm.

"About the post earlier, that was on me. I shouldn't have reassigned your clients to Andrea without asking. She said she wants to build things on her own."

He paused, then continued, "Tonight's dinner is a send-off. I booked you a ticket for tomorrow night. Once you're back, we'll go public. I'll make sure the whole country hears about it."

Before I could respond, Andrea lifted her glass toward me.

"Lisa, thank you for letting me use your room. I'll make sure the house is well taken care of."

Quinton quickly added, a hint of unease in his voice, "Andrea's apartment lease just ended. Your room was empty anyway, so it made sense for her to stay there temporarily."

I worked late so often, and Quinton claimed he found it hard to sleep when we shared a bed, so I volunteered to move into the guest room.

Over time, the guest room simply became my room.

I had been to Andrea's place before. It was a two-bedroom apartment, about 650 square feet.

Back then, Quinton and I had squeezed into a windowless basement. The space was so cramped that we could barely stretch out, yet we endured it together.

Love, it seemed, always came with a sense of owing something. To make room for her, he didn't want me staying even a moment longer.

The ticket showed that it was a 43-hour trip on a hard seat. He hadn't spared a single thought for whether I would survive the trip.

I tore it in half and looked at him coolly.

"Are you incapable of understanding plain English? I already resigned. I'm not going to Northreach."

Andrea acted as if she hadn't heard me. She turned, disappeared into the bedroom, and reemerged dragging a suitcase nearly as tall as her waist.

"Lisa, I've already packed your things. If you need anything once you're there, just tell me. I'll prepare it for you."

Quinton's expression softened. He draped an arm around my shoulders and said gently, "Come on. You know I'd never really let you suffer. Just stay in Northreach for a couple of days. I'll find an excuse to bring you back."

That was always his pattern. Hurt first and soothe later.

I used to give in for love. Now, I just felt exhausted.

I played along, took the suitcase, and unzipped it.

Inside lay a shredded down jacket, feathers spilling across the floor.

Exactly as I had expected.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

"So this is what you packed for me?"

Quinton looked momentarily startled, but still rushed to her defense.

"She didn't mean it. It's already kind of her to help at all. You can teach her slowly. Why are you being so hard on her?"

I almost laughed out loud. Andrea was 29, just a year younger than me. Why did he make it sound like she was still a kid?

Andrea's eyes filled instantly. She bowed and apologized in a trembling voice.

"I'm really sorry. I did too much farm work growing up, so my hands are rough. I ruined your clothes. How much was it? I'll pay you back, okay?"