Seven Years Wasted

When I got home, I was still carrying the dinner I'd brought back for Harrison Knight.

His schedule was always packed, so I made sure all three of his meals were ready on time, then delivered them to his office while they were still hot.

But tonight, there was no need.

Two minutes earlier, Celeste Foster had posted another update. She was at the hardest restaurant in downtown to get a reservation.

In her selfie, a man's arm appeared casually at the edge of the frame. The diamond ring on his ring finger—the matching half of mine—caught the light so brightly it almost hurt to look at.

I stared at the photo for a moment, then liked it.

Funny enough, I'd gotten Celeste's contact information through a chance business collaboration.

Later, I'd come across her social media profile and discovered that she was the ex Harrison had always refused to talk about.

I was about to put my phone down when a message from Harrison popped up.

[I'm having dinner with Celeste tonight for work. Don't read too much into it.]

I stared at the message for a long time before replying with a single word: [Okay.]

A little while later, another message came through.

[Remove that like. Don't make a spectacle of us in front of other people.]

I didn't reply again. I turned off my phone and set it aside.

The dinner on the table had gone completely cold.

Suddenly, I remembered calling Harrison two days ago while I was on a layover down south. I'd asked if there was anything local he wanted me to bring home for him.

He'd answered right away, "Whatever you think is good."

At the time, I'd taken that as proof that he trusted me completely.

Only now did I realize he'd probably just been annoyed and couldn't be bothered to give me a real answer.

An email notification appeared on my phone.

[Mrs. Knight, this partnership agreement is extremely important. Please sign it as soon as possible.]

I stared at those words for a moment and slowly exhaled.

Since Harrison no longer needed me to prepare his dinner for him, he probably didn't need this billion-dollar Westerland contract either.

The front door unlocked at midnight.

I was reviewing the divorce papers when Harrison walked in. A strong cloud of unfamiliar perfume followed him through the door.