2– Who Is She?

Lena heard the front door open just as she was setting her phone down.

She didn’t move from where she sat curled in the corner of the living room sofa, her legs tucked beneath her, the glow of the television casting pale light across the room. 

She had been waiting for two hours, maybe even longer. And now that Julian had returned, she didn’t know what to feel.

But one thing was certain, she was nervous.

Julian appeared in the doorway, jacket slung over one arm, tie loosened.

“You’re still up,” he said.

“You’re just getting home,” she replied, her voice harsher than she intended.

Julian moved to the bar cart and poured himself a drink without looking at her. “I had a late meeting.”

Lena reached for her phone from the cushion beside her. She turned the screen toward him. “Is that what they’re calling it?”

Julian turned. His eyes dropped to the screen. The headline was still pulled up, written boldly beneath a photograph that had been taken outside a restaurant downtown. 

He was with a woman, and they were close enough that the photographer hadn’t needed to stretch the implication.

Billionaire Julian Black spotted with mystery woman. Is this the infamous wife finally stepping into the spotlight?

Julian looked at it for a moment longer, maybe two. Then he looked away and took a sip of his drink. 

“Where did you find that?” he asked.

“It’s trending,” Lena said. “I didn’t have to find it. It found me.”

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s not nothing,” Lena spat.

“Lena, it’s just a photograph. You know the media twists everything,” his voice carried a particular flatness that meant he had already decided this conversation wasn’t worth his full attention. 

“Who is she?” Lena asked.

“A business associate.”

“You take all your business associates to dinner at expensive restaurants meant for couples?”

“Restaurants are meant for eating, Lena. And yes, I took my associate to dinner,” Julian ground out.

“This is insane… I cannot believe this…” Lena chuckled, though there was no humor in it.

Julian set his glass down. “I don’t see what’s so insane about me having dinner with an associate, Lena. What exactly are you asking me?”

“I just told you what I’m asking you,” Lena said. “Who is she?”

“And I just told you she’s a business associate. That’s all,” Julian replied.

“Then why does she have her hand on your arm?”

“Lena—”

“In the second photograph,” Lena cut him off, swiping the screen once and holding it up again. “Her hand is on your arm and you’re leaning toward her. That’s not a business dinner, Julian. I’ve seen pictures of you at business dinners. You don’t lean towards people, especially women.”

Julian’s expression shifted imperceptibly, though Lena caught it. He showed irritation over the topic, irritation about being cornered by his wife, who for the first time is pushing back.

“You’re reading into a photograph taken by someone who had no context,” he said. “This is beneath you.”

“Beneath me,” Lena repeated, incredulous.

“Yes,” Julian affirmed and picked his glass back up. “You’re sitting here in the dark working yourself up over a tabloid. That’s beneath you.”

Lena stared at him. “I’ve been calling you since nine.”

“I was in a meeting.”

“For three hours.”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn’t answer once? You couldn’t send a single message to say you’d be late?” Her brows drew into a furrow.

Julian exhaled a slow, calming breath. “I was occupied, Lena. I don’t check my phone in meetings. You know this.”

“I know that you check your phone constantly,” she countered, her voice loudening despite her attempt to keep it tame. “I know that you have never once sat through any meeting without checking your phone because you told me yourself that you can’t stand the feeling of missing something important.” 

“Lena—”

She put her hand up, stopping him from speaking and continued, “so either the meeting wasn’t a meeting, or I’m just not important enough to warrant a glance at your screen. Which one is it, Julian?”

The room was very quiet.

Julian looked at her for a moment. Then he set his glass down again, this time with slow deliberateness while his mind ran in circles, attempting to find the right words to give him an escape from the confrontation.

“I don’t know what you want from me right now,” he shook his head.

“I want to know who she is,” Lena insisted.

“I told you who she is,” Julian stood his ground.

“You told me what she is,” Lena said. “I asked who.”

Julian chuckled, wildly throwing his head around. “That’s the same question.”

“It really isn’t,” she retorted.

Julian’s jaw tightened just slightly. “Her name isn’t relevant.”

“It is to me,” Lena demanded.

“Why?” Julian asked, and the word came out almost curious, as though the idea that Lena might have a reason to care was something that genuinely puzzled him.

Lena felt her chest stumble over beats at that. “Because you’re my husband,” she murmured, “and your face is on every entertainment page tonight next to a woman I don’t recognize. They’re calling her your wife… and you’ve been unreachable all evening, and I think that is a reasonable thing to want to know.”

Julian dragged a hand through his hair. Roughly. “You’re being paranoid.”

“I’m being paranoid,” Lena repeated, an incredulous chuckle leaving her.

“Yes, Lena. It’s only paranoia that would make you see one photograph and decide to build an entire narrative around it.”

“It’s not just one photograph, Julian, and I did not build the narrative!” Lena yelled before she could stop herself.

Silence.

Julian stared at her with anger in his eyes. Or perhaps he had found a reason to escape the conversation.

Their one rule in the marriage had always been never to raise their voices. And she just broke it.

He picked up his jacket from where he’d draped it over the armchair. “I’m going to shower.”

“Julian—”

“We’re done talking about this, Lena,” he dismissed.

“Very original of you to walk away from a conversation!” Lena yelled after his back.

“What else is there to say?” Julian growled. “You’ve asked and I have answered!”

“But I’m not satisfied with the answer you gave!” Lena yelled back. “And I haven’t said everything I want to say!”

Julian stopped by the foot of the stairs and turned back, and the look on his face was patient in a way that wasn’t kind. 

“If you have something to say, Lena, then say it. But make sure you’re not screaming down my roof,” he muttered.

“Where did it go?” Lena weakly breathed.

Julian quirked a brow. “What?”

All that passion from last night: Lena wanted to say.

But she opened her mouth and somehow, standing under the weight of Julian’s gaze, the words seemed to stall. 

She wanted to pour her heart out. She knew she did. But the way Julian was looking at her, like she was making something out of nothing, like she was the one being unreasonable, made everything she’d prepared feel suddenly very loud and very embarrassing.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered finally.

Julian nodded once. 

“Good. Now go and get some sleep,” he said, and went up the stairs.