“You made me invisible.”
She winced. “I know.”
“Why?”
She stared down into her glass. “Because I didn’t know how to explain you.”
That answer landed harder than if she’d lied.
Not because it was the worst possible thing. Because it was small. Honest. Cowardly.
“You didn’t need to explain me,” I said. “You needed to respect me.”
She nodded and cried without sound for a few seconds. I let her.
“Is this who you are now?” I asked. “Someone who slots people into whatever version makes your life easiest?”
“No.” Then quieter: “At least I don’t want to be.”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“What happened with Logan isn’t just personal anymore,” I said. “He tried to alter contracts and cut my firm out of a deal built on my infrastructure.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
I held her gaze. “That’s the man you’re marrying.”
She went still.
