Chapter 10
Phone buzzed on kitchen counter before coffee finished brewing.
I stared at screen. Name showed Landon Price. Subject line read Portfolio Notes - Timestamped. Thumb hovered. Apartment air felt thick, AC humming, sunlight cutting across laminate floor in sharp white line. Graham stood at sink, back to me, rinsing whiskey tumbler from night before. He didn't turn.
I opened email.
Timestamp at top read December 12, 8:47 PM. Same night as booth. Same night Graham placed gold wedding band on black marble table and held palm out.
Body held three attachments. First was PDF mockups with my comments in margin. Second was calendar invite forwarded: Central Avenue nightclub booth reserved for portfolio review, sent two weeks prior, Maya CC'd. Third was Landon's message, short, plain.
Celeste —
Attached notes from that night per your request. Time-stamped draft saved at 8:47 PM before we were interrupted, plus final version with Maya's feedback at 9:30 PM. Wanted documentation clear: we met for work. Nothing more.
Going forward I won't meet outside office again. Not because we did anything wrong. Because optics misread easily and I don't want to cause trouble for you at home or at work. Happy to keep reviews to conference room, daytime only. Let me know if you need anything else for records.
Landon
I read it twice. Breath caught. Cold spread through chest, then steadied.
Graham set tumbler down hard. Glass clinked against steel sink.
"Who's that," he said.
"Landon," I said. "He sent notes."
Graham turned. Tattooed left arm flexed, gold watch catching light. Face stern, jaw tight.
"Read it," I said. Extended phone palm up.
He wiped hands on towel, took phone. Eyes scanned. Scroll. Pause on timestamp. Scroll again. He read Landon's boundary line twice. Lips pressed.
He handed phone back.
"So he made PDF," he said. "Doesn't prove nothing."
"Timestamp proves work purpose," I said. "Invite proves booth reserved for portfolio review weeks ago. Maya CC'd proves not hideout."
He leaned against counter. Crossed arms.
"He says he won't meet outside office again," I said. "He set boundary himself."
Graham snorted. "Convenient. Cover his ass after getting caught."
"He didn't get caught doing anything," I said. Voice low, steady. "He documented work because you accused us. He removed himself to protect me."
Silence stretched. Fridge hummed. Traffic hissed outside on Central Avenue, faint.
Graham looked toward window, then back.
"Man don't send late-night notes to married woman if innocent," he said.
"He sent timestamped work file at 8:47 PM," I said. "Before you walked up. Before you said take it off. That timing matters."
Graham's shoulders dropped fraction. He didn't have answer. He stared at gold wedding band still on dresser from night before — he hadn't put it back on.
"Showed up with Maya there," I said. "Same booth invite. You saw her. Burgundy dress. Hands in lap. Looking down because you scared her."
He exhaled through nose.
"Fine," he said finally. "Maybe you weren't sleeping with him."
Words landed heavy. First time he let affair claim go. No apology inside it, only retreat.
"Maybe," I repeated.
He pushed off counter. "Still lied. Said you were with girls."
"I did lie about location," I said. "That part true. I wanted night without check-ins. Without asking permission to talk about work. That's what we still need to fix. Not affair story."
He picked up phone again, reread last line of Landon email.
"Workplace boundary," he muttered.
"His words," I said. "Not mine. He won't meet outside office again. That request closes outside-work issue. Leaves us with real issue."
Graham set phone down. Didn't look at me.
"Real issue you tracked my phone," I said. "Real issue you used Grandmother's ring as leash."
He flinched. Didn't deny.
I saved email to folder labeled Documentation, forwarded copy to myself. Screenshot timestamp. Felt ground shift. For weeks his narrative — you said you were with girls, therefore affair — held weight. Now timestamped file, invite, third witness broke it.
Affair accusation deflated. What remained was smaller, sharper, harder to hide: lie and control, trust and tracking.
Graham walked to bedroom, stopped at doorway.
"Keep email," he said. Quiet.
"I kept it," I said.
May you like
He nodded once. Didn't say sorry. Didn't need to. Loss showed in posture, in hand flexing where wedding band used to sit.
I stayed at counter, coffee gone cold, phone screen still glowing with Landon's line: I don't want to cause trouble for you at home.
