The CEO Who Couldn't Let Go

Being Julian's boyfriend was unexpectedly ordinary.

We argued about which side of the bed received more sunlight. We bought groceries together and debated whether the expensive olive oil was worth it. He learned to leave my sketchbooks alone; I learned not to interrupt him when he was working through a difficult calculation unless I had coffee or a particularly compelling reason.

Sometimes he kissed me in the supermarket simply because he could.

The first time, I looked around in alarm.

"What?" he asked.

"People can see us."

"I should hope so. We're standing directly in front of the oranges."

"Julian."

He studied me, then understood. His expression softened.

"I like you," he said. "I'm not going to pretend otherwise because someone might notice."

It shouldn't have been revolutionary. Somehow, it was.

I began rebuilding the parts of my life I'd neglected. Claire and I spent Saturdays visiting galleries. I submitted a personal design project to a small exhibition. I opened a savings account with money that belonged only to me. Julian celebrated every step without trying to make it about himself.

Adrian, meanwhile, began calling.

At first the messages were angry. Then bewildered. Then strangely careful.

I FOUND YOUR FAVORITE COFFEE PLACE. THEY ASKED ABOUT YOU.

I CAN SEND YOUR THINGS.

I'M SORRY ABOUT THE DINNER.

I didn't reply. Claire told me Marcus had been asking questions at the studio. Sebastian had apparently left New York again after a short visit. Noah no longer accompanied Adrian to every event. I didn't ask for details. That world was no longer mine.

One Sunday, Julian and I spent the morning making pancakes. He wore gray sweatpants and no shoes; I wore his oversized shirt. I had just stolen the last strawberry from his plate when the doorbell rang.

Julian glanced at the security screen. His smile disappeared.

"It's Adrian," he said.

My stomach tightened. "I'll talk to him."

"I'll be nearby."

I opened the door only as far as the chain allowed. Adrian stood on the steps holding a small velvet box.

"We need to settle this," he said.

"We have settled it."

"You won't answer my calls."

"That should tell you something."

He glanced over my shoulder. I knew what he saw: the warm hallway, two pairs of shoes by the stairs, me wearing someone else's shirt. His expression changed.

"You're living with him."

"I'm staying here. Yes."

"In his clothes?"

"Adrian, leave."

He caught the edge of the door before I could close it. The chain held. Julian appeared behind me a second later, calm but alert.

"Take your hand off the door," Julian said.

Adrian stared at him. "This is between Elliot and me."

"It stopped being just your decision when he asked you to leave."

I lifted the chain and stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind me so we could speak without making Julian stand guard.

"What do you want?" I asked.

Adrian opened the box. Inside was a watch far more expensive than anything I'd ever owned.

"I remembered you liked this collection."

"I liked a lot of things you never noticed."

"I notice now."

"That's not the same."

He shut the box. For a moment he looked almost young, stripped of the certainty that usually surrounded him.

"I love you," he said.

Seven years. I had wanted those words for seven years.

When they finally came, I felt sadness instead of triumph.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "But I'm with Julian."

Adrian's face went blank. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Elliot—"

"Please don't come here again."

I went inside before he could answer. Julian was waiting by the stairs, his hands open at his sides.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I crossed the hallway and wrapped my arms around him.

"I think so," I said. "I really think so."