PlotlumeAfter seven years of dating in secret, my boyfriend, Trevor Ashford, set me up on a blind date himself—to keep anyone at work from suspecting our relationship.
My date was a programmer who shared a rental out past the I-294 tollway and rode bike-share bikes every day.
I thought Trevor was only putting on a show for our colleagues. I was still worrying about how much pressure he was under at work.
Then, in the café beneath our office, I overheard him in a private booth, fawning over the new female director as he took credit for his arrangement.
“Don't worry. I've fobbed her off on that programmer. She can't even finish her workload. How would she have the energy to pester me?”
“When we get engaged next month, there definitely won't be anyone making a scene.”
The director giggled, praising his efficiency—and his ruthlessness.
I stood rooted to the spot, finally realizing that seven years of quiet devotion had been a joke.
Back at my desk, I unpinned his chat and deleted every message we had exchanged over those seven years.
Then I opened the chat with the blind date I had politely turned down yesterday and sent him a message.
“Yesterday you said we could register our marriage anytime, as long as I was willing. Does that offer still stand?”
1
“How was your date? Decent fellow, isn't he?” Trevor came to my desk carrying a glass of warm water.
He set it beside my hand and reached to ruffle my hair, as he always did.
I tilted my head slightly, avoiding his hand.
His hand froze in midair for an instant. Then he withdrew it casually and slipped it into his trouser pocket.
“Still upset about yesterday?” He lowered his voice, his tone as indulgent as ever.
“No.” I kept my eyes on the report on my screen, my voice level.
“I knew my Em would understand.” Trevor pulled up a chair and sat beside me.
“The company's cracking down on office romances, and the new director, Vera Underwood, won't tolerate anything improper.”
“I only sent you on that date to put on a show for the people upstairs.”
“Once this blows over, I'll tell the company about us.”
He looked at me with eyes so earnest you could almost drown in them.
If I hadn't heard him in the café half an hour earlier, I probably would have felt sorry for him again, as I had for seven years, enduring all this for our future.
“Just go through the motions with that programmer.”
“I checked his profile. He shares a place out past the I-294 tollway and doesn't even own a car.”
“How could someone like that be good enough for you?” Trevor chuckled, brimming with superiority.
I took my hand off the mouse.
“He's nice,” I said.
Trevor blinked. “What did you say?”
“I said he's nice.” I turned and met his eyes. “Honest. Reliable. Someone you could marry.”
Trevor's face darkened.
“Stop it, Emily.”
“I know this hasn't been fair to you, so I've secured something to make it up to you.”
He took a transfer order from his folder and pushed it toward me.
“Marketing supervisor for Atlanta region. There'll be travel, but it's a promotion of one grade.”
“Hand over your core project and report there next week.”
I stared at the transfer order, feeling as though a blunt knife were slowly sawing my heart apart.
The Atlanta office was a disaster. Going there was exile.
And the core project I was working on was something I had won through six months of sleepless nights.
He wasn't compensating me. He was pushing me out of the company's inner circle entirely to make room for his new fiancée.
“Who am I handing it over to?” I asked.
“The new director, Vera,” Trevor said matter-of-factly.
“She needs a major project to establish herself. Helping her helps me.”
He stripped me of my work as though it were his right, even expecting me to feel honored.
I looked at his familiar face. Suddenly, he seemed utterly alien.
For seven years, I had been with him as he moved from a basement room to an apartment, from intern to department manager.
I thought we had been fighting side by side.
All along, he had only been using me to build his kingdom. Now that it was built, he wanted to marry his true princess.
“All right.” I picked up a pen and signed the order.
Trevor breathed a sigh of relief, his gentle smile returning.
“I knew you'd see the bigger picture.”
“What would you like tonight? I've booked your favorite Japanese restaurant.”
“No, thanks.” I handed him the order. “I'm having dinner with my blind date tonight.”
Trevor frowned. “Emily, you don't have to take the act that far. There's no need to actually see that penniless programmer.”
“Mr. Ashford, we're at work. Please consider how this looks.” I pointed toward the colleagues watching nearby.
His expression shifted. He stood and straightened his jacket.
“Fine. Just be careful. If that broke kid tries anything, call me.”
He walked away, his back as straight and confident as ever.
He was certain I was only sulking.