Chapter 16 - Work Husband

By the following Friday Jennifer had begun to understand that office gossip had its own weather system.

Some things drifted quietly through the floor like fog.

Some things flashed suddenly like lightning.

And some things—apparently—had been hanging over everyone for months, obvious to everyone except the person who had just arrived.

That person, unfortunately, was Jennifer.

The invitation came just after lunch.

Diana leaned over the low divider between their desks and tapped a manicured nail against Jennifer’s monitor.

“You’re coming tonight.”

Jennifer looked up from David’s calendar.

“Coming where?”

“Happy hour.”

Jennifer immediately shook her head.

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“Nope,” Diana said, already walking away. “You’re coming. You’ve been here long enough to be indoctrinated.”

Alyssa from two desks over called out, “One drink, Jennifer. It’s mandatory admin bonding.”

Jennifer looked instinctively toward Michelle’s office, but Michelle wasn’t there.

She was behind a closed conference room door with David.

Again.

Jennifer could see them through the glass if she turned slightly:

David standing at the whiteboard with his sleeves rolled up, Michelle beside him holding a marker, both focused, intense, moving around each other with the kind of ease that came from too many late nights and too many shared deadlines.

Jennifer looked away quickly.

“One drink,” she said finally.

Diana grinned.

“That’s what they all say.”

—

Happy hour was louder than Jennifer expected.

The bar sat two blocks from the office and seemed built entirely out of polished wood, pendant lights, and a crowd full of office types, packs of men in suits and women in work dresses.

Jennifer sat wedged into a high-top table with Diana, Alyssa, Kimberly from accounting, Denise from HR, and two admins from legal whose names she was still trying desperately to remember.

At first, she felt wildly out of place.

She worried about everything.

Her voice.

Her posture.

Whether she was holding the wine glass correctly.

Whether her lipstick had faded unevenly.

Whether anyone noticed how carefully she crossed her legs at the knee beneath the table.

But within twenty minutes, the conversation pulled her in despite herself.

The women talked fast.

Work disasters.

Reality shows.

Bad dates.

Hair appointments.

Stupid things their husbands did.

Jennifer mostly listened at first, laughing when everyone else laughed, nodding when the conversation moved too quickly.

Then Alyssa pointed at her wine glass.

“Okay, Jennifer, important question.”

Jennifer immediately tensed.

“What?”

“Real Housewives of Beverly Hills or New Jersey?”

Jennifer blinked.

“I… recently became familiar with Beverly Hills.”

Diana gasped.

“Recently?”

Jennifer smiled nervously.

“I’m catching up.”

“Oh honey,” Denise said, patting her hand. “We’ll fix that.”

And somehow, Jennifer laughed.

Not politely.

Really laughed.

Kimberly suddenly looked up from her drink.

“Oh my God, we never added Jennifer to the group chat.”

Denise immediately grabbed her phone.

“Absolutely not. Fixing that right now.”

Within seconds Jennifer’s phone went off with a notification and a text that read “Invite to join Boss Babes”, which she immediately accepted.

“Boss Babes?” she asked.

“Well we really run the office” Diana responded.

Jennifer had just started relaxing enough to stop overthinking how she held her wine glass when Alyssa suddenly looked over Jennifer’s shoulder and grinned.

“Oh no.”

Jennifer blinked.

“What?”

Diana was already laughing.

“You’re about to experience Midtown finance guys.”

Jennifer turned slightly just as the bartender approached carrying another round of drinks.

“We didn’t order these,” Denise said immediately.

The bartender nodded toward the far side of the bar.

“The gentlemen over there sent them.”

Instinctively, all the women turned.

A group of men in suits sitting near the windows lifted their glasses casually.

One of them smiled directly at Jennifer.

Jennifer’s stomach flipped.

Not panic exactly.

Something stranger.

Because the smile wasn’t mocking.

Or suspicious.

It was interest.

Pure uncomplicated male interest directed at her.

“I‘ll handle this,” Diana announced.

As headed over to the group of guys, the other girls watched her smile and chat with them briefly, then she came back smiling.

“I thanked them but let them know we were all spoken for so they would leave us alone, but one of them was particularly interested in a Jennifer.”

“Oh my God,” Alyssa laughed, “welcome to happy hour Jennifer.”

The women laughed while Jennifer tried desperately not to look back toward the men again.

But a few seconds later she caught herself checking her reflection faintly in the dark window beside the table.

Lip gloss.

Soft curls.

Heart earrings.

Then she quickly looked away, embarrassed at herself.

Denise lifted her new drink dramatically.

“To Jennifer ruining some poor finance bro’s concentration.”

Jennifer laughed despite herself while the women clinked glasses around her.

And somewhere underneath the embarrassment was another feeling Jennifer still didn’t quite know what to do with:

she liked being noticed.

—

By the second glass of wine, Jennifer had relaxed enough to forget she was supposed to be nervous.

Almost.

Then David’s name came up.

It happened casually.

One of the legal admins complained about executives who sent urgent emails at ten-thirty at night, and Diana rolled her eyes.

“At least you don’t support David Mitchell during this deal.”

Jennifer looked up automatically.

Alyssa pointed across the table.

“Oh my God, poor Jennifer.”

Jennifer smiled weakly.

“He’s been… busy.”

“Busy?” Denise laughed. “Honey, that man doesn’t have busy seasons. He is full steam ahead 100% of the time.”

The table laughed.

Jennifer smiled along.

Then Kimberly leaned forward with a wicked little grin.

“Although Michelle seems to survive him just fine.”

The table made a collective sound Jennifer didn’t fully understand at first.

Alyssa smirked into her drink.

“Oh please. Michelle and David are basically married.”

Jennifer froze.

Diana immediately waved a hand.

“Work married.”

“Sure,” Kimberly said. “Work married.”

Denise laughed.

“Nobody works that many weekends without at least emotionally adopting each other.”

The women laughed again.

Jennifer **** herself to smile.

Her face felt strange.

Too still.

Like she had to remind it what expression belonged there.

Alyssa turned toward her suddenly.

“You live with Michelle, right?”

Jennifer’s fingers tightened lightly around the stem of her wine glass.

“Yes.”

“So come on,” Alyssa said, grinning. “Is something going on there?”

Jennifer’s stomach dropped.

Not because the question was cruel.

It wasn’t.

It was gossip.

Normal gossip.

The kind women shared at happy hour over discounted wine and too-small appetizers.

Still, the words landed hard.

Something going on.

Jennifer opened her mouth and found herself with no idea how to answer.

Because Michael would have known how to answer.

Michael would have gotten angry.

Defensive.

Territorial.

Michael would have said something sharp enough to end the conversation.

But Jennifer didn’t feel territorial.

Not exactly.

She felt… displaced.

Like everyone at the table had casually pointed toward a chair she used to sit in and revealed someone else was already there.

“I honestly don’t know,” Jennifer said finally, keeping her voice light.

The women erupted instantly.

“Oh my God, that means yes.”

“No it doesn’t,” Jennifer said quickly, laughing because she had to.

“It absolutely means yes,” Denise insisted.

Diana leaned closer, softer than the others.

“They do have chemistry. Everyone knows it.”

Jennifer looked down at her drink.

Chemistry.

She hated how familiar the word sounded once someone else said it.

Because now she could see it everywhere.

Michelle smiling at her phone.

Michelle dressing more carefully on weekends she had to “go in.”

Michelle coming home tired but somehow lighter.

David’s name appearing constantly on her screen.

The women were still talking, but Jennifer heard them differently now.

David and Michelle.

Michelle and David.

Work husband.

Suddenly all the late nights and carefully chosen outfits looked different.

The phrase lodged somewhere painful.

A place she couldn’t name.

—

By the time Jennifer left the bar, her head felt full.

Not drunk.

Not quite.

Just crowded.

Diana hugged her goodbye on the sidewalk.

“You did great tonight.”

Jennifer laughed softly.

“At drinking wine?”

“At being one of us.”

That should have made her feel good.

It did.

Mostly.

But standing alone outside the bar afterward, Jennifer suddenly couldn’t imagine fighting her way through Port Authority tonight.

Not in heels.

Not with wine buzzing faintly in her head.

Not with the happy hour conversation replaying itself over and over.

Work husband.

They have chemistry.

Is something going on there?

Jennifer pulled out her phone and stared at the commuter bus schedule for several seconds.

Then quietly closed the app.

Two minutes later she was standing at the curb waiting for her first Uber as Jennifer.

That realization alone made her stomach tighten.

The car pulled up quickly.

The driver rolled down the window.

“Michael?”

Jennifer froze instantly.

The name hit her like ice water.

For half a second she couldn’t move.

Then the driver glanced at his phone again.

“Oh—sorry. Pickup says Michael Brennan.”

Jennifer’s pulse pounded violently.

Of course it did.

The Uber account was still under Michael’s name.

Jennifer **** herself to smile politely.

“That’s my husband’s account,” she said softly.

The words came out automatically.

Smoothly.

The driver nodded immediately.

“No problem, miss.”

Miss.

Not suspicion.

Not confusion.

Just:

miss.

Jennifer climbed into the backseat carefully, smoothing her dress beneath her automatically while her heart still hammered against her ribs.

The car pulled away from the curb and Manhattan lights slid across the dark windows beside her.

The Uber moved slowly through Midtown traffic while rain streaked softly against the windows.

Jennifer sat curled slightly into the corner of the backseat watching blurry city lights smear across the glass beside her.

Work husband.

They have chemistry.

Michelle and David.

The words kept replaying over and over in her head.

Jennifer told herself it shouldn’t hurt.

Michelle deserved happiness.

Didn’t she?

Hadn’t Michael spent the last two years depressed, withdrawn, emotionally absent?

Hadn’t Michelle carried almost everything alone?

Jennifer looked down at her hands folded carefully atop her purse.

Perfect nails.

Delicate jewelry.

And suddenly, without warning, tears welled hard enough that Jennifer had to look away from her own reflection.

The crying caught her completely off guard.

Quiet at first.

Just tears sliding silently down carefully made-up cheeks.

Then a shaky breath Jennifer couldn’t fully suppress.

The driver glanced up into the rearview mirror immediately.

“You okay back there, miss?”

Jennifer wiped quickly beneath her eyes, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” she said softly.

Then after a second:

“Sorry. Long week.”

The driver nodded sympathetically.

“No worries.”

Then he politely looked away again.

That somehow made Jennifer cry harder for another minute.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly sitting in the backseat while Manhattan blurred outside the windows.

And somewhere in the middle of it Jennifer realized something deeply unsettling:

Michael couldn’t remember the last time he cried.

But Jennifer had now cried in front in front of people twice in less than two weeks.

—

Michelle wasn’t home when Jennifer got back.

That bothered her more than she expected.

Sophie was on the couch watching television, homework.

“You’re back late,” Sophie said.

“Happy hour.”

Sophie’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh my God, Aunt Jennifer has a social life.”

Jennifer slipped off her heels near the door.

“Barely.”

“How was it?”

Jennifer hesitated.

Then shrugged.

“Educational.”

Sophie grinned.

“That means gossip.”

Jennifer pointed at her.

“That means it’s been a long day and I’m going to bed.”

Sophie laughed and went back to the television.

Jennifer walked upstairs slowly.

In the guest room, she changed into satin pajamas, washed off her makeup carefully the way Kathy had taught her, and brushed out her blonde hair.

Then she stood in front of the mirror for a long moment.

Heart studs.

Softened face.

Freshly moisturized skin.

Jennifer Brennan stared back.

Not Michael in hiding.

Not anymore.

Jennifer.

The woman who had gone to happy hour.

The woman the admins had confided in.

The woman who had been asked whether Michelle was involved with David.

Jennifer touched the edge of the sink lightly.

Downstairs, Sophie laughed at something on television.

Michelle still wasn’t home.

And for the first time, Jennifer understood that this new life wasn’t replacing Michael’s marriage.

It was continuing without him.

That thought stayed with her long after she turned off the light.