Chapter 4: The Promotion That Wasn't
Ryan came home at eleven that night.
I was still at the kitchen table.
I hadn't moved the phone.
He saw me sitting there and stopped in the doorway.
"Claire."
"Sit down, Ryan."
He didn't sit.
He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, the way he did when he was preparing a defense.
"I know how today looked," he started.
"Tell me about the promotion," I said.
He blinked.
"What?"
"The promotion.
The one you've been talking about for months.
The one that's why Lauren had to be at the picnic.
The one that's why I packed a cooler and dragged it across the sand while you walked ahead." I kept my voice level.
"Tell me about it."
"It's a senior project manager role.
I've told you all of this."
"When does the decision get made?"
"End of September."
"And Lauren makes that decision?"
"She's one of the decision-makers, yes."
"Is she the main one?"
A pause.
Small, but there.
"She has significant input."
"Ryan." I folded my hands on the table.
"Is there something about this promotion — or about Lauren — that you haven't told me?"
He pushed off the counter and pulled out a chair.
He sat down across from me, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell me the truth.
His face had that look.
The look of someone standing at the edge of something.
Then he pulled back.
"I've been under a lot of pressure," he said.
"This role would change everything for us.
The salary increase alone—"
"I'm not asking about the salary."
"I'm trying to explain—"
"Who is D.K.?"
The edge of something again.
And again, he stepped back from it.
"A colleague.
Someone who works in Lauren's division.
It's nothing."
"They told you not to say anything.
At a company event.
In front of your wife."
"It was about a work matter.
A sensitive personnel issue.
It had nothing to do with you."
I looked at him for a long moment.
"Okay," I said.
He relaxed slightly.
"Okay?"
"I'm going to bed."
He watched me stand up.
"That's it?"
"What did you want me to say, Ryan?"
He didn't answer.
I went upstairs.
I brushed my teeth.
I got into bed and lay in the dark and listened to him move around the kitchen below me — the tap running, the refrigerator opening, the quiet of a man who thought the conversation was over.
I picked up my phone and added to the note.
The next morning, while Ryan was in the shower, his phone lit up on the nightstand.
I wasn't looking for it.
It was just there.
The preview showed the first line of a message before the screen went dark.
*The board doesn't know yet.
We have until Friday.*
The sender was Lauren.
I set his phone back exactly where it had been.
I went downstairs and made Mason's breakfast.
I poured Ryan's coffee.
I said good morning when he came down and asked if he wanted toast.
He said yes.
He kissed the top of my head on his way to the table.
I stood at the counter and thought about the word *yet.*
The board doesn't know yet.
Know what?
I thought about D.K.
I thought about the fear on Ryan's face at the beach.
I thought about Lauren's hand on his arm in the side mirror.
And I thought about something my mother had told me once, years ago, when I was young and impatient and wanted answers before I had enough pieces.
*Don't move until you can see the whole board, Claire.
A partial picture will only get you hurt.*
I had three pieces.
May you like
I needed more.
I knew exactly who to call.
