The line

The line
Natalie opened the door without asking why Catherine was there. Her gaze moved from the overnight bag in Catherine’s hand to the laptop pressed against her side. Then she stepped back and let her enter.

“The guest room is ready.”

Catherine looked at her. “You always keep it ready?”

“No. I saw your message while you were in the elevator.”

“You changed the sheets in thirty seconds?”

“I decided clean sheets were less important than not making you explain yourself in the hallway.”

Despite everything, Catherine smiled.

Natalie took the bag from her and carried it toward the guest room. Catherine followed through the apartment, trying to ignore the phone in her coat pocket. Erik had called once during the drive. She had watched his name disappear from the screen without answering.

“Wine or tea?” Natalie asked.

“Tea.”

“Good. You can tell me what happened while I make it.”

Catherine set her laptop on the small desk beside the window. “Can I at least take off my coat first?”

“Only because interrogating you in the hallway would make me a terrible host.”

Catherine slipped out of her coat. She had left home to prevent the argument from becoming worse. Now that she was standing in Natalie’s guest room, the decision felt larger than it had in their dining room.

A few minutes later, Catherine sat at Natalie’s kitchen counter with a cup of tea between her hands. Natalie took the stool opposite her.

“All right,” she said. “What did Erik do?”

“He lied to me.”

Natalie’s expression changed. “About what?”

“Juliano.”

She told her enough to explain the argument without repeating every detail of the story Erik had finally shared. The confidential accounts. Juliano’s investigation. The debt. The eleven days Erik had waited before admitting what he had done.

Natalie listened without interrupting.

When Catherine finished, she sat beside her.

“That’s complicated.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Well, it is.”

Catherine looked at the phone in her hand. Another message from Erik waited on the screen.

Let me know you arrived safely.

She typed a short reply.

I’m here.

His answer came almost immediately.

Can we talk?

Catherine locked the screen.

“Not tonight,” Natalie said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You looked at your phone as if it had personally offended you.”

“He wants to talk.”

“And you came here because you don’t.”

“I came here because he waited until I forced him to tell me the truth.”

Natalie nodded. “Then tonight, you sleep. Tomorrow, after coffee, you can decide what to do with your husband.”

Catherine wanted to believe it could be that simple. It wasn’t.

By eight the next morning, she was at the desk with her laptop open. She had slept for less than four hours and spent most of those waking whenever a car passed below Natalie’s window.

Thomas called shortly after nine.

“The revised Vandervoort figures are approved,” he said. “I’ve sent the final documents to their management team.”

“I saw Juliano’s message.”

There was a brief pause.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes.”

“That sounded convincing.”

“I’m staying with Natalie for a few days.”

Thomas was silent.

“Don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking loudly.”

“I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll handle Vandervoort today. There’s nothing here that needs you.”

Catherine looked at the list of meetings in her calendar. “I can work.”

“I didn’t suggest otherwise. I said I can handle Vandervoort.”

She knew better than to argue when Thomas used that tone.

“Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

Her phone rang again less than ten minutes later.

Juliano.

Catherine considered letting it go to voicemail. Then she remembered that the approval might require more than the message he had sent the night before.

“Good morning.”

“Catherine.”

The sound of her name in his voice was enough to make her sit straighter.

“Is there a problem with the figures?”

“No. Everything has been approved.”

“Then what do you need?”

Silence followed.

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

Her fingers stilled above the keyboard.

“That’s an unusual reason for a business call.”

“It isn’t a business call.”

Catherine stood and moved toward the window.

“Then perhaps this isn’t a good time.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You sound tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Because of Erik?”

Catherine turned away from the window. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because he was there when I sent the message.”

It took her a moment to understand.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“You answered differently than you normally do.”

“I wrote two words.”

“You usually add a question or mention the next step. Last night, you only thanked me.”

“That doesn’t mean Erik was there.”

“No. But you don’t usually reply with two words unless something’s wrong.”

Catherine tightened her grip on the phone.

“You shouldn’t be analyzing my messages.”

“I analyze everything.”

“I’m beginning to understand why Erik finds that difficult.”

Juliano went quiet.

“He told you about us.”

“He told me enough.”

“And now you’re angry with me.”

“I’m angry with both of you.”

“That is more than he usually admits.”

“You don’t get to make this about winning an argument with him.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No.”

His answer lacked its usual ease.

Catherine closed her eyes briefly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. This is between Erik and me.”

“Where are you?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You aren’t at home.”

The certainty in his voice unsettled her.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Treating every pause as information you’re entitled to use.”

Another silence followed, longer this time.

“You’re right,” Juliano said. “I’m sorry.”

The apology should have eased the tension. It didn’t.

Catherine returned to the desk. “I need to work.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then why did you leave?”

She froze.

“I didn’t tell you I left.”

“You just confirmed it.”

“Juliano.”

“He had you beside him, and he still found a reason to make you walk away.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I know he keeps asking you to accept his absence, his suspicion and his secrets.”

“That is an unfair summary of my marriage.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me I’m wrong.”

“You are wrong.”

Her answer came quickly, yet Juliano didn’t retreat.

“You defend him even when he isn’t there.”

“He’s my husband.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then act like it.”

The words settled between them.

When Juliano spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“I have tried.”

Catherine’s pulse shifted.

“This conversation needs to end.”

“I told myself that wanting to speak to you was harmless. That noticing when you were tired or disappointed didn’t change anything. I told myself I could remain on the side of the line you had drawn.”

Catherine stared at the closed guest-room door.

“Don’t.”

“But he keeps leaving you alone.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to step into his place.”

“No,” Juliano said. “It doesn’t.”

For one second, she thought he had understood. Then he continued.

“But I want to.”