The Fox in the Hat

Elena smoothed the wide-brimmed hat she'd bought specifically for today, though its shadow across her face did nothing to calm her nerves. The café was half-empty at 2 PM on a Tuesday, which was exactly why she'd chosen it. Her iPhone buzzed on the table — him again.

"You're wearing the hat," Marcus said, sliding into the chair opposite hers. He looked better than she remembered, which was infuriating.

"It's raining."

"It's not raining, Elena."

She took a breath. "I know what you do for a living now. I know you were the one who leaked those documents."

Marcus's expression didn't change. He placed his own phone on the table, screen down. "And what exactly do you think I do?"

"Corporate spy. The fox in the henhouse, except you're not even subtle about it." Her voice trembled despite herself. "That merger my company spent two years negotiating? You torpedoed it from the inside."

"I saved four hundred jobs," he said quietly. "Your company was going to liquidate that division. Everyone would have lost everything."

Elena stared at him. The weight of three years — the dinner parties, the shared vacations, the mornings she'd woken up believing he was just a consultant — settled on her chest like stone.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would it have changed anything? Between us?"

She picked up her iPhone, hesitated, then put it back down. Outside, rain finally began to streak the window. The hat suddenly felt ridiculous.

"I don't know," she said. "But I would have liked to have been asked."

Marcus reached across the table, then withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I really did love you."

Elena stood up. "For what it's worth," she echoed, "so did I."

She left the hat on the chair. Some things were better left behind.