Page 30 of Hitched to my Boss

"Ms. Santos, this is David Chen from Hartfield Industries. We met at the communications conference in Chicago last year?"

I remember him. Major potential client, the kind of account that could set me up for years. "Of course, David. How can I help you?"

"We've got a situation that requires immediate crisis management. Product recall, potential lawsuits, the works. I remembered your presentation on proactive reputation management and thought you might be available for a consultation."

Six months ago, this call would have been a career-making opportunity. Now, sitting in my mountain cabin a thousand miles from anywhere that matters professionally, it feels like a lifeline thrown to someone who's been drowning without realizing it.

"I'd be happy to discuss your needs," I hear myself saying. "Though I should mention I'm currently based in Nevada, so we'd need to work out the logistics of?—"

"Nevada?" His voice changes, becomes less professional. "I thought you were based in Atlanta. Isn't that where your office is?"

"I've been working remotely while handling some personal matters."

There's a pause that feels loaded with judgment. "I see. Well, this situation requires someone who can be fully present and available. Maybe this isn't the right time."

"David, I can assure you that my location doesn't affect my ability to?—"

"I'm sure it doesn't. But we need someone whose full attention is on our account, not someone who's dealing with personal complications that might interfere with their professional judgment."

The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone in shock. David Chen just dismissed me as a serious professional because I'm living in the mountains with my husband instead of maintaining a prestigious city office and single-minded career focus.

He's not wrong.

I've spent the past month reorganizing my entire existence around Jason's life, moving into his space, adjusting my work schedule to accommodate his needs, defining myself in relation to him instead of as an independent entity. I've been so focused on making our situation work that I haven't stopped to ask whether I'm sacrificing who I am for who he needs me to be.

This isn't love. This is the kind of self-erasure I've always prided myself on being too smart to fall into. I'm becoming one of those women who disappears into a relationship, who loses her identity and professional edge because she's too busy playing supportive wife to maintain her own ambitions.

I close my laptop with shaking hands and walk to the window overlooking the mountains. The view is stunning, peaceful, everything I thought I wanted. But all I can see now is isolation. Distance from opportunities, from colleagues, from the life I'd built before Jason Wallace crashed into it with his green eyes and wounded mountain man act.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jason.

Jason: Project's going well but complex. Might need another week to get a complete picture. How are you settling in?

Another week. Another week of me sitting in this cabin, neglecting my career, losing professional momentum while he pursues the opportunity that could transform his business.

I stare at the message for a long time before responding.

Me: I'm fine. Take the time you need.

But I'm not fine. I'm disappearing, becoming a shadow of the professional I used to be, and I'm letting it happen because I fell for a man who makes me feel things I've never felt before.

The smart thing, the responsible thing, would be to rebuild the boundaries I've let erode completely. Return to Atlanta, take on clients who don't complicate my personal life, rebuild the career I've put at risk for a marriage that started as an accident and might end the same way.

I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the number for my Atlanta office manager.

"Tarah? It's Natalia. I need you to start looking for Atlanta office space again. Something professional, centrally located. I'm thinking it's time to come home."

As I hang up and start making a list of everything I need to do to extract myself from the life I've been building here, I try to ignore the voice in my head that's asking whether I'm being smart or just scared.

Whether I'm protecting my career or running away from the first real happiness I've ever found.

But happiness that costs you your identity isn't real happiness, is it? It's just another trap dressed up as love.

And I've never been the kind of woman who falls into traps, no matter how beautifully they're disguised.

9

JASON

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