Page 48 of Be My Wife

I smile at Hal, the security guard.

He doesn’t smile back. Or maybe he’s trying to, but his lips are trembling too much and he’s too busy trying not to make direct eye contact to be his usual, warm self.

I reach for the door.

Hal huffs around the desk, grabs the door and wrenches it open for me, his white-knuckled grip gleaming against silver chrome. Sweat glistens on his broad forehead and above his thick upper lip.

Shocked, I stutter out, “Hal, I-I’ve got it.”

“No, ma’am. Elizabeth, ma’am.” He swallows like I’m the Queen of Hearts about to yell ‘off with his head!’ “Mrs. Harrington.”

The entire room goes still.

No activity.

No whispers.

No footsteps.

Just eternal silence.

Like I’ve cast a magical spell and turned everyone into very realistic-looking stone.

Mrs. Harrington?

I resist the urge to point at myself, yell who me and laugh uncontrollably.

Me.

Mrs. Harrington?

No.

I’m just Elizabeth. I’m just the quiet accountant who works on the top floor. The girl who blends into a crowd. Who opens her own doors. Who goes by her first name and not her last.

Mrs. Harrington?

Who the hell is she?

I should wring Riley’s neck for this.

Her gossip has already spread like a wild, un-tamable fire.

And now I’m someone else.

Wife of the boss.

Madam of a major conglomerate.

If only they knew.

I’m the wife of a husband who wants nothing to do with me so…

Grass really isn’t that greener.

“Thanks, Hal,” I say quietly and scamper outside.

It’s only when I’m a few feet from the doors do I feel like I can breathe again. The sun is warm on my face. I tilt my chin up to capture its heat. Put some life back into my bones after that Twilight Zone experience of being the center of attention.

---