Taylor looked surprised for only a moment before smirking. “Done.”

I raised my palm, and our waiter started in our direction immediately. Taylor clapped, and KJ laughed as he took a long sip of his drink. “I’ll have the filet, medium rare. If you could rush it, that would be wonderful.”

“Was the tuna not to your liking?” the waiter asked nervously, his white sport coat bunching at the waist as he leaned over me.

“Something like that.”

I was halfway through my steak, with KJ and Taylor cheering me on for every bite and thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, when Jordan leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Matt and I created a monster.”

I smiled in his direction but barely looked over. “I think we need another bottle.” I swirled the last bit of red wine in my glass. I needed a lot more wine to wash down the revolting ball of flesh lodged in my throat.

*

As my eyes adjusted to the scene inside my apartment, I dropped my keys to the floor with a clatter. Sam was standing in the middle of the living room, hunched over a large box, sealing in its contents with duct tape, and a few more unassembled boxes were scattered around the room.

“What are you doing?” I asked, letting the door shut behind me without picking up my keys.

He stared back at me blankly. “We need to talk,” he said, straightening his spine.

I took another step into the apartment. “I didn’t lie to you. That was work. That’s part of my job.”

“Really, Alex? That’s your story? Honestly . . .”

“What do you want from me? I have to entertain clients. It’s how we get work. And for your information, I actually brought in a deal tonight.”

“Alex, I don’t give a shit about work or deals or anything! You chose your colleagues over me. You’ve been doing it for months now.”

“I’m trying to build a career here!” Within seconds, I was crying. And I was drunk. I was hoping Sam couldn’t tell the difference between just upset and upset and drunk. “You wouldn’t understand,” I mumbled.

Sam bowed his head. “I do understand. I just don’t understand why you feel the need to make it a choice. Why don’t you ever invite me to firm drinks or out with clients? Take dinner breaks with me, invite me to events—and not just the Christmas party. Am I that embarrassing?” He asked the question facetiously, but before I knew it, I had shrugged. He inhaled sharply. “You’re fucking embarrassed of me? YOU? Are embarrassed. Of ME? Do you know how insane that is, Alex? Do you even know who you have become? I should be embarrassed of you! Coke nosebleeds at dinner in overpriced restaurants? I should be embarrassed by your obsession with money and clothes and your sense that you are better than everything and everyone. You are so out of touch with reality, it is completely insane!” He was so angry, he was practically hopping as he yelled.

I opened my mouth and closed it. I tried again. Finally, I shook my head and stormed into the bedroom, locking the door behind me. I paced the thin strip of floor between the bed and my dresser, fuming. Incorporate him into my work world? Is he kidding me? He’d be eaten alive!

Unable to sustain that level of indignation for long, I sat down on the bed, exhausted by the whole evening.

I was bound to get caught at some point, I thought. It could have been worse. I shuddered at the idea of him catching me with Peter, and a sense of relief replaced my fury. I looked at the locked door, wondering momentarily whether I should try to speak to Sam. But I opted to shower and climb into bed instead, thinking it would be best to have a civilized discussion in the morning. It wasn’t lost on me that my having locked him out of the bedroom meant he wouldn’t be able to finish packing, or use the bathroom, for that matter. I crawled under the covers and shut my eyes, but a few minutes later, a soft knock on the door forced them open. I stared up at the ceiling for a moment, mulling whether to get up, then finally shut them again.

I woke early, my heart racing from a combination of anxiety and last night’s drinks. I opened the bedroom door quietly and stuck my head out, not wanting to wake Sam if he was sleeping, but he was sitting up on the couch, staring straight ahead at the blank TV. He looked at me with his large, kind eyes, and I was surprised to find myself feeling deeply sad to be ending my relationship with the man I had spent the entirety of my young adult life with. I leaned the side of my face into the door, my hand still around the knob, and tears silently poured down my cheeks.

Sam got up and made his way toward me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I hiccuped through my tears.

He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. “Shhh. It’s all okay. It’s just. . . . We’ve just . . .”

“Grown apart,” I finished, then cried harder into his chest. He led me to the couch, where I almost collapsed, weeping from the bottom of my stomach. I knew the tears weren’t just over Sam leaving. They were about the person I had become, the left turn my neat little life had taken into a mess of cheating and partying. He steadied me with his arm, letting me cry while shedding a few tears himself, and when I calmed down a little, he brought me a glass of water. He then turned back to his boxes, and though I couldn’t bring myself to help him pack, I watched him intently.

When he had sealed the last one, he sat next to me, placing a hand lightly on my upper thigh and smiling sadly. “It wasn’t forever. But it was a great run, wasn’t it?”

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, suddenly uncertain myself.

Sam nodded. “There was a point at Thanksgiving where I think we were either going to move forward or . . .” He trailed off. “And we didn’t. I gave it a few months to see if we could get back on track, but it didn’t happen. And we can blame your job and my company or any number of other things, but if this were right, we’d have made it work. Don’t you think, Al?”

I felt an ache in my chest when he said my name, and I had to look away, but I nodded, knowing he was right.

“It’s better this way. We’re both going to be better this way,” he assured me.

“Where will you go?” I asked quietly.

“My buddy Chris from work just had a roommate move out of his place in the East Village. I’m going to sublet the room.” He glanced around the apartment. “I’ve been to his place before. It’s not this. But it’s really nice.”

I felt stung by the speed of his answer. “You can stay as long as—”

“I’m going to go today,” he said firmly. “It’s the right thing. I’ll have my stuff out before you get back tonight.”

“I understand,” I said, and I did.

I felt sad about the breakup, but only in a dull, detached sort of way. I realized that I’d been mentally preparing for a life without Sam for months, and the forefront of my brain was consumed with closing three deals. My heart, which might have otherwise ached, burst with the excitement of my affair with Peter. My days rolled forward with no regard for the fact that anything in my life had changed. As a result, it was easy enough to pretend it hadn’t.

I put my palms on my forehead, drawing the skin tight and up; I found it helped to keep my eyelids from closing. I was nearly finished with the markup Jordan had given me and was on track to be home at five o’clock and asleep by six that evening, the earliest I would have been to bed in months. I grabbed at my ringing office phone and cradled it between my chin and shoulder as I continued to type.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Hi. Are you able to come to my office now?”

My stomach lurched at the formality of his tone. “Sure. Be right there.”

Matt’s door was closed, but he called for me to enter before my knuckle hit the wood for the second time. He was on the phone but gestured for me to close the door and take a seat. Yikes. Closed-door meetings were never a good thing.

As I listened to the tail end of his conversation, I scanned the room for the trash can I’d need if my lunch climbed any higher in my throat.

“I appreciate your understanding. She’s a wonderful associate, but she’s still in her first year. I’ll speak with her. Thanks for catching this . . . Okay . . . Okay . . . Thanks again.” He hung up and turned to me, his eyes serious. “Alex, there was a reference to a change in employment agreements in the Hat Trick deal we closed a few months back. The company caught that we never raised a flag. Did you loop in our employment specialists on the deal? I can’t believe they’d have been okay with it.”

I stared at him, unable to speak. Of course I hadn’t looped in our employment specialists. I was completely unaware that I was supposed to. Now I would have, but a few months ago, it was just not on my radar.