I tell Rhys at dinner.
Not immediately. First I come home to Arlo losing his mind at the door, both paws on my shoulders, one white ear forward, tail making structural threats to the hallway furniture. First I change out of my work clothes and sit on the kitchen counter while Rhys finishes cooking and we do the easy debrief of two people whose days intersected with a dog in a hard hat.
Then over dinner I say, "Callum Reid called me today."
Rhys looks up from his plate.
"The Reid Creative CEO," I say.
"I know who he is," Rhys replies. "Helena knows his name like most people know curse words." He sets his fork down. "What did he want?"
"Dinner tomorrow," I say. "He said he has a proposition I will find very difficult to say no to."
"And?" Rhys pushes.
"And I told hi
