Page 101 of Cross Ice

I sent the first revised case study to my web designer by ten fifteen.

Then I went back and checked the browser tabs. I was already at twelve checks before noon.

The client email I’d been dreading arrived at eleven, from the mid-sized tech firm I’d been working with for months, the communications director, professional and careful: Evan, hope you’re doing okay. Just want to check in and see where things stand.

An email that could mean anything or nothing.

I drafted a response. Deleted it. Drafted another. Thanks for checking in. Happy to set up a call this week to discuss the March timeline. My work is unaffected.

Read it back. Wondered if unaffected sounded defensive. Decided it sounded like the truth. Sent it before I could change my mind.

Three minutes later, my phone rang. The communications director, not waiting for a callback.

“Evan. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” A pause that told me everything. “I want to be straightforward with you. The account team has some concerns about the timing—not about your work, which has been excellent, but about visibility. We have a product launch in six weeks and we’re trying to keep the narrative clean.”

I knew what was coming. I kept my voice even. “I understand the concern.”

“We’d like to pause the engagement for now. Given the March timeline, we’re going to bring someone else in to see the launch through. But we’d love to reconnect afterward.”

They wouldn’t reconnect. I knew that too. But I said, “Of course. I’ll send over everything you need for a smooth handoff.”

I hung up and sat still for a moment.

That was four clients now. Four people who’d hired me for my expertise and had decided that my personal life made me a liability. Four instances of collateral damage from photographs I hadn’t known were being taken.

I opened the browser tabs.

Seventeen checks before noon. I stopped counting.

Danny texted at eleven thirty.

Danny

How are you doing? Don’t say fine.

Evan

I’m managing.

Danny

That’s just “fine” with more syllables. I’m coming over for dinner.

Evan

I have work.

Danny

I’ll bring food. You can work after.

I didn’t argue.

He arrived at six thirty with burritos and took one look at my laptop screen—browser tabs open, case study document open beside them, three empty coffee cups on the desk—and pulled me out of my office without commenting on any of it.

We ate at the kitchen bar. He asked about the statement, and I told him what I knew: the timeline, the response, and the teammate support.

I said mostly positive twice, and both times the word mostly did more work than I’d intended.