Callie, I’m so sorry. Please call me.
Three dots blinked for a split second. Then they vanished.
My heart stuttered as I fired off another text.
Me
I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. I don’t know how it happened, but the alert wasn’t set.
Nothing.
Me
Please, just talk to me.
I love you.
Still nothing.
Sweat prickled under my collar, but the rising panic was sharper than the heat.
She would understand. My mom had shown up unannounced. I didn’t skip the appointment on purpose. I meant to go. I just…forgot.
The excuse sounded bad, even in my own head.
Callie had needed me, and I hadn’t been there.
She’d walked into that exam room alone. Shared her fears with the doctor without me at her side.
All because of a lunch that could’ve waited. A mistake that could have been avoided if I’d just opened my damn calendar. Orignored my mother’s rule about no phones during meals so that my wife could reach me.
I’d promised her I would show up for her while we built a family.
And I’d already messed up the very first time she needed me.
My chest tightened, like someone had sucked the air from the garage. Callie’s face flashed in my mind—those hazel eyes, trusting me when I swore I’d be there. I’d failed my wife on the day she needed me most.
3
CALLIE
The penthouse was too quiet when I stepped inside, the hush pressing down until even the faint hum of the air conditioner felt loud. The scent of lemon polish lingered in the air, a reminder the cleaner had been here today. It was one of the lifestyle changes that I’d adjusted to the quickest since I hated doing chores, but I found myself resenting that someone had been in my home while I sat alone at the doctor’s office.
I set my purse down on the sleek console table by the door, the glass surface gleaming under the recessed lighting. The condo was undeniably beautiful, but also cold.
I’d done my best to soften the place after I moved in. I added a throw blanket folded over the arm of the leather sofa. My favorite hardcovers were lined up in neat rows on the bookcase Ethan bought for me. There was a framed photo of us from our honeymoon on the console, where Ethan’s arm was around my shoulders and my hair was tangled from the sea breeze. Little pieces of me tucked into corners, fighting to warm a home that had been his long before it became ours.
Really, it had been his mother’s more than his, without her ever living here. Margot had chosen the decorator, overseeingevery detail when Ethan bought the place five years ago. And she never missed a chance to remind me, especially when she spotted something I’d dared to change.
Even without her voice in my ear, I’d never felt less like this was my home than I did right now.
I stood in the middle of the living room, wondering if I should call my husband and demand to know if he remembered where he was supposed to be.
My throat burned, and I tossed my phone onto one of the couch cushions.
This conversation needed to be face-to-face.
Almost as though my thoughts had conjured up my husband, the slam of the front door echoed through the penthouse, making me jump. Rapid footsteps followed, heavy against the polished wood floors.
