Too much time had passed since he'd abandoned Sandra to be alone in his bathroom while he dealt with family in the kitchen. His stomach churned as he slipped into his bedroom, immediately noticing the open bathroom door.
A small piece of paper on the counter caught his eye.
Called a friend, she picked me up. S
His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack.Goddammit.Sandra had felt compelled to orchestrate her own escape from what he'd turned into a prison. The woman who made his pulse race and his carefully ordered life feel worth living had snuck out of his house like a criminal.
Terry prided himself on handling whatever crisis was thrown his way. He could handle drug busts gone wrong, violent suspects, and his ex-wife's constant schedule changes. But this? His wonderfully planned night had gone fubar in a few seconds.
He spotted his phone on the nightstand where he'd left it after carrying Sandra to his bed, focused on getting her naked. She would have seen his phone was back here, out of reach. That was why she'd left a note instead of messaging.
His fingers shook slightly as he punched in her number, hoping against hope she'd answer. Sandra wasn't the type to play games or make him grovel, but he had no doubt she was furious or hurt. And he couldn't blame her for a single second of those emotions.
True to form, Sandra picked up on the second ring. Jumping in, Terry rushed to apologize. "I am so fucking sorry, Sandra. Christ, that wasn't how I expected our evening to play out, and I feel like shit that you had to sneak out."
She was quiet for a few seconds, and the silence stretched between them like a taut wire. He could hear the soft sound of her breathing, could picture her sitting in her living room, probably curled up on the comfortable couch he’d sat on at her place. The mental image made his chest ache.
"Terry, the situation wasn't on you. It was just one of those things that can happen. Emergencies come up. Circumstances can change. Plans have to be set aside. It happens."
While he felt the tightness in his chest ease a little at her understanding words, her tone still didn’t sound like the woman he'd come to know. There was a slight edge, one that he couldn't define, yet still felt heavy. Her voice carried a careful restraint that made him want to punch something. This wasn't the Sandra who laughed at his jokes or whispered his name against his neck when they made love.
"Babe, you're saying that you understand when plans have to be set aside and that it happens. You're right, but it shouldn't have gone down like that. I should've never been forced to stop what we were doing and tell you to hide in the bathroom. Right now, just realizing that I did that is gutting me."
The words came out rougher than he intended, but the memory of her face when he'd pulled away from her, the confusion and hurt that had flashed across her features before she'd masked it with understanding, played on repeat in his mind. She'd been so responsive in his arms, so perfectly matched to his rhythm, and then he'd torn that away from both of them in an instant.
A sigh met his ears, and he could picture her closing her eyes, maybe pressing her fingers to her temples the way she did when she was processing something difficult.
"Okay, I'm not going to lie. As I hid in your bathroom after getting dressed, waiting to see if there was an emergency, I became irritated once I ascertained that there didn't seem to be anything wrong. But I also knew there was no other choice. I'm part of your world, but not yet part of your kids' world, so there was no other way to handle the situation except for me to hide and then leave unseen."
Her admission hit him like a physical blow. He'd known she was upset but hearing her say it made everything worse. He hated the image of her standing in his bathroom, fully dressed and listening to Patricia's voice carry down the hallway.
"I'm sorry you had to call someone," he continued, still not convinced she was okay with the situation. The thought of her having to reach out to a friend to come to get her and explain why she needed a ride from his house made him want to slam his fist through the wall.
"Terry." Her voice dropped an octave, taking on that measured tone she used when she was being deliberately patient. "I had no choice. I thought it through and could see no way around it. If I stayed hiding in your room until your ex-wife left, there still would've been your children to deal with. If I'd stayed until they went to bed, I would've been stuck in your bedroom for a while. I didn't have my vehicle, so I really did the only thing I could have done under the circumstances."
The logic in her words was sound, but it didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it made him feel worse because she was being so damn reasonable about the whole thing. He wanted her to be angry, to yell at him, to tell him he was an ass. Her calm acceptance felt like a wall going up between them, brick by brick.
Holding the phone to his ear, he scrubbed his hand over his face, his muscles tight as he winced again. "I reacted," he said, the words coming out like gravel. "And while it made sense in the heat of the moment not to have you come out, it was a shitty thing to do."
The silence only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a long bridge he wasn't sure he could cross. He could hear the soft sound of movement on her end, maybe her shifting position or setting something down, and he found himself straining to catch every nuance that might give him a clue about her state of mind.
"There really was nothing else we could've done. Having me walk out of your bedroom, even after I dressed and pulled myself together, would have looked horrible. What’s more important is that there was no emergency, and your kids are fine. I'm glad you called tonight, because I hated not being able to say goodbye when I left. But I'm pretty tired, so I think I'm going to take a hot bath and go to bed. I might use the time tomorrow to go into the office and catch up on some work."
Her tone sounded final, but he didn't have time to ascertain what was happening, knowing he needed to talk to the kids. It wasn't the first time their mom had changed plans, but he hated the way the kids just seemed to shrug it off as though spending time with her wasn't a big deal.
From down the hallway, he could hear the faint sound of the television and knew his children were probably wondering where he was. They'd been through enough tonight without him adding to it by being unavailable when they needed him.
"Terry, go be with your kids," Sandra said as though she’d heard his unspoken thoughts. Her voice had gentled slightly, but there was still that careful distance in it that made his chest tighten. "I'm fine, safe at home, and I'll talk to you sometime this week. Goodbye.”
The instant he heard the word “goodbye,” panic flared in his chest. He hoped it was just goodbye for tonight and not something more permanent. The words she chose didn’t imply she’d call him later. Nor that she would talk to him tomorrow. Nor that she would see him soon. Her words were that she’d talk to himsometime. The vague timeline felt like a door closing.
With one hand on his hip, his phone still at his ear as he listened to nothingness, he stared down at his bare feet against the hardwood floor. The house felt different now, charged with an energy that had nothing to do with his children's presence and everything to do with what had just happened. A heavy sigh left his lungs, carrying with it the weight of regret and something that felt dangerously close to loss.
The phone felt heavy in his hand, and for a moment, he considered calling her back, demanding that they talk through this properly instead of letting it fester overnight. But even as the thought formed, he knew it was selfish. She'd been clear about needing space, about being tired, and he'd already put her through enough tonight.
"Dad, are you coming?" Toby called out, his voice carrying that slightly plaintive tone that meant he was trying to be patient but was running out of steam.
Terry shoved his phone into his pocket and ran both hands through his hair, trying to shake off the conversation and the lingering of things left unsaid. The normalcy of his son's voice calling for him felt like a lifeline when everything else felt like he was drowning.
