When he finally takes the phone, I say, “Happy birthday, son. You’re almost a man. When you get back, your present will be waiting for you.”
He looks away before answering. “Thanks, Dad. I know I’ll like it.”
It hits harder than I expect, the first time in weeks he’s called meDadwithout sarcasm or disappointment cutting through the word. I swallow against the knot rising in my throat, clinging to it, needing to keep him here with me, even if it’s only through a screen.
“Don’t worry,” I add, forcing a chuckle. “It’s not a new car.”
The instant the words leave my mouth, I regret them. His jaw tightens. His shoulders go rigid.
“Okay,” I sigh, dragging a hand over my face. “Too soon. I was thinking… maybe we could do something together this weekend. All four of us. Do you already have plans with your friends?”
He nods. “We can go. Mom and Alicia will really like that.”
The message is clear. He’s agreeing for them. Not for me.
It hurts more than I want to admit, because I used to be his hero—the man he wanted to impress. Somewhere along the way, I lost that role. And I’m still not sure exactly when it happened.
He doesn’t linger. He hands the phone back to Ceci, and my chest tightens at how quickly I’ve become a formality in his life.
She talks to me for a few minutes. Her voice is soft. And yet, even as she smiles, I can feel the distance. The wall I helped build with every careless word, every late night, every time I chose to be somewhere else instead of here.
“I love you, Ceci,” I say softly. “I can’t wait to have all of you back tomorrow.”
I watch her closely, searching for the softness that used to come without effort. But her expression doesn’t shift. Her voice stays even.
“Love you, too. I’m going to hang up now, we have to get up early tomorrow.”
She said the words. That should be enough. She loves me. She said it.
Still, they land differently. Thinner. Lighter. As if something essential has been stripped away.
When she’s back. When I can hold her again, when her eyes meet mine without a screen between us, it’ll be different. It has to be.
I set the phone aside and fall into routine. Get ready for bed. Set my alarm. Plan to leave early so I can still make it back in time for dinner tomorrow.
I want to be the one waiting when they walk through the door—but I won’t be. Obligations don’t bend. Not for anyone.
There’s a company hemorrhaging money, buried under debt, but I can see the potential beneath the mess. It’s been steered by the wrong hands. Once Montgomery Clifford acquires it, we’ll revive it. We’ll make it thrive.
That’s the plan.
I pull back the covers, and my gaze lands on her side of the bed. Empty. Cold.
Is this what she feels every night when I don’t come home early?
The thought hits like a dull ache in my chest, and I can’t move for a long moment.
I hate it. Lying here alone, without her warmth, without the way she fits against me even when we’re angry. Even when she’s hurt.
I reach for her pillow, dragging it close, pressing my face into it. Her scent lingers, faint but still there.
I breathe it in, my chest tightening with something I refuse to name.
Clutching the pillow beside me, surrounded by Ceci’s scent, I close my eyes.
And in our bed, alone, I finally fall asleep.
“I’ve sent over the latest reports you requested. And Jonathan’s assistant dropped off a few documents for your consideration.”
