He reads it but doesn’t reply.
At least he saw it. At least I know he’ll be there if she needs anything.
Maybe I should have stayed home.
But when I told Ceci about this trip—unlike so many other times, when she’d ask how long I’d be gone or exactly when I’d be back—she barely reacted. As if it didn’t matter. As if my absence registered as nothing more than background noise.
It has to be exhaustion. That’s all.
By Christmas, I’ll make it right. I’ll carve out real time for us. For the kids. Maybe even a quick ski trip, something to pull us back together again. Something that reminds us of who we are when life isn’t moving at this relentless pace.
It’ll be good for us.
To reconnect.
Like in those days when the kids were younger, and everything felt slower. Simpler.
I’m in a meeting with a potential investor, just before we head to the convention, when my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket. Against my better judgment, doing the very thing I hate when others do it, I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Ceci:Sorry, I left my phone on the nightstand when I went downstairs. I’m feeling better, yes. We’ll talk later. Enjoy the trip.
Enjoy the trip?
What does she mean by that? Enjoy? It’s a work trip. There’s nothing to enjoy.
I type back immediately.
Me:Working hard so I can get home as fast as possible. Missing you so much. I love you.
She reacts with a heart. Nothing else. No words—just a single, silent heart.
I slide the phone back into my pocket and force my attention back to the conversation in front of me, but the sensation lingers.There’s something I’m overlooking.
I shake my head.
Tomorrow, I’ll be home. This feeling will fade.
Maya
We’re having dinner at the hotel restaurant, and Colin won’t stop looking at his phone. Not once. I’ve tried talking to him about everything—work, the city, the convention—but his attention keeps drifting back to the screen, pulled there like a magnet. I thought things would settle after he finally spoke toherduring the convention, but it’s only gotten worse.
The call was quick, just him checking in, promising he’d be home soon.
He just forgot to mention that he’d be withmeall night tonight, and all of tomorrow afternoon, before that happens.
I consider trying to force a conversation, but a better idea strikes me, something far more effective at dragging his focus away from that screen. I excuse myself, murmuring something about the restroom, and slip away from the table.
Inside the stall, I move quickly. I peel off my red lace panties and tuck them deep into the pocket of my blazer. I pause at the mirror, smoothing my hair and studying my reflection with a slow, predatory smile.
Let’s see if he can keep staring at his phone once I slip these into his pocket.
But when I return to the table, he’s already standing—and he isn't alone.
A blonde woman, younger than him and draped in a striking red dress, is laughing softly. Her hand is resting on his arm as if it belongs there. A spike of heat shoots through me. I quicken my pace, the air in my lungs turning tight.
I reach them and slide my fingers around his arm, covering the exact spot where her hand just was. "Sorry for the delay," I say, my voice pitched just high enough to slice through their shared moment.
Colin’s eyes flick down to my hand, and in the coldness of his stare, I realize my mistake instantly. I let go, but the damage is done. He steps back, physically widening the space between usas if to disassociate himself from my touch. My jaw tightens, and I force myself to look at the woman.
