She turned to me immediately. “Yes, Mrs. Sterling?”
“I need the movers called back.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Called back?”
“Yes,” I said, already pulling out my phone for her to use. “There’s been a mistake.”
Thirty minutes later, the movers were back, looking mildly confused but professional enough not to question me.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I told them, handing one of the men the master bedroom key Maria had provided. “My things were placed in the wrong room.”
He blinked. “Wrong room?”
“Yes.” I smiled pleasantly. “They should have gone into the master bedroom. I’ll compensate you for the hassle.”
A wide smile spread across his face. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Maria tried very hard not to look amused as the men began hauling my boxes down the hallway toward Callahan’s bedroom.
The master suite was larger than my entire apartment. Dark hardwood floors, deep navy accents, and an enormous bed that I couldn’t wait to dive into. The room was unmistakably his — minimalistic, organized, masculine.
They worked quickly. Clothes were hung. Shoes arranged. My vanity items were lined neatly along the bathroom counter. Within an hour, the master bedroom no longer looked like a single man lived there. When they finished, I paid them generously and thanked them again. The sound of the front door closing behind them felt like a victory bell.
Maria lingered near the doorway.
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Sterling?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” I said. “That will be all.”
She gave me a warm smile before leaving me alone. I stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning in a circle. This felt right. I took a quick shower, slipped on my bonnet, and dived into bed.
I imagined him coming home later, opening the door, seeing what I’d done. Maybe he’d sigh. Maybe he’d look mildly exasperated. But then he’d shrug and climb into bed beside me. We’d cuddle, maybe even share a kiss.
The thought made me smile as I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I noticed was the feeling of emptiness. The sheets beside me were untouched and cold. I frowned, blinking sleep from my eyes. Theother pillow was perfectly fluffed. No sign that anyone had lain there.
He hadn’t come to bed.
My plan had failed.
I was mentally berating myself when a light knock sounded at the door. I stared at it, irritation already creeping up my spine.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened gently, and Maria stepped inside with her usual cheerful smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sterling.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
8:52 a.m.
It wasn’t even nine. I took a breath, forced a pleasant expression, and looked at her. "Good morning, Maria."
“I hope you slept well,” she said brightly. “Mr. Sterling is waiting for you to join him for breakfast.”
So he was home. He just didn’t sleep here. Of course. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
