A Player’s Promise

Chapter 1 – Juliana

F ive minutes ago, my life seemed perfect, I think as I watch my husband kiss his assistant and lead her into the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton across the street.

My phone buzzes as my brain scrambles to rationalize what I’ve just witnessed, questioning everything from my eyesight to my consciousness. I pull my phone out and read my new text in this odd detached state of denial.

Chad: Knock ‘em dead, kid. That Culver deal is in the bag.

Kid. He’s called me that since I was his shiny new hire with the ink on my architecture degree not even dry.

Ten years older, I thought he was so smooth, so romantic.

He’d admitted being a player when we met, but he’d been intent on wooing me, and I fell fast and hard like it was the simplest thing in the world.

He swore I’d changed him, that our love had been his turning point.

Did he really just send me a text from the hotel where he’s planning to cheat on me with his PA? Is this the first time? Am I going crazy?

No, deep down, I knew something wasn’t right these past several months.

The whispered phone calls, the late nights at the office, the odd, unsolicited excuse about someone spilling perfume in the elevator.

I pushed it all away, ignoring the freight train heading this direction. I still don’t want to see it yet.

Addison poured me coffee this morning as I raced around my office trying to make sure I had all my I’s dotted and T’s crossed. Addison, blonde, beautiful, and years younger than me. She said I looked frazzled and smiled. How long has she been sleeping with my husband?

A notification chimes - meeting time. The Culver deal. I’m supposed to be showing off blue prints and hammering out an agreement because my husband/boss was supposedly going to be busy in other meetings all afternoon. He’s going to be busy at the Ritz-Carlton with Addison instead.

The pavement starts to sway under my slingbacks and the cars driving past make my head swim. I’m going to vomit. Or faint.

I do neither.

I start walking, my feet on autopilot until I look up and see the large glass and silver building before me with the name CULVER emblazoned across it. Don’t think, don’t feel. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when I do. Numb is better.

I push my way inside, a portfolio case tucked under one arm and my messenger bag slung over my shoulder.

I catch my reflection in the mirrored glass behind the reception desk.

On the outside, I look like a competent, well-dressed businesswoman ready to take on the world.

On the inside, I feel like the world’s biggest fool.

The receptionist says I can have a seat in the chairs just over there and Liam Culver will be down to greet me.

I’ve not met him yet but we’ve spoken over the phone a few times.

He seems charming and friendly. Several years younger than me, I think.

Either way, we clicked during those calls and I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.

But, the receptionist smiles at me and all I can see is Addison smiling as she passed me my coffee this morning. Maybe it would’ve been better if she’d poisoned it.

I set the portfolio down – What am I going to do?

My bag slips off my shoulder – why didn’t I march into that hotel lobby and snatch his balls off?

All the contents spill out onto the cold marble floor.

Strangers turn their heads but it’s the unopened pregnancy test that catches my eyes, mocking me.

He’d finally agreed we could start trying last month.

I’m one day late. I bought a test at the pharmacy around the corner before lunch.

That freight train arrives, slamming relentlessly into my heart just as someone says my name. “Mrs. Beaumont? It’s good to finally meet you.”

No, it’s not. Don’t call me by that name, I think, and I can’t breathe. My life is imploding while I’m sitting in some lobby meeting some stranger as other strangers pass by us.

“Juliana?” the same deep voice says, softer, closer. I know that voice. We’ve spoken over the phone. “Hey, I’m Liam. Are you okay?”

A pair of men’s Ferragamo loafers come into view. I’d bought Chad a pair like them at Christmas. He was wearing them when we kissed good morning in the kitchen. I said I loved him and he said it back. Did any of it mean anything? I think I might really vomit. Maybe all over Liam’s shoes.

Then, Liam kneels in front of me. He’s breathtakingly handsome with the most beautiful blue-green eyes and thick, golden brown hair. His worried expression helps me decide I won’t vomit. “Are you unwell, Juliana?”

“I need…” I swallow hard. “I need…” He’s going to think I’m having a stroke or something.

“Chrissy, call an ambulance!” he barks over his shoulder.

“No, I don’t need an-”

He doesn’t listen. He lifts me from the chair as if I weigh nothing at all.

He smells good and not at all like the scent my husband wears.

What an odd thing to fixate on. As Liam Culver carries me away from the curious stares of strangers, up a private elevator and into his corner office, I close my eyes and focus on his scent, his warmth and his strength instead of the fact that my marriage just ended.