Chapter One
One Year Later
Tonight, I wanted everything to be perfect.
The quiet kitchen was a cathedral, sunlight slanting through my own nervousness, and then—a sharp yelp broke the hush as my hand caught the edge of the oven’s hot glass.
Reflex saved me from a real burn, but my fingertip smarted, angry and red, pressed up to my lips.
Sucking at it did nothing, but it made me feel like I was doing something, like I was fixing the mistake.
A soft hum escaped me, shaky, as I started pulling plates from the cabinet above the sink.
Each one went down on the table like it was made of gold, every curve lined up, every glass glinting and flawless.
Even the tiniest slant made my heart lurch.
It had to be perfect. Especially tonight, of all nights.
Cam had been talking about the merger for weeks.
Some huge company. World-changing, or at least it felt that way for him.
Today was supposed to be the day—the day everything was official.
This dinner was meant to be a celebration.
Expansion, hundreds of new hires, a future full of “imagine the possibilities.” Only, it all sounded so big and far away, like every new success in his world just yanked him further out of reach, like the universe pulling loose from its own gravity.
Job hunting felt pointless now. My email was clogged with applications, all blending together in their bland, polite rejections.
Thirty-one years old and nothing but a general degree and a few college coffee shop shifts.
It made me feel small, invisible. Cam never pressed, never asked for details, just pictured a wife who was happy to stay home and play house, stuck in some dreamy old movie version of marriage.
And then there was the thing we didn’t talk about.
Surrogacy. Adoption. Two words that had become a deep, echoing gap.
We’d start to talk about adoption, and Cam’s phone would ring.
“Work emergency.” Or suddenly, he’d steer the conversation off the edge of a cliff.
More emergencies meant more late nights, more trips, more missing weekends.
Seasons shifted, months fell off the calendar, and the reassurance I needed just never came.
It hadn’t always been like this. After that diagnosis, we held onto each other tight.
There were midnight whispers, lazy hugs in the morning, little plans for getaways that never made it past the dreaming stage.
One by one, work snuffed them out. Our time together shrank, like wax burning down to nothing.
Each unanswered call left me a little more hollow.
Dinner was beautiful, at least. The roast was perfect, carrots and onions caramelized to gold, the mashed potatoes like clouds, asparagus crisp and green on the plate.
Peach cobbler for dessert, sticky and sweet, filling the house with a promise.
Cam’s favorites, all lined up. The clock was almost at six.
I poured the wine, checked my phone, glanced at the door. Waiting had its own ache. The phone flickered with battery checks and hope. Just one buzz, any sign he’d be home soon.
Instead, Rachel’s bubbly text:
We need a girl’s night, girl!
I winced. Honestly, I’d let our friendship rust. Worrying about Cam, about everything, had eaten up all my space for other relationships.
I sent back: This weekend?
Scrolling social media was a mistake. Every couple looked like a magazine ad: perfect smiles, perfect connection. Those memories with Cam felt faded, like they belonged to someone else’s life—not mine anymore. I sipped the wine and waited, and the clock crawled.
6:15. He was never late without a word. I refreshed my messages. Nothing. Not from Cam, anyway. Rachel again: Yes! We can go to that new club across town.
I wanted to laugh. I texted a quick “Alrighty,” but my head was still back at the table, still waiting for the click of Cam’s key in the door.
The roast smelled amazing, but my stomach was a knot. What if the merger had gone badly? What if something had happened? Social media was no comfort; every post just stung. I sipped again. Watched the sun bleed out, the dusk swallow the house. No headlights. No Cam.
Once more, I checked my phone. Still nothing. I tried not to panic, tried to play it cool. I texted: Are you on your way home yet? and set the phone down, my hand shaking just a little.
Minutes spun by in a hush. The wall clock kept ticking, but it sounded far away. When the phone buzzed, my heart jumped. Rachel again.
Yes! We can get dressed up and dance all night!
If only. Clubs felt like another world now. I typed a quick response, tried to picture stilettos and tight dresses, but that Olivia felt like someone I’d met once at a party and never seen again.
No car out front. No sign of Cam. The silence pressed in tighter.
I finally caved and called his cell. Three rings, then voicemail. The dread wasn’t small anymore. He’d seen it was me. Why not pick up? I left a message, my voice thin:
“Hey, baby. Didn’t say you’d be late, dinner’s ready. Call if you can—love you.”
The silence after was heavier than before. I drained my glass and poured another. Tried reading, but the words slipped away. The characters’ drama felt paper-thin compared to my own.
Nine o’clock struck, sharp as a slap. I dialed Cam’s work line, but nobody answered. Panic started to creep in, cold and slow. I called Janet, the secretary who’d been his right hand for years. Surely, Janet would know.
But an old woman’s voice answered, softer than I remembered. Retired. Five months ago. She hadn’t even said goodbye.
My stomach dropped. Lacey. The new name. I copied down the number with a shaking hand, feeling almost embarrassed. How had Cam not told me this?
When I called, the background was loud, like a party—or a restaurant, utensils against plates. A young woman answered, bright and efficient:
“Hello?”
“Hi, Olivia here. Cam’s wife. Is this Lacey?” My voice sounded too small.
“Yes, I’m Lacey. You said you’re Cam’s wife?”
“Yes. He was supposed to be home at six. I can’t get him on the phone. Have you heard from him?”
A pause. “No, I’m sorry. He left the office at the usual time. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Could you call me if you hear anything?” I hated how worried I sounded, but it bubbled up anyway.
“Sure thing. I’m sure he’s just out for a drink or something.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up, poured another glass, and just sat.
What was there to do? I could drive around, but that seemed more desperate than waiting right here.
Besides, what if he came home and I wasn’t here?
So I curled up on the couch, wrapped myself in a blanket, and let the wine soften the edges of my anxiety.
I must have nodded off, because the next thing I felt was a nudge against my arm. I groaned awake, blinking into the darkness before I shot up like a lightning bolt.
“Whoa there, Nelly. Slow down before you hurt yourself.” Cam’s voice was hoarse with exhaustion, but there was laughter in it too.
He stood by the couch, backlit by the hall light, tie loosened, suit all creased. Not relief on his face, just weariness.
“What time is it?” I managed, the words sticking to my tongue.
“Midnight. You must have crashed.” He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it over a chair.
“I was waiting for you. I called, I texted…” I trailed off, too tired to sound upset.
“Sorry, baby. My phone was off most of the night. Meeting ran late. We wrapped up the merger, finally.”
I wanted to feel happy for him. It was supposed to be good news. But all I could see was the untouched dinner, cold on the table. And all I could feel was my heart, beating too fast.
“I didn’t know. I made you dinner.”
He noticed then—the plates, the candles, the roses that looked silly now in the cold light.
“I’m so sorry. It just… got away from me.
Lacey’s a machine, honestly. She got me through a mountain of paperwork tonight.
Janet was great, but she was, you know…” He winced.
“She moved a little slower in the end. Lacey’s really on top of things. ”
My mouth went dry. “So Janet retired?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Yeah. I thought I told you that.”
“No. I called her tonight when I couldn’t find you. She said she hadn’t heard from you since you left the office.”
He started clearing plates with me, moving almost automatically, the words falling into the silence like crumbs.
“She lied. Lacey. Why would she tell me she hadn’t seen you?”
He froze, then gave a half-shrug, like it didn’t really matter. “You called Lacey?”
“I did.”
Pause. A glance. “She’s just efficient, does what she needs to do. I’ll ask her about it in the morning. Not a big deal.”
A sourness twisted in my gut, almost bitter. “Is she pretty?”
That finally drew a laugh, a weary half-grin. “Is my beautiful wife jealous?”
“Not jealous,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Just… concerned. Should I be?”
He stepped close, arms wrapping around me. “I love you. None of that matters.” His lips brushed my hair, the words warm but not quite enough to settle the ache.
I nodded, too tired to argue. It was easier this way. We finished up, the clatter of plates and silverware the only noise. We got ready for bed, both pretending that nothing was wrong. Maybe tomorrow there would be answers—or more questions.
In the dark, I closed my eyes and let the worries swirl away, just for a little while. Maybe if I wished hard enough, everything would be fine. Maybe I could sleep until the sun came up, and maybe in the morning, Cam would still be here. Maybe I’d finally get the truth.
But for now, it was enough just to pretend.