Chapter 14
September
Something has to change
Colin
The light turns red, and I almost miss it, my foot hovering over the brake as my mind drifts somewhere far from the road.
Maya sits in silence in the passenger seat. After I told her I needed silence, she stopped trying to fill the space and turned toward the window. It’s easier this way. Less to manage.
Still, even two days later, Saturday’s argument with Ceci keeps looping in my head, unrelenting and insistent, refusing to dull with time.
“What do you mean you’re not going to stop letting him use your old car so he can practice?” I ask her, incredulous.
She takes a steady breath before answering. “I’m not, Colin. When you said you were going to make an effort, this isn’t what I thought you meant. A car isn’t going to change anything. You should know your son better than that.”
The calmness in her tone, like she’s explaining something simple to one of our kids, only fuels my anger. “Ethan disrespected me. Letting him keep using the car, and then giving it to him once he has his license, feels like rewarding that behavior. We’re supposed to be a team, Ceci.”
Hurt flashes across her face, quickly followed by fury and disbelief. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”
She turns to leave and, without looking back, adds, “Ethan is keeping my old car. And if you truly want to reconnect with him, maybe it’s time you remember how to be his father. He’s not a child anymore. Superficial gestures won’t impress him.”
The door closes softly behind her, leaving me alone with the echo of her words and the weight of guilt settling heavy in my chest.
A little while later, I pass through the kitchen. Ceci is standing in front of the open fridge when I tell her I’m going to see Jonathan. She doesn’t turn around. I don’t wait for a response.
In the car, I text him, and we meet at a bar. Harper is visiting her parents, so I know he’ll be free. We drink. We talk. And for a few hours, I manage to pretend I’m not a failure—neither as a father nor as a husband.
Ceci and I barely spoke yesterday either, and that’s entirely on me.
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn’t have said them.
I didn’t even believe them. I let my anger do the talking, and when Ceci laid out truths sharp enough to draw blood, I reacted the only way I seem to know how…
by pulling away instead of stopping, owning my mistake, and apologizing.
Still, this whole situation with Ethan gnaws at me. I’ve lost my grip on him. And Ceci’s right, it’s as if I’ve forgotten how to be his father altogether. Ethan won’t budge an inch. He’s stubborn to the core.
Just like me.
At least, when I pulled Ceci into my arms both nights, after she’d already fallen asleep, she curled into me without resistance and slept peacefully against my chest.
She didn’t deserve my reaction. None of them deserve the half-version of me I’ve been offering.
The light turns green, and I drive on, pushing the thoughts aside. Less than five minutes later, I pull into the restaurant. Inside, the hostess greets us warmly and confirms our reservation.
“Colin.”
My stomach drops at the sound of that voice. I draw in a steady breath, schooling my expression before I turn.
“Phillip. What a surprise. What brings you to this side of the bridge?” I step forward and give him a half-hug.
He returns it easily, wearing that relaxed smile that has always seemed to come naturally to him. “I came to have lunch with an old friend. I was just leaving when I thought I recognized you and wanted to say hello.”
Only then does his attention shift, his gaze settling on Maya with mild curiosity. I don’t hesitate.
“This is Maya Fisher,” I say evenly. “She’s filling in for my assistant, who’s on medical leave. We’re meeting a client.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Maya hesitating, momentarily frozen in place.
“Maya,” I add, firmer now, “this is my father-in-law, Phillip Sterling.”
She extends her hand, her smile polite but strained, her complexion just a shade too pale.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sterling.”
“Just Phillip,” he replies warmly, giving her hand a brief tap before releasing it.
Perfect timing.
I spot the client and his two companions entering the restaurant. I lift a hand in greeting, then turn back to Phillip.
“My clients just arrived. I’m afraid I can’t stay and chat, I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
“Of course, of course,” Phillip says easily, then turns to Maya. “It was a pleasure, Mariah. Take good care of my son-in-law—and don’t let him bury himself in work. He’s a workaholic, this one.”
He chuckles, adding that we should arrange something soon, it’s been far too long.
As he walks away, I hear Maya murmur under her breath, barely audible, “It’s Maya. Not Mariah.”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She still wears the same unsettled expression. She blinks twice before looking at me. “Yes… I just—” She pauses, glancing around. “I need to freshen up. Is it okay if I meet you at the table?”
“Of course.”
I watch her walk away, frowning slightly, her reaction lingering in my mind. Is it because she knows Phillip is Cecily’s father, or is she simply not feeling well?
Either way, it doesn’t matter.
I head toward the clients, and moments later, we’re shown to our table.
Maya
He doesn't remember me.
He looked right into my eyes, and there was nothing. Not even my name sparked a flicker of recognition.
I’m staring at myself in the bathroom mirror now, tilting my head, searching my face from every angle to understand how this is possible. It’s as if he completely erased me… scrubbed me from his mind as if I never existed. How simple it must be for him.
I need to pull myself together before I go back out there to Colin.
Colin. I just hope he didn’t pay too much attention to my reaction. I can’t afford for him to see the cracks.
I touch up my makeup, masking the shock, and head back to the table.
I apologize to the group for the delay and take my seat at Colin’s left.
I bury myself in the work, focusing entirely on their conversation and taking the necessary notes, letting the professional routine shield me from the sting of being forgotten.
The following section includes a brief instance of mild on-page cheating. It is part of the story’s journey, but this moment may be difficult for some readers. Please feel free to skip it if it feels overwhelming.
"Are you sure you don't want to come up? Not even for a little while?"
Colin is driving me back to my apartment. I don’t always drive myself to work. Sometimes I leave my car behind, hoping he’ll offer me a ride, just so I can try to make him stay. Today is one of those days. I heard him on the phone yesterday, arranging dinner at his in-laws’ place for tonight.
"I can't," he says, eyes on the road. "If you're home tomorrow, I'll try to stop by after I go over some contracts."
“You know my Saturdays are all yours,” I say, letting a knowing smile play on my lips.
He smiles back but stays silent. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach over to his side.
“Maya. Don’t even think about it.”
His mouth says one thing, but the heat through his slacks tells a completely different story. I ignore the warning, unbuckling his belt and lowering the zipper. My hand wraps around his cock, stroking him slowly, feeling his pulse jump beneath my palm.
The moment he pulls into a secluded corner of my building’s parking lot, I lean over, starting slow, alternating suction with slow licks along the tip.
When I take him into my mouth, deep enough to make me gag, his fingers thread into my hair and he groans.
I work him with intent, settling into the pace I know he loves.
“Fuck… Maya… that mouth of yours,” he says, his voice breaking, rough and low, as he comes.
With one last lick, I clean him off and slip back into my seat. I slowly drag my tongue over my lips, catching his gaze. He watches me through half-lidded eyes, still drifting in the hazy afterglow of the orgasm.
The sudden slam of a car door nearby startles us both, and we snap our eyes forward. We wait until the person walks off, then look at each other and laugh, a shared, secret sound in the stillness of the car.
He shakes his head, adjusting his clothes. “Lucky for you these windows are tinted. You’re trouble.”
I grin, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth.
“At least I got a taste of you today. See you tomorrow.”
I step out of the car, the smile still fixed on my face as I watch him pull away. I know he’ll be back.
Cecily
Colin stands on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with my father about a corruption case that’s been dominating the headlines.
He made it home just in time—ran upstairs for a rushed shower and a change of clothes before we left.
In his haste, he passed me on the stairs without even pressing a kiss to my forehead.
It shouldn’t matter. And yet, it does.
There’s something different about him tonight. I can’t quite name it, but I feel it all the same. He’s always been devoted to his work, and as the company keeps growing, the demands only multiply. Still… has it ever taken this much of him before?
And yet, when we’re together, he’s still the same man.
But he’s not.
Every time it feels like we’ve found our rhythm again, a wall rises between us and we drift apart once more.
The argument over the weekend didn’t help.
Instead of facing it, he’s been avoiding it entirely.
Lately, our conversations stay carefully contained within safe territory.
His work, a social obligation, vague questions about my articles, the logistics of our days.
When I stop to really think about it, I struggle to remember the last time we talked about something that truly mattered.
Or the last time we made plans, real ones, together.
Something has to change.
I’m not sure what wakes me, but as my awareness comes into focus, I hear Colin moving around the room, careful, quiet, trying not to wake me. I glance at the clock on the nightstand.
6:30 a.m.
After we got home from dinner at my parents’ house last night, we argued again. I let myself believe, briefly, that he might stay this morning. That he might at least sit down for breakfast before leaving for work.
A few minutes later, I hear his footsteps approaching the bed. I close my eyes and slow my breathing, hoping he’ll think I’m still asleep. I don’t trust myself to meet his gaze. I don’t trust myself not to ask him to stay.
I feel his lips brush my forehead.
“I love you,” he whispers.
The door closes softly behind him.
I open my eyes.
6:38.
I wait ten full minutes, long enough to be certain he isn’t coming back, before I push myself out of bed. My movements are precise. Controlled.
I cross the room, open the closet, and pull one of the smaller suitcases from the shelf. It lands softly on the floor.
Then I begin filling it with clothes.