Chapter 15
Mommy's friend
Colin
It’s just past noon when I reach for my phone on my desk. I should start wrapping things up and head home soon.
Ceci and the kids will love the surprise.
A smile starts to form when I see her name on the screen. It vanishes the moment I read the text.
Ceci: Taking Ethan and Alicia to the Hamptons. We’ll be back Monday.
I read it again. Then once more.
The words refuse to settle, like they’ve been arranged incorrectly.
She wouldn’t do this impulsively. Not without a plan. Not without telling me first.
We talked about it yesterday. I was clear, as soon as my schedule opened up, we’d go. Together.
My jaw tightens as the implication lands, this wasn’t spontaneous.
It was a decision made without me.
“Even my mom noticed there’s something off between you and Ethan. You barely interacted during dinner.”
We’re getting ready for bed. I’d been counting on a peaceful night, on the simple comfort of having her in my arms. She let me make love to her yesterday, the first time all week, after she finally stopped freezing me out.
Ellen, Ceci’s mother, is everything a mother should be: caring, loving, attentive, and stern when she needs to be. I like her. I respect her.
But I won’t let her dictate how I raise my children.
“I hope you told her that’s between me and Ethan,” I say flatly, watching Ceci’s back for any reaction.
She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, finishing her skincare routine.
“My mom has a nose for trouble,” she says, her shoulders slumping.
“I didn’t need to tell her anything.” She hesitates, then adds, “I want to take them to the Hamptons tomorrow. We could come back Sunday night… or even earlier.”
I shake my head. “I have extremely important contracts to review tomorrow. I can’t.”
This time, she doesn’t bother hiding her disappointment. “And you can’t take them with you and review them there? Or something?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, Ceci. You know I deal with sensitive, confidential information. The kind that could ruin fortunes if it fell into the wrong hands.”
“And what about your absence ruining your relationship with Ethan?”
The words cut deeper than I expect.
“Colin,” she continues softly, “this is his last year at home. Once he goes to college, the distance will only grow.”
She places her hand on my chest. I see it all in her eyes—the hurt, the fear, the faint, stubborn hope.
I need to take care of these contracts tomorrow. I can figure something out after.
Before I can say anything, she must read the refusal already set in my expression. Her hand slips from my chest. Head bowed, she turns and walks back into the bedroom.
I stay where I am, listening as she pulls back the covers and slides into bed. When I finally join her, she’s still awake, turned away from me. I wait until her breathing evens out, then gently pull her against my chest.
I press a kiss to her hair and whisper, “I promise tomorrow I’ll put a smile on your face… and the kids’ too.”
On the way to the office, an idea struck me: Smorgasburg in Prospect Park.
The kids used to love it there. Ethan would refuse to leave without sampling at least ten different things, Alicia thrived on anything that involved open space and nature, and Ceci enjoyed anything we did together as a family.
It would have been perfect.
I’d meant to text Ceci—to tell her to wait for me at home, that I’d be there before two with a surprise for the kids—but traffic slowed me down. By the time I reached the office, my attention had already shifted to one goal, finishing early so I could spend the afternoon with my family.
If I’d sent that text, she wouldn’t have taken the kids to the Hamptons.
But how could I have known?
Ceci never acts like this. She plans our trips meticulously. She keeps me informed, even when I can’t go.
I read her text again, and only then do I register what isn’t there. No good morning. No I love you.
Even when I’m frustrated, even angry, I always tell her how I feel.
I call her. No answer.
I try again. Still nothing.
A third time, straight to voicemail.
I check the time stamp. 8:11 a.m.
Maybe she sent it from home. Maybe they were still on the road. But she didn’t call—she texted. My phone is always on silent during work hours, but she could’ve called the office. I would have picked up.
There’s no use dwelling on it now. I set my phone on the desk and force myself to focus.
Two hours pass. Then more.
Nothing.
Unease settles in my chest. I pull up the Hamptons house number and call. No answer.
My pulse spikes at the thought. Something could have happened.
No. That’s irrational.
I try Ceci’s phone again. Then Ethan’s. Then the house once more.
On the second attempt, Abigail answers on the third ring.
“Abigail,” I say, cutting straight through her greeting. “Has Ceci arrived with the kids?”
“Oh! Mr. Colin—yes,” she replies brightly. “They arrived a few hours ago. I helped Cecily put together a picnic basket, and they went down to the sea for the day.”
Relief crashes through me, but it’s short-lived. I’ve been spiraling over nothing. They’re fine. At the beach. Having a picnic.
I inhale slowly. “Did she take her phone with her?”
“No, sir. She asked me to put it on the charger when they arrived. Would you like me to bring it to her?”
“No,” I say curtly. “Just ask Ceci to call me as soon as they’re back. Thank you, Abigail.”
I hang up before she can respond.
The frustration settles in fully now. There’s no point pretending I can work like this. I shut down my computer, clear my desk, grab my things, and leave the office.
The door slamming behind me harder than necessary.
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.
Maya opens the door with a bright smile, barely giving me a chance to knock.
"You're early," she says, her voice light with a satisfaction she doesn't bother to hide.
I walk past her without a word. I drop my wallet, keys, and phone onto the coffee table, followed by a strip of condoms. They hit the surface with a clinical thud. I’m already unbuttoning my shirt, my focus narrowed down to a single, precise point of intent.
"Take off the dress," I tell her.
She obeys, pulling it over her head with slow, deliberate movements. She isn’t wearing a bra. Her full breasts sway as she moves, leaving her standing in nothing but a scrap of lace panties.
I let my gaze linger, dragging over her curves, assessing the skin I’m about to claim.
"Lose the rest. Sit down. Play with yourself."
Her breath catches, a ragged hitch of air, but she does exactly what she’s told. She spreads herself open, showing me how slick she already is, her fingers working to make herself even more ready for me. She begins to moan, a soft, needy sound that should make my blood roar.
It does, in a way. I can feel the familiar pull, my cock getting hard in an instant, but it’s not enough to drown out the noise in my head. Even as she offers herself to me, my focus is fractured. My eyes keep sliding back to the phone on the coffee table, waiting for a glow that hasn't come.
I should be lost in her. I should be present in the way her body arches for me, in the desperate, beautiful way she’s trying to bridge the distance I’ve put between us. But the silence from that device is louder than her moans.
No missed calls. No texts. Nothing from Ceci.
I grind my teeth, the muscle in my jaw tamping down a sharp spike of irritation.
Maya moans louder, the sound finally cutting through the static in my head and dragging my attention back to the room.
I rip open a condom with a tight sense of urgency, roll it on, and cross the space between us in two strides.
My hand clamps around the back of her neck, tilting her head back to expose the line of her throat as I kiss her deeply, forcefully—smothering her sound with my own.
"Bend over the couch," I command, my voice a low, rough rasp.
She moves instantly. I push into her, hard and fast, driving myself into her heat with a desperate, silent need for oblivion. I want the friction to burn away the guilt, the brutal force of my need to drown out the doubt. I just want to be anywhere but inside my own head.
I check my phone the second I step out of the shower. Nothing. No new texts, no missed calls. The silence is starting to grate on me.
I start getting dressed in the clean gym gear from the duffel bag I keep in my trunk. Maya went down to the car to retrieve it for me while I finished up in the bathroom.
I’m pulling on a T-shirt when she appears in the bedroom doorway. She’s changed into a loose, airy dress, the kind that moves with her body, flowing with every step. I don’t need to ask to know there’s nothing underneath it.
"I’m starving," she says. "I’m going to make something. Stay and eat with me?"
I nod. Her joy is instantaneous. She crosses the room to kiss me, her gratitude evident. It’s an invitation she offers every Saturday, and one I always decline. I don't do dinner; I don't complicate the arrangement, and I always have someone to return to. But today, that isn't the case.
Maya practically skips out of the room. I pick up my phone again. Still nothing. I wait another thirty minutes, sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the blank screen as if I can force it to light up. Ten more minutes of silence pass. I can’t take it anymore.
I step into the hallway, away from the soft music playing in the kitchen where Maya is cooking, and I dial.
When the line finally picks up, I don't lead with a greeting. "Ceci, why haven’t you answered or returned my calls?"
"It’s me, Daddy!" Alicia’s voice explodes with excitement on the other end. "Mommy’s in the shower and asked me to answer."
I close my eyes, the tension in my shoulders finally beginning to drain. "Hi, princess. Are you having fun at the beach?"