Chapter 17
Hey, gorgeous. Miss me?
Cecily
I collapse onto the bed the moment I hang up with Colin. After his jealous outburst yesterday, I didn’t even have the heart to tell him that Ethan asked to spend his birthday here, which means we won’t be heading back until tomorrow.
As expected, his reaction wasn’t good. But like I told him, Ethan rarely asks for anything, and there was no way I was going to say no.
Not today. Not on his birthday. I ended the call after promising him a video call when Ethan blows out the candles, clinging to that small concession like a peace offering.
When I heard Alicia tell him that a friend had stopped by, I knew jealousy would follow.
Colin has always been possessive. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of it, for the way his questions sharpened into something colder.
It felt less like concern and more like an interrogation.
Every word carried suspicion, as if he were already convinced of a crime I hadn’t committed.
What unsettles me most isn’t his jealousy. It’s the split second when I felt guilty. Guilty for nothing. Guilty simply for existing in a space where another man happened to be.
That guilt has no place here. Not when I’ve done nothing but love Colin. Not when I’ve stood by him, again and again.
Eventually, I force myself up, determined not to dwell on it, and head to the kitchen to bake my son’s birthday cake.
Seventeen years ago, on September 8th, I held Ethan in my arms for the very first time. All the fear I’d carried for months vanished the instant his eyes fluttered open. When they found mine, love rushed through me. Pure, overwhelming, unshakable.
Colin wrapped his arms around me then, his chest warm and solid against my back, his chin resting on my shoulder as he looked down at our son with such pride, such tenderness, that I believed we were untouchable.
In that moment, I knew we were going to be okay.
The world could fracture around us, but as long as we had each other, we would be safe.
I miss that.
I miss the certainty his gaze once gave me, the unspoken assurance that I wouldn’t have to face life’s storms alone. Back then, one look from him was enough to silence every doubt, to make me feel chosen. Loved. Seen.
Colin
Alicia and Ceci finish singing “Happy Birthday,” and Ethan leans forward to blow out the seventeen candles Ceci carefully placed on the cake she baked for him. Pineapple and strawberry, his favorite.
This is the first time I’m not beside him in that moment.
Even in the years when work ran late or traffic conspired against me, I always managed to arrive in time. To stand beside him. To watch him close his eyes and make a wish. I hate that this year I’m reduced to a face on a screen, that I couldn’t give him even that.
I school my features into something warm, something proud, not letting the disappointment show as Alicia darts toward the phone. She grabs it and turns the camera, her bright eyes and flushed cheeks filling the frame.
“Did you see everything, Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie,” I reply, forcing a smile that feels both genuine and heavy at the same time. “I saw it all.”
She smiles, unguarded, and it tugs at something deep in my chest.
“Can you pass the phone to your brother, honey?” I ask gently.
She nods, but before she does, the camera catches the kitchen behind her. Ethan is cutting the cake. Ceci stands nearby, wearing that soft smile she saves just for the kids… and me. She looks content. Peaceful.
Something twists in my gut before I can stop it.
I watch as he hands the first slice of cake to his mother, then leans in to kiss her cheek.
When he finally takes the phone, I say, “Happy birthday, son. You’re almost a man. When you get back, your present will be waiting for you.”
He looks away before answering. “Thanks, Dad. I know I’ll like it.”
It hits harder than I expect, the first time in weeks he’s called me Dad without sarcasm or disappointment cutting through the word. I swallow against the knot rising in my throat, clinging to it, needing to keep him here with me, even if it’s only through a screen.
“Don’t worry,” I add, forcing a chuckle. “It’s not a new car.”
The instant the words leave my mouth, I regret them. His jaw tightens. His shoulders go rigid.
“Okay,” I sigh, dragging a hand over my face. “Too soon. I was thinking… maybe we could do something together this weekend. All four of us. Do you already have plans with your friends?”
He nods. “We can go. Mom and Alicia will really like that.”
The message is clear. He’s agreeing for them. Not for me.
It hurts more than I want to admit, because I used to be his hero—the man he wanted to impress. Somewhere along the way, I lost that role. And I’m still not sure exactly when it happened.
He doesn’t linger. He hands the phone back to Ceci, and my chest tightens at how quickly I’ve become a formality in his life.
She talks to me for a few minutes. Her voice is soft. And yet, even as she smiles, I can feel the distance. The wall I helped build with every careless word, every late night, every time I chose to be somewhere else instead of here.
“I love you, Ceci,” I say softly. “I can’t wait to have all of you back tomorrow.”
I watch her closely, searching for the softness that used to come without effort. But her expression doesn’t shift. Her voice stays even.
“Love you, too. I’m going to hang up now, we have to get up early tomorrow.”
She said the words. That should be enough. She loves me. She said it.
Still, they land differently. Thinner. Lighter. As if something essential has been stripped away.
When she’s back. When I can hold her again, when her eyes meet mine without a screen between us, it’ll be different. It has to be.
I set the phone aside and fall into routine. Get ready for bed. Set my alarm. Plan to leave early so I can still make it back in time for dinner tomorrow.
I want to be the one waiting when they walk through the door—but I won’t be. Obligations don’t bend. Not for anyone.
There’s a company hemorrhaging money, buried under debt, but I can see the potential beneath the mess. It’s been steered by the wrong hands. Once Montgomery Clifford acquires it, we’ll revive it. We’ll make it thrive.
That’s the plan.
I pull back the covers, and my gaze lands on her side of the bed. Empty. Cold.
Is this what she feels every night when I don’t come home early?
The thought hits like a dull ache in my chest, and I can’t move for a long moment.
I hate it. Lying here alone, without her warmth, without the way she fits against me even when we’re angry. Even when she’s hurt.
I reach for her pillow, dragging it close, pressing my face into it. Her scent lingers, faint but still there.
I breathe it in, my chest tightening with something I refuse to name.
Clutching the pillow beside me, surrounded by Ceci’s scent, I close my eyes.
And in our bed, alone, I finally fall asleep.
“I’ve sent over the latest reports you requested. And Jonathan’s assistant dropped off a few documents for your consideration.”
Maya steps into my office after a precise three-knock rap. I look up just in time to catch her hand closing around the doorknob, already turning the lock.
“Leave it open, Maya. You won’t be long,” I say, my tone clipped. I made myself clear last time. What happened on the couch will not happen again.
She stills for a fraction of a second, then smooths her expression as if she can erase the misstep. She crosses the room and hands me the documents. I glance down, register another KPI report, and set it aside without comment.
I turn back to the balance sheet on my desk, intent on losing myself in columns and figures. But the prickle at the back of my neck tells me she hasn’t moved.
My jaw tightens.
“Is there something else you need?” I ask without looking up.
“You didn’t come to my apartment yesterday,” she murmurs.
I lift my head and pin her with a look that leaves no room for misunderstanding.
“I didn’t say I would.”
She leans forward, palms flat on my desk, closing the distance, her perfume teasing my senses. “You almost never tell me you’re coming over until you’re already on your way,” she murmurs. “You just show up. And I always make time for you.”
“Then don’t wait for me today,” I say, already pulling back.
That finally makes her falter. She straightens, folds her arms, then lets them fall again. “Why?”
I stop what I’m doing and meet her gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to turn uncomfortable. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Maya.”
Her lashes lower. Her mouth curves into a soft smile. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “I just missed you these past few days. That’s all.”
She hesitates for half a second before adding, almost casually, “Whenever you want to come by… or need me, just let me know.”
Her teeth catch her bottom lip.
I force my attention back to the numbers on my desk. “You can go, Maya.”
I don’t watch her leave. I don’t need to. Her perfume lingers long after she’s gone.
Spending the night at her place, sitting at her table, letting myself blur lines that should have remained uncompromised, was a setback. A dangerous one.
I bury myself in work until the clock creeps past five. When I finally shut down my computer, I gather my things, then press the green button on my desk phone.
“Maya, come to my office.”
She arrives too quickly, as if she’s been waiting just outside the door. I hand her a thin stack of papers. “Give these to Jonathan. And tomorrow, first thing, follow up with the Commercial team again. I need the final sales and revenue reports expedited.”
“Of course,” she says obediently, but her gaze doesn’t leave me, searching.
I grab my briefcase, slip my phone into my pocket, and head for the door.
“Are you leaving already?” she asks behind me. There’s hope threaded through the question.
I press the elevator button without turning. “Yes.”