Chapter 21
"Hello, Colin."
Colin
This thing with Maya is running its course.
After what nearly happened in my kitchen, I came closer than I’ll ever admit out loud.
I’d gone in looking for a moment of quiet…
and she appeared, as she always does, precisely when I’m most exposed.
The sight of her on her knees triggered something automatic, primal.
A Pavlovian reflex I haven’t quite learned how to untrain.
And then my eyes landed on the table.
The same table where Ceci and I have shared countless meals. Where our children have done homework, spilled drinks, laughed too loudly, sulked through arguments. Where ordinary life has left its fingerprints. That image snapped me back with the force of a cold hand at the back of my neck.
I would never allow that to happen in my home.
Not there. Not where Ceci and the kids live.
I could never.
It was a close call. A warning. A stark reminder that I’ve been playing with fire.
And still… I can’t deny how much I like the way it burns.
So for now, I let the flame flicker, close enough to feel the heat, far enough not to be consumed.
Maya’s been on edge these past few weeks.
That may explain what happened on Sunday.
I’ve been going to her apartment less, keeping the visits brief, never giving her quite as much of my attention as before.
With Margaret back, she’s lost the opportunity to play her little games at the office.
And yet, somehow, all of this has only intensified the sex—like my absence intensifies her hunger instead of dulling it.
Soon, maybe once a week will be enough.
And after that… nothing.
She can’t keep working this close to me. I need to speak to Teodora about it. Maya’s attempts to lure me over when I refuse have become more insistent, more brazen. Every time she touches me, it feels like she’s trying to leave her mark, as if proximity alone could stake a claim.
It doesn’t matter.
I belong to only one woman.
And that’s Ceci.
Ceci’s been spending more time away from home this week. If I didn’t know she was with her parents or one of her friends, I might almost think…
No. Not my Ceci. She would never.
Still, she buries herself in work at night, pouring hours into something we don’t even need financially. I can’t make sense of it. I hate watching her exhaust herself for nothing, but she doesn’t listen when I tell her to slow down.
Ethan, meanwhile, has slipped back into his ignoring-me routine. I can’t even pinpoint what set it off this time. It’s always the same, one wrong word, one misstep, and suddenly I’m the villain in his version of events.
I run a hand over my face, irritation tightening my jaw. Ever since Maya left my office earlier, after once again trying to convince me to come over tonight, I haven’t been able to focus on work.
Tomorrow we fly out early to San Jose, back late Saturday night. I even considered keeping the return flight for Sunday, as originally planned. But not now. Not with the way things feel at home.
I decide to call it a day and head out early. Take Ceci and the kids to dinner. Maybe if we go early enough, I can steal a little time alone with her afterward.
I’d suggested a date night, just the two of us, but Ceci insisted we bring the kids. Something we haven’t done in a while.
Perhaps it’s for the best.
Who knows… maybe even Ethan will finally stop giving me the cold shoulder.
I glance at Ceci, her eyes closed in the passenger seat.
Since we left the restaurant, she hasn’t said a word, just fastened her seatbelt and retreated into silence.
Alicia, meanwhile, fills the car with chatter, and I do my best to keep pace.
Ethan had a last-minute plan with his friends and didn’t come along.
I let his absence slide. Tonight, I only wanted peace. Still, I asked Ceci to speak with him and suggested we all try going out together again on Sunday.
Throughout dinner, Ceci kept the conversation anchored to Alicia and the plans she and Ethan have for the weekend.
She smiled the entire time, but it wasn’t joy that stayed with her.
It was something else. Nostalgia, maybe.
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, unsettled by a feeling I can’t quite place.
I pull into the garage, and we come in through the kitchen. Alicia offers a quick goodnight and disappears upstairs. Ceci starts to say something about checking on Ethan, but before she reaches the stairs, I take her hand and stop her.
“Dance with me?”
She blinks. “Dance?”
I smile. “Yes, my love.” I draw her gently toward me and set All the Way by Frank Sinatra to repeat on the living room system. With Ceci in my arms, our hearts falling into the same rhythm, it feels like this is how things were always meant to be.
“Do you remember the first time we danced to this?” I murmur as the melody loops again. “At our wedding?”
Her answer is so soft I almost miss it. “Yes.”
“Every time I touch you,” I say quietly, “every time I hold you, it still feels like the first time.”
I draw her closer, but before the song fades, Ceci slips from my arms. Her eyes shine, bright with tears she won’t let fall.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, lifting her face gently in my hands.
“My head is killing me. I just need to take something and sleep.”
I kiss her forehead, then scoop her into my arms. She rests her head against my shoulder as I carry her upstairs, Sinatra’s voice cutting into silence the moment I switch off the system with a quiet command.
While she changes, I look for her medication. Once she’s settled beneath the covers, I hand her a pill and a glass of water, my hand lingering on hers as if releasing it might fracture the moment.
I take the glass from her and lean down to kiss her forehead. “I’m just going to change. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, I slide into bed and draw her into my arms. She comes easily, without a word.
“You need to get this headache checked,” I murmur, my fingers threading through her hair. “It’s happening too often.”
Then I let the silence close in around us. If she won’t see a doctor soon, I’ll take her myself.
Her breathing steadies. Only then do I release a long breath of my own. I hate seeing her in pain.
“I love you, Ceci.”
I press one last kiss to her forehead and close my eyes, letting sleep take me, with her safe in my arms.
The moment the plane touches down in San Jose and we step off, I unlock my phone and call Ceci.
No answer.
She’s probably still asleep.
I send a text instead.
Me: Hope you wake up feeling better. Call me as soon as you can. I love you.
I collect our suitcases, and we find the driver without delay. During the entire ride, my gaze keeps drifting back to my phone. Still nothing from Ceci. Eventually, I decide to text Ethan.
Me: Keep an eye on your mom, okay? She wasn’t feeling well yesterday and has been dealing with a lot of headaches lately. I love you, son.
He reads it but doesn’t reply.
At least he saw it. At least I know he’ll be there if she needs anything.
Maybe I should have stayed home.
But when I told Ceci about this trip—unlike so many other times, when she’d ask how long I’d be gone or exactly when I’d be back—she barely reacted. As if it didn’t matter. As if my absence registered as nothing more than background noise.
It has to be exhaustion. That’s all.
By Christmas, I’ll make it right. I’ll carve out real time for us. For the kids. Maybe even a quick ski trip, something to pull us back together again. Something that reminds us of who we are when life isn’t moving at this relentless pace.
It’ll be good for us.
To reconnect.
Like in those days when the kids were younger, and everything felt slower. Simpler.
I’m in a meeting with a potential investor, just before we head to the convention, when my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket. Against my better judgment, doing the very thing I hate when others do it, I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Ceci: Sorry, I left my phone on the nightstand when I went downstairs. I’m feeling better, yes. We’ll talk later. Enjoy the trip.
Enjoy the trip?
What does she mean by that? Enjoy? It’s a work trip. There’s nothing to enjoy.
I type back immediately.
Me: Working hard so I can get home as fast as possible. Missing you so much. I love you.
She reacts with a heart. Nothing else. No words—just a single, silent heart.
I slide the phone back into my pocket and force my attention back to the conversation in front of me, but the sensation lingers. There’s something I’m overlooking.
I shake my head.
Tomorrow, I’ll be home. This feeling will fade.
Maya
We’re having dinner at the hotel restaurant, and Colin won’t stop looking at his phone.
Not once. I’ve tried talking to him about everything—work, the city, the convention—but his attention keeps drifting back to the screen, pulled there like a magnet.
I thought things would settle after he finally spoke to her during the convention, but it’s only gotten worse.
The call was quick, just him checking in, promising he’d be home soon.
He just forgot to mention that he’d be with me all night tonight, and all of tomorrow afternoon, before that happens.
I consider trying to force a conversation, but a better idea strikes me, something far more effective at dragging his focus away from that screen. I excuse myself, murmuring something about the restroom, and slip away from the table.
Inside the stall, I move quickly. I peel off my red lace panties and tuck them deep into the pocket of my blazer. I pause at the mirror, smoothing my hair and studying my reflection with a slow, predatory smile.
Let’s see if he can keep staring at his phone once I slip these into his pocket.
But when I return to the table, he’s already standing—and he isn't alone.