Chapter 5
Shannon
My thank you, love you, appreciate you text from Friday went unanswered and when Gregor opened the nameplate, he gave me a tight smile—the fake kind that screamed aww, sweetie, aren’t you cute—and told me It’s a nice gesture, but this is a Maxwell Scott briefcase, Shan.
I can’t affix the nameplate or I risk ruining the leather.
Of course, there was no gratitude for keeping the house clean or taking care of the car, either, as it’s just become expected.
I’ve officially lost the ability to reach my husband, and things only get worse when we show up to the company dinner the following night.
Gregor holds his arm out for me when we arrive at the restaurant and I take it dutifully.
I’m wearing the newest pair of earrings he gifted me as well as his favorite dress.
The neckline on this dress is definitely what I would consider plunging and it makes me uncomfortable, but I’m working on ways to show my husband that I’m trying and it always makes him happy when I garner attention.
The hostess leads us to the private dining room where my husband’s colleagues and their wives are all seated around the long table. It isn’t lost on me that all the wives are sitting silently by their husband’s sides as the men discuss sports, politics, and cigars.
Everyone says hello and shakes Gregor’s hand before he pulls my chair out for me. Every time we get together, the men’s eyes rake over my body—just like they are right now.
Immediately, I regret my wardrobe decision.
John Cox is sitting next to me on the side opposite from Gregor, and he’s the worst of them all. It takes less than four seconds for him to turn his attention to me and ogle my cleavage. I’m burning this dress as soon as I get home.
“John, my eyes are up here,” I reprimand the arrogant attorney quietly.
At least I thought it was quietly, but I feel Gregor bristle beside me.
John just laughs before leaning in too close. “And as beautiful as they are, they don’t hold a candle to your rack.” He doesn’t even try to keep his voice down.
My nostrils flare in anger, but what pisses me off more than his words, is my husband’s silence. If he heard my comment to John, there’s no way he didn’t hear John’s response to me. And instead of sticking up for me, he continues his conversation as if John’s comment is acceptable.
“That’s completely inappropriate,” I tell him, coming to my own defense.
He gives me a slimy smirk. “When your name is on the door of the state’s most powerful law firm, the lines get a little blurry.” The bastard squeezes my thigh under the table, causing me to jump. Silverware clangs loudly as I slide my chair back and excuse myself to the restroom.
When I don’t return after several minutes, my phone vibrates in my clutch.
Greg
Stop being so dramatic. Your absence is making a scene.
Shannon
John Cox’s words are making the scene!
Can we leave? Please?
Greg
No. This is a business meeting.
Shannon
Can I take the car then? You stay.
Greg
Jesus, he hit on you. So what? It’s a compliment Shannon. He wishes his wife was as hot as you.
My vision is painted red. Is my husband really justifying the actions of the man who just groped me? I huff out a humorless laugh. Greg loves having something other men—especially his partners—want.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I don’t respond until I’m in the Uber heading home, reevaluating my entire life.
Shannon
I’ve gotten a ride. I’ll see you at home.
Greg
You have got to be kidding me. You’ve made me look like a fool in front of the partners.
I’m thankful I hold it together long enough to dismiss my mother-in-law from watching Serafina before I hug my daughter to my chest as hot tears spill down my cheeks, feeling like I’m at my absolute lowest.
As if sensing I’ve hit my breaking point, Serafina snuggles against me. Her perfect, tiny fingers dig into my skin and something clicks into place. Like she and I have reached an understanding.
Isn’t that ironic? The gift I’ve resented the most from Gregor is becoming the thing that makes me aware of how badly things need to change.
In this moment, she’s the one thing that makes me want to fight for myself as much as I want to fight for her.
If she were in a marriage like mine, I’d probably beg her to leave… or kill her husband with my bare hands.
After getting myself under control, I finally take my daughter through her bedtime routine and an hour later, I climb in the shower. I’m in the middle of shaving my legs when the bathroom door opens.
“Shan, it’s just me,” Gregor calls as he comes into view and takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub.
I stay quiet. I have nothing nice to say.
“Shannon, I’m sorry. I don’t—”
“Save it, Greg,” I cut him off and pray my voice stays steady.
He scrubs a hand down his face and I hear his exhale over the running water.
“You treated me no better than you would a paid escort tonight. I am your wife, not some pawn to be used to make you the envy of those assholes you call colleagues.”
“Christ, I said I’m sorry, Shannon. What’s with the attitude?”
Great, we’ve moved on to gaslighting.
Again, I stay silent, knowing my words won’t help this situation. I finish my shower and slip into pajamas with long pants and long sleeves, not wanting any part of my skin to touch my husband tonight.
I’ve really come to enjoy Serafina and I’s walks at the lake.
Besides the sandy area, there are also some gorgeous, easy hiking trails.
It’s been nice to get out of the house and the beauty is that she and I are both so exhausted over the whole ordeal that naptime has been easier and she sleeps a little longer, the sun and heat draining us both.
It’s not much, but starting to find a routine with my daughter feels like a major win.
Serafina goes down as soon as she’s horizontal in her crib and I take a moment to just stare at her. A small amount of awe over her perfect features finally hitting me. I run my hand over her head before going back downstairs, choosing to forgo my own nap today.
With Gregor’s advance notice of a surprise—his latest bribe after his shitty behavior at his company dinner a few nights ago—I’d like to catch the delivery guy today.
I owe him an apology for my insane behavior over the last couple weeks.
The man probably dreads coming to this house and I don’t want that to be the case.
I even put on real clothes and a little bit of makeup just to prove that I’m not that crazy person all the time.
Sure enough, shortly after I lay Serafina down, I hear the light rap of knuckles on the glass part of my heavy front door and see his brown uniform through the pane. The color is hideous, but he wears it well.
Opening the door, I watch as he fights with himself to keep his eyes from trailing down my body over the light blue t-shirt and shorts I’m wearing. The shirt is fitted, but not revealing, yet a rush of warmth heats my skin before he subtly shakes his head and his eyes find mine.
Oh my God, his eyes.
I had to have been a complete zombie to have missed his eyes. Amber irises, so golden they should mark the end of a rainbow, stare back at me.
“Do you wear contacts?” I blurt the rude question before I can stop myself.
He flashes a shy smile, but doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
“I do, actually, but they aren’t colored if that’s what you’re wondering.”
My head jerks back in surprise. “Wow…”
When I fail to produce anymore words, he holds up his signature pad.
“Got another one for you,” he says, grinning while his jaw works to chew his gum.
Finally finding words and remembering that I’m a married woman, and this man probably has a family of his own, considering his previous comments about knowing how hard getting babies to sleep can be—I tease, “I assumed this wasn’t a social call.” I shock myself when I even throw in a wink.
The look on his face is priceless.
“Oh, no, that’s not what I—” he says quickly, but I cut him off.
“Relax,” I say, still smiling. “It was a joke. I know based on my behavior the last couple of times you’ve been here, you probably don’t think I’m capable of those, but I’m finally finding a routine with my daughter and am feeling a little more in-touch with reality these days.
” The only reason I can think of for the need to explain myself is because of the flowers he brought a couple weeks ago.
I owe him. That’s it.
Instead of looking at me like the complete weirdo I’m being, he holds out his hand for me to shake.
Something about him feels familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
Maybe it’s just the ease with which he carries himself.
He engages in every interaction like it’s exactly where he belongs and the more I watch him, the more I want to watch him.
Which is dangerous, because he emits those carefree surfer vibes I’m such a sucker for harder than anyone I’ve ever seen...including half the surfers I’ve been with.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re finding solid ground. Hudson Goddorah,” he says, introducing himself. His smile is completely disarming. White teeth set in a tan face. His honey-colored hair is a little shaggy in that devil-may-care kind of way.
“Goddorah?” I ask slowly, pumping his hand twice more before finally letting go. “Like the three-headed monster from Godzilla?”
He smirks, his answer coming readily, telling me he must get this reaction a lot.
“Yep. Pronounced the same, spelled differently, and of course, I only have two heads.”
His statement makes me pause.
“You only have two hea—” It clicks. “Ah. Got it.” I chuckle. “Clever.”
He continues casually chewing his gum on my doorstep like he didn’t just reference his dick. My skin heats from head to toe.
Gregor would be appalled.
Maybe that’s why instead of being repulsed like I should be, I find myself still laughing.
“And I know you already know this, but I’m Shannon.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Shannon.” Hudson smiles and those straight white teeth flash at me again. “I’m happy to see you’ve found that routine. Sleep looks good on you.”
My cheeks grow hotter.
“I’m really sorry about the tears last week. The kindness of the flowers sort of pushed me over the edge. I swear I’m not usually so…” I wave my hands in the air, searching for the word I want, but come up short.
“Sleep-deprived?” he offers, finishing my sentence.
“Yes, among other things,” I admit. “Please accept my apology for yelling at you.”
“No apology necessary.” His easy smile is still in place.
His nonchalant attitude intrigues me. Doesn’t he have a thousand things weighing him down? Isn’t life weighing him down? He can’t make that much money driving a delivery truck. Isn’t he stressed financially?
Oh God, I sound like Gregor.
Still smiling as if this is the highlight of his day, he says, “Can you sign here?”
I take the small pad and look at his now-empty hands, peeking around the edge of the door to the porch as well. “Where’s the package?”
“This one’s pretty big. I couldn’t manage it and the computer at the same time. You sign and I’ll run back for it.”
After signing my name on the line, Hudson leaves my porch, climbs in the back of his truck, and roots around, finally hopping out and pulling a large box toward himself. He braces it on his thighs before tipping it into his arms.
His biceps flex around the box which is digging into his upper thigh, causing his shorts to ride up, exposing more of his quadriceps.
Oh God. Is that a tattoo peeking out?
Lord above, I’m checking out my delivery guy.
“I’ll set it inside the door for you,” Hudson says, climbing the stairs with the box a minute later. “Although I’m certain you’re strong enough to carry it, lifting it is awkward and a bit of a bitch.” He laughs.
I open the other door so he has more room and am mesmerized as he drops into a full squat to gracefully set the box on my hardwood floor.
“Thank you.” My words are far too breathy.
“Pleasure’s all mine.” His words are too deep and husky.
Once Hudson is gone, I go straight for my vibrator. I’ve got to figure out how to get back on track with my husband before my lonely lady parts cause me to do something reckless…like my delivery guy.