2. Chapter Two | Savannah
Chapter two
Last September Four months prior to penthouse discovery
Slightly shaking my hair out after flipping my head upside down, I assess the results of my effort, and boy did I put in effort today. I know I’m a beautiful woman, but tonight, I’m a damn knockout.
I set the dining room table to look like a picnic table.
Back when we first started dating, Shane and I used to love getting carry out from a local diner near his place and eating on the rooftop of his condo building.
There wasn’t a proper dining table up there, and half the time I wasn’t sure we were even supposed to be up there, but Shane would bring a blanket and we would have a private picnic.
I smile at the memory of how simple things were between us back then.
I’m hoping to bring a little piece of that magic back tonight .
We met shortly after I started working as a marketing executive for a large advertising firm in Nashville and he was a rising attorney at what was then Brown and Lewis, before Shane was promoted to named partner a couple of years ago.
But back then, we were both focused on our careers and loved everything about living in the heart of Nashville.
We went out to parties, award shows, and incredible concerts.
We had so much fun together and being with him was so easy, it was a foregone conclusion that he was the one for me.
Any relationship prior to him was always so much work and I always had to sacrifice or settle, but not with Shane.
He met every requirement, fulfilled every request, and was everything I was looking for back in my twenties.
Or … at least, I thought he was.
But we’ve built a good life—a great life, really.
Every day may not look like the happily ever after I imagined when I was younger, but that’s life.
It’s not always easy, or fun, or honestly even good.
Some days are messy and hard. Despite being married with three beautiful children, and having a close-knit family that is nearby, sometimes I find myself feeling lonely in my own house.
I don’t like to dwell on those feelings and often have to remind myself that it must be perfectly normal to feel this way.
But tonight is for celebrating and it should be a happy evening.
It’s our thirteenth wedding anniversary, and I blocked our dinner off on Shane’s calendar six months ago.
I also made sure his assistant confirmed it on his schedule three days ago, so he should be walking through the door any minute.
I run a hand down the front of my dress, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.
The navy wrap dress is forgiving enough with my generous curves that you can’t immediately tell that I’m wearing lingerie under it, but I’m excited to surprise Shane with it tonight after dinner—or maybe even before dinner is served.
When was the last time we had sex outside of the bedroom? It’s been far too long if I can’t even remember when or where it was.
I specifically ordered tonight’s matching lingerie set in Shane’s favorite color, deep emerald green.
He has commented multiple times over the years that it made me look like a goddess whenever I wore this specific shade, and tonight, I want him to remember us, to remember our passion and our love, and how we used to be before we were busy with his career and our kids.
We were a team, just the two of us. We need to get back to that place in our relationship and remember that all of this is because we fell in love with each other.
I smile with anticipation of seeing my husband—and his reaction to his present under my dress.
I check the clock over the stove. Hmmm, I thought he would be home by now, but I guess he isn’t technically that late.
I light some candles on the dining room table and turn on the music so the vibes are perfect.
The salmon is resting but I don’t want the roasted vegetables to get cold, so I decide to wrap them in foil and stick them in the oven on low.
While I wait, I decide to pour myself a glass of wine.
It’s not the same wine we would have shared back in the days of our rooftop picnics, but like a lot of things in life, our tastes and preferences have evolved and changed throughout the years.
I personally think my preferences have evolved for the better, even if my wine taste is much more expensive these days.
One glass turns into two, but my husband still isn’t home.
I try calling him but it just rings before going to voicemail.
I don’t make a habit of it, but I decide to call the main office line.
A receptionist I know answers the phone and sends my call back to a conference room.
It rings twice before one of the junior partners that Shane often works with answers it.
Kyle puts me on hold, and a few minutes later, my husband finally surfaces.
“Hi, babe. I’m sorry. I know, I’m late. I saw the dinner on the calendar, but we had a big break in the case this afternoon and tomorrow’s cross examination has to be flawless.
” Shane is one of the highest paid white-collar criminal defense attorneys in the entire state.
He’s very good at his job, but it also requires him to be extremely dedicated to his position .
“That’s great, but did you notice the date on the calendar? This dinner was important to me, can you please wrap up your meeting and come home, honey?”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Listen, tell whoever’s birthday it is that I’m sorry I missed it, and I’ll catch the next Callahan gathering, lord knows there’s enough of them.
Have fun with your family and I’ll try to be quiet when I get home.
Give the girls a kiss from me.” Is he serious right now?
I’m stunned at his dismissal of my request and by the fact that my husband has absolutely forgotten it is our wedding anniversary.
“Thanks for always being so understanding, babe. Love you, but I really need to get back to it. I’ll talk to you later. ”
“Oh. Uh … okay.” And before I can even say anything else, I hear the phone getting set back in the cradle except it doesn’t disconnect the call, the handset must be slightly ajar.
I hear Kyle ask Shane, “Is everything okay at home? Do you need to go? We can continue this in the morning.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just my wife being high maintenance because I missed some dinner thing that she put on my calendar, but it’s fine. If she’s pissed about it tomorrow, I’m sure some designer handbag will buy my ticket out of the doghouse.”
Laughter.
There’s laughter at his comment and I can’t be sure, but I think one of the laughs I hear belongs to my own husband. “Can someone pull up the report the detective referenced in his testimony today? No, not that one, the revised version that he mentioned regarding the—”
I hang up before I hear even more how seamlessly my husband discarded my requests and try to keep my composure as the reality that he has totally forgotten our wedding anniversary sinks in.
And how easily he dismissed me.
I take a deep breath; I look around my empty house and decide I don’t really need to hold back the tears because no one is going to see them anyway.
I’m not hysterical, but as I clean up dinner and put away the food, a steady stream of tears flows down my face as I host an epic pity party for myself.
I grab the remaining wine and step out to my favorite lounger by the pool to drink my sorrows away for a bit.
An hour after speaking to my husband, he still isn’t home. There was a small glimmer of hope that he would realize the date, figure it out, and rush home to apologize, but eventually, that glimmer burns out like the candles I extinguished after the phone call.
I lock up the house and head upstairs. I wipe off my perfectly applied makeup that no one saw and grab a scrunchie to throw my hair into a loose bun piled up on my head.
But as I brush my teeth, I decide I may be letting him off the hook just a little too easily.
He wants to dismiss and overlook me? That’s a bold yet foolish decision on his part.
Who does he think he married?
After all, if I’m already labeled the high-maintenance wife then a little drama doesn’t matter if it makes me feel better.
I grab the brightest ruby red lipstick I can find in my makeup bag and write in obnoxiously large cursive Happy 13 th Anniversary across the bathroom mirror.
I turn out the lights and crawl into bed alone.
Not even my Kindle can cheer me up, and after reading the same page three times, I give up.
With a huff, I lay down and curl into a ball on my side, facing away from my husband’s side of the bed.
My eyes will be puffy and red in the morning, but I can’t stop the tears.
Forget high maintenance, I know he treats his staff that he doesn’t even like better than he treated me tonight.
I swipe the tears blurring my vision, feeling completely alone.
He didn’t just overlook our anniversary, tonight he overlooked his wife while also breaking her heart a little in the process.
The warm trail of tears creates a small puddle on my pillowcase, and I don’t even try to swipe them away at this point. This is definitely not how I ever imagined happily ever after to look like in my life … and it’s not at all how I thought it would feel.