9. Pierce
PIERCE
I stood in the nursery and checked my phone again.
Another missed call, this time from someone at the office.
I frowned at the screen, then dismissed it with a swipe of my thumb.
Whatever it was could wait. My schedule had been packed all day, meetings stacked one after another, and people knew I didn't pick up during those blocks.
They could leave a message if it mattered.
Small things always felt urgent to someone else, but that didn't make them urgent to me.
The nursery was quiet around me, the walls painted a smooth, cool gray that Sienna had chosen.
She'd handled all of it — the paint, the furniture, the curtains that let in the right amount of light without washing out the room.
Hannah had been upset about that, about not being consulted, but I'd told her Sienna's version was easier, that it was practical and already done.
It made sense to let her do her job. Hannah could focus on the baby, and Sienna could focus on making sure the room was ready. Division of labor. It was practical.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and turned toward the door, ready to head downstairs. My hand was on the frame when something caught my eye — a ring on the shelf beside the gray stuffed elephant, just sitting there in the light.
I stopped.
Hannah's wedding ring.
I picked it up, the metal cool against my skin, and turned it over in my palm.
The diamond caught the light and threw small rainbows across my hand.
The inside was engraved with our initials and the date we'd gotten married.
My chest went tight for a second, my pulse kicking up before I could stop it.
I closed my fist around the ring and felt the edges press into my skin.
Don't be an idiot, I told myself. There was a reason for this. There had to be.
Maybe she'd taken it off to wash her hands.
That happened, didn't it? Women took their rings off sometimes when they were cleaning or doing something with their hands.
Or maybe the pregnancy had made her fingers swell and it didn't fit right anymore.
She could have set it down and forgotten about it.
People forgot things. It didn't mean anything.
That was all. That was the only thing that made sense.
I looked around the nursery, but nothing else was out of place.
The crib stood against the far wall, assembled and waiting.
The dresser beneath the window had its drawers neatly closed, the top clear except for a small lamp Sienna had picked out.
Everything was exactly the way it had been this morning when I'd glanced in here on my way out.
I hadn't seen Hannah before I left for the office — she'd been asleep, or at least still in bed, and I'd left early to beat the traffic into the city. We hadn't spoken since yesterday.
Since that conversation where she'd told me what she thought she'd overheard from Sienna, and I'd explained to her that she was reading too much into it.
Work wife was a joke, nothing more. People said it all the time in business.
It didn't mean anything. Sienna ran my events and kept my calendar straight and made sure I didn't miss the details that mattered.
That was her job. Hannah tended to blow these things out of proportion, to take something small and turn it into a mountain.
She was sensitive. She always had been. I loved that about her most of the time, but right now it made everything harder than it needed to be.
My phone rang in my pocket, loud enough to make me jump. I pulled it out and saw the office number on the screen. I answered. "Langford."
"Mr. Langford, it's the front desk." Her voice was hesitant, like she wasn't sure she should be calling. "I just wanted to let you know — your wife stopped by earlier today."
I frowned. "Hannah came to the office?"
"Yes, sir. She didn't stay long. She left before I could let you know she was here."
That didn't make sense. Hannah rarely came to the office.
She knew how packed my days were, and she hated the building anyway — said it felt cold, like a bank, all glass and steel with no warmth to it.
The last time she'd come up there she'd spent the whole visit looking uncomfortable. "When was this?" I asked.
"Late in the afternoon, I think. I'm sorry, Mr. Langford, I tried to catch you but you were busy and I didn't want to interrupt."
Late afternoon. I'd been in my office then, the door standing open for once and the lights low, going over the donor event with Sienna beside me. It had run long, and I hadn't looked at my phone once. "Did she say what she wanted?" I asked. "Did she leave a message or ask me to call her back?"
"No, sir. She just . . . she looked around for a minute and then left. I thought you'd want to know."
I thanked her and ended the call, my jaw tightening.
Hannah had come all the way to the office and then turned around without seeing me.
Why would she do that? If something was wrong, if she needed me, she would have waited.
Or called ahead. Or at least left a message with the front desk telling me to call her when I had a minute.
None of this made sense. It didn't fit with how Hannah operated. She didn't just show up and disappear.
I tried her cell. It rang four times and went to voicemail, her voice cheerful and familiar telling me to leave a message. I hung up without saying anything and tried again. Same thing. My throat went tight, and I had to force myself to take a breath and think this through logically.
She was pregnant. Maybe she wasn't feeling well.
Maybe she'd driven over to tell me something about the baby and then felt too sick to wait around while I finished my call.
That would explain why she'd left the office so quickly.
It didn't explain the ring, but I could ask her about that later.
Right now I just needed to find her and make sure she was okay.
That was the priority. Everything else could wait.
I slipped the ring into my pocket, the band pressing against my thigh through the fabric.
I'd keep it safe until I saw her. Then we'd figure this out.
It was fine. Everything was fine. This was just a misunderstanding, the kind of thing that happened when two people were busy and their schedules didn't line up.
We'd talk it through tonight, and she'd tell me I was overreacting, and we'd laugh about it. That was how this worked.
My phone buzzed again, and I glanced down expecting Hannah's name. Instead I saw Sienna's. I almost didn't answer, but something made me pick up. "Yeah?"
"Pierce, hi." Her voice was careful, too careful, like she was walking on eggshells. "I just wanted to check in. I heard Hannah came by the office earlier today. I don't know what that was about. I wanted to make sure everything was okay."
My hand tightened around the phone. "What do you mean, make sure?"
"I'm not sure exactly. I just thought you should know.
" She paused, and I could hear her shifting on the other end of the line, like she was debating whether to keep talking.
"Pierce, I know she's been stressed lately with the baby coming and everything, and I know sometimes it's hard for her when you're working so much.
I just don't want you to feel like you have to handle this all on your own.
If there's anything I can do to help, or if you need me to step back from some of the planning so you have more time at home, just say the word. I mean it. I'm here for you."
"There's nothing to handle," I said, cutting her off.
My voice came out sharper than I meant it to, but I didn't care.
I didn't need Sienna trying to manage my marriage like it was one of her events, something she could fix with the right schedule and the right vendor list. "Hannah's fine.
We're fine. She probably just had a bad day.
Pregnant women get emotional sometimes. It doesn't mean there's a problem. "
"I know, I just —"
"Sienna." I stayed where I was, standing in the middle of the nursery with my free hand pressed to the back of my neck.
My spine felt tight, the muscles locked up from too many hours hunched over my desk.
"I appreciate the concern, but this isn't something you need to worry about.
Hannah and I will work it out. That's what married people do.
We talk, we figure it out, and we move on. You don't need to get involved."
There was a pause, long enough that I thought she might push back. Then she said, "Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep."
"It's fine," I said, even though it wasn't. I ended the call before she could say anything else and shoved the phone back into my pocket.
My chest felt tight, my heart beating harder than it should have been.
I pressed my palm flat against my sternum and told myself to get a grip.
This was nothing. A misunderstanding. Hannah had left her ring behind by accident, come to the office on a whim, and then changed her mind about waiting.
People did things like that all the time.
Pregnant women especially. Hormones made them emotional, made them do things that didn't make sense to anyone else. That was all this was.
But the tightness in my chest didn't go away.
I thought about Carter, about what he'd said yesterday afternoon in the hallway, right before he slammed out the door.
He'd been blunt the way he always was. She's all over your house, Pierce.
She's all over your wife. I'd told him he was putting words in my mouth.
Carter didn't understand how business worked.
Sienna was good at her job, and I relied on her.
That didn't mean anything beyond the professional.
Hannah knew that. Or she should have known that.
But what if she didn't?
I pushed the thought away and walked downstairs, my footsteps loud on the hardwood.
I grabbed my keys from the table by the door.
The house felt too quiet, too empty, and I didn't want to be in it anymore.
The silence pressed in on me, made the tightness in my chest worse.
I needed to find Hannah and talk to her face to face.
She'd tell me what was going on, and I'd fix it.
That was how this worked. That was how we worked. I solved problems. That was what I did.
I got in the car and started the engine, my hands gripping the wheel hard enough that my knuckles went white.
I didn't let myself think about the ring in my pocket or the way the woman at the front desk had said she just looked around for a minute and then left.
I didn't let myself think about Sienna's voice on the phone, too careful, like she knew something I didn't. I just drove.
Julia's place was half an hour away if the traffic cooperated.
Hannah went there sometimes when she needed space, when she wanted to talk to someone who wasn't me.
I didn't love that she ran to Julia every time we had a disagreement, but I understood it.
Julia had been her friend since before we were married, back when Hannah was still teaching and living in that tiny apartment near the school.
They had history. They'd taught together for years.
I got that. Everyone needed someone they could vent to, someone outside the situation who could listen without judgment.
That was what Julia was for Hannah. A sounding board.
The road stretched out in front of me, familiar and straight.
I pressed harder on the gas, my foot heavy on the pedal.
My phone sat in the cupholder, silent. Hannah still hadn't called me back.
That wasn't like her. Even when she was mad at me, she picked up.
She didn't just disappear. She didn't ignore my calls and leave her wedding ring on a shelf beside a stuffed elephant like it didn't mean anything.
My stomach twisted, and I tightened my grip on the wheel.
This is nothing, I told myself again. You're going to get to Julia's, and Hannah's going to be there, and she's going to tell you she needed some air.
That's all. That's all this is. She's upset about something, and she went to Julia's to cool off, and you'll talk it through and go home together.
But I didn't believe it.
Not really.
Because Hannah had left her ring behind, and I couldn't come up with a single ordinary reason for that.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. I'd been running through explanations in my head ever since I'd picked the thing up, trying to find one that made sense.
But every explanation I tried felt thin, like something I was telling myself because the alternative was too big to look at.
Because if there wasn't an ordinary reason, if this wasn't just hormones or a bad day or a misunderstanding, then something was wrong, and I didn't know what.
I kept driving, my heart beating too fast, my hands locked on the wheel. The road to Julia's stretched out ahead of me, and I didn't let myself slow down.