Chapter 5
CALLIE
The faint scent of peonies greeted me the moment I stepped into our bedroom, and my gaze turned toward the bouquet on my bedside table.
Ethan had surprised me with them two nights ago, a peace offering in the form of pale pink petals and green stems wrapped in florist’s paper.
An expensive one since they were a month out of season, so he’d had to find a florist who carried them all the way from Ecuador.
They were gorgeous, but what I appreciated most had been Ethan’s reason for choosing them—because they were meant to express regret, particularly in romantic relationships.
I couldn’t stop staring at them, even as the petals started to wilt at the edges.
A week ago, the sight of fresh flowers in our home might have filled me with hope. Tonight, all I could think about was whether they would last longer than the promises he’d been making.
But that was a concern for a different time. Right now, I needed to focus on the night ahead so I didn’t make my nerves any worse.
I smoothed the skirt of my dress over my hips and slipped into my heels, nerves buzzing in my chest. These faculty dinners still made me feel like an imposter, no matter how many times my supervisor told me I’d earned my place at the table.
At events with the professors who’d once taught me, I often felt like a substitute playing dress-up.
It wasn’t quite so bad with Ethan at my side because he fit in so effortlessly where we went. His presence anchored me and gave me the strength to smile through the awkward greetings and subtle questions that always felt like tests.
I was just finishing up my makeup when my phone buzzed on the counter. Ethan’s name lit up the screen, and my heart lifted before I even reached for it.
“Hey,” I answered, a smile tugging at my lips.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last.
His voice was taut and rushed. “Callie, I’m so sorry. Mom’s on the way to the ER. She thinks it might be her heart. I—”
My hand tightened around the phone as I interrupted, “You should go to the hospital. She needs you.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have missed your dinner except for an emergency.”
“I know.” Sort of.
I hated that I had doubts about the timing of his mom’s trip to the ER, but I wouldn’t put much past her. Especially since Ethan had barely spoken to her over the past few days since he’d skipped lunch to get home early each night so we could spend time together.
“I’ll keep you updated,” he promised. “Don’t skip dinner. They’re expecting you. Just…text me if you need anything, okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, even though he wouldn’t be able to give me the only thing I would need—him.
When the call ended, I stared at my reflection in the mirror—the careful makeup and perfect dress—and wondered why I still felt like I was cracking apart inside.
Steeling myself for an awkward evening, I put on my heels before grabbing my purse and keys.
As I headed to the attached parking garage, I was grateful that Ethan had insisted on replacing my car with a brand-new Mercedes-Benz SUV after our honeymoon.
At least I didn’t need to feel self-conscious when I pulled up in front of the restaurant.
The valet whisked my keys away, leaving me clutching my bag a little too tightly as I stared up at the awning.
The place was elegant but not ostentatious—exactly the sort of understated venue Dr. Talcott favored.
Refined enough to impress visiting scholars, yet casual enough not to scream pretension.
The sort of balance my mother-in-law would’ve sniffed at for being beneath her.
I checked my cell one last time before stepping inside, disappointed that there wasn’t an update from Ethan other than he’d arrived at the hospital.
My thumb hovered over his name in my messages for a moment, but then I shoved the phone back into my clutch and drew in a steadying breath, reminding myself that I could survive a dinner without him.
Inside, the hum of conversation wrapped around me—low laughter interspersed with the clink of cutlery. White tablecloths covered each table, but they were softened by simple votive candles in the middle.
The host led me to the back of the restaurant, where my doctoral supervisor rose from his chair with the same gentle courtesy he’d shown me since grad school. “Callie, so glad you could make it.”
Dr. Talcott’s salt-and-pepper hair gleamed under the pendant lights as he gestured toward an open seat at the long table.
“Of course. Thank you for the invitation,” I managed with a smile, sliding into one of the two open chairs.
Dr. Talcott’s wife leaned forward, offering a polite smile. “Will your husband be joining us?”
I swallowed. “Unfortunately, something came up at the last minute, and he won’t be able to make it.”
“Oh, such a shame he’s often too busy for these things,” she murmured, lips pursing before she sat back.
Her tone was mild, but the words sliced just the same.
The urge to defend myself burned on my tongue.
I wanted to tell them that Ethan was at the hospital because his mother thought she was having a heart attack.
The words swelled in my chest, begging to be spoken.
But I froze, teeth pressed together so tightly my jaw ached.
Margot would hate for anyone to know, and Ethan wouldn’t want me airing his mother’s personal business. Even if she’d never shown me kindness, I still felt bound to protect her. But swallowing that truth down for her sake left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I lifted my water glass and offered her a weak smile over the rim before taking a sip. The conversation moved on around me—updates about grant approvals, murmurs of departmental politics, soft laughter over wine—but I felt the weight of the empty chair next to me.
I forced myself to nod when Dr. Talcott launched into a story about a research project, but my mind was miles away.
Normally, I would’ve leaned in, eager to soak up every bit of professional insight.
But I couldn’t dredge up even a hint of interest tonight.
Not when my mind was on my marriage, which felt like it was hanging by a thread.
Ethan’s absence seemed louder than the chatter, like a hollow thud echoing in my chest. It shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal, but it did.
He was at the hospital with his mother. Exactly where I told him he needed to be.
My hands twisted in my lap beneath the tablecloth, the fabric of my dress crumpling between my fingers. I told myself that I was being unfair, that no wife would begrudge her husband for going to the emergency room with his mother. But I couldn’t seem to get reason and emotion to align.
Every burst of laughter seemed to spotlight how out of place I felt, how desperately I wished I wasn’t alone at this table. My fork toyed with the edge of my salad plate, the lettuce already limp.
If I stood and quietly excused myself, I could be home in fifteen minutes. The thought was tempting, but I stayed seated. Walking out would make me the young adjunct who couldn’t handle one dinner without her husband, the woman who didn’t deserve her seat at the table.
When dessert arrived I picked up my fork but didn’t take a bite. The delicate slices of flourless chocolate cake drizzled with raspberry coulis looked delicious, but my stomach turned at the sight of it.
Instead, I sneaked another glance at my phone, the screen glowing in my lap. Still no new texts. No missed calls. Nothing but the silence of a man who had promised to keep me updated.
I had to grip the fork tighter just to keep from shaking. I pressed its tines into the cake, dragging it in circles until the raspberry sauce bled across the plate. My dessert remained untouched, my appetite lost.
All I could do was sit there, smile faintly when someone glanced my way, and stare at the phone that refused to light up.