Chapter 7
CALLIE
The front door clicked open just as dawn began to lighten the skyline outside our windows. I sat at the kitchen island, hands wrapped around my second coffee of the morning since I’d barely slept and desperately needed the caffeine.
Ethan’s usual polished precision looked worn through. His jacket was draped over one arm, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, and his hair looked as though he’d raked his fingers through it.
I stood and rounded the counter to pour him a coffee, adding a dollop of cream, just how he liked it. He accepted the mug with a faint smile, his fingers brushing mine in a brief touch that left my pulse unsteady. “You look like you could use this even more than I do.”
“Yeah, it was a long night.” His voice was rough with exhaustion. “But Mom is fine.”
I knew the doctor planned to do more tests, but that was all Ethan told me when he finally texted after I got home from dinner. That and to not wait up because he wouldn’t be back until morning. Which had left me tossing and turning all night long.
“Fine?” I echoed, confused but also relieved.
He took a sip before explaining, “They ran a second round of bloodwork overnight—everything came back normal. It wasn’t her heart.”
“Then what was it?” I asked as I returned to my stool.
“A panic attack.” He exhaled hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “Apparently stress can cause symptoms that mimic a heart attack. The doctor said her EKG and troponin levels were clear both times.”
“Oh.” My throat tightened with relief I hadn’t realized I was holding back. “So…she’s really okay?”
“She’s already making plans to redecorate her guest room while she ‘recovers.’” His mouth curved into a tired, rueful half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Trust me, she’s fine.”
I tried to smile back, but the tension in the air didn’t dissolve as easily as I wanted it to. I could see the fatigue in his posture, but something else lingered beneath it. A hint of guilt, maybe.
“You should get some rest. You’ve been up all night.”
“I will.” He moved to the end of the island and leaned his hip against it, only inches away from me. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
I almost told him it was too late for that. Instead, I just nodded and took another sip of my coffee. He did the same, and for a few quiet moments, we just sat there while the city woke around us.
After grabbing a banana, Ethan took off his watch and set it beside his empty mug. “I took the morning off. I’m not sure I could see straight with how tired I am. Figured I’d try to catch a few hours of sleep before heading in.”
“That’s a good call.” I rinsed my cup in the sink. “You need it.”
He nodded but didn’t move toward the bedroom. Instead, he stayed leaning against the island, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Last night made me realize something. I’ve been running on autopilot for months—work, meetings, emails. It’s like I blinked, and we…drifted.”
My chest tightened at the honesty in his tone. “You’ve had a lot on your plate.”
“So did you before the wedding, but you never lost sight of what matters.” His gaze softened. “I owe it to us to put in the same effort.”
I wanted to believe that. I really did. But part of me couldn’t help remembering how often he’d prioritized his mother’s needs over mine or cancelled plans when a work crisis or project deadline hit.
Still, the fact that he was standing here instead of buried in his phone felt like something. A small step in my direction, at least.
“The Langford Tech Gala is coming up this weekend. I was thinking…” He hesitated, searching my face. “Maybe we could treat it more like a date this year. Less networking. More dancing. Coming home early for some quality alone time.”
I forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine. “Sure. That sounds nice.”
It really did, but I wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull off his plan unless his mother was too unwell to attend. And as unkind as it sounded, a heart attack was probably the only thing that would keep her away from such an important event.
His answering smile was soft, almost boyish, and for a moment, I saw the man I’d fallen in love with. The one who could make me grin just by glancing my way across a crowded room.
“Crumb,” he murmured, reaching out. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, chasing away what must’ve been a speck from the toast I’d eaten earlier. The touch lingered a beat too long, sending a shiver down my spine before he dropped his hand.
The quiet between us felt fragile, and I didn’t want it to crack when he was finally making an effort. So I just nodded toward the hallway. “You should head to bed while you still can.”
“Yeah.” He set his mug in the sink with a sigh. “Wake me in a few hours?”
“Sure, after my office hours are over at ten.”
The words came easily, but my chest still felt tight. As though I was caught between hope and fear.
Hoping to distract myself from my spiraling thoughts, I grabbed my laptop and got settled in the living room. The papers my students had just turned in weren’t due until early next week, but I’d learned during grad school to work ahead whenever I could.
Two hours later, the penthouse was silent except for the occasional rustle of paper. By the time I opened the video-conference window, I’d already made it through eight papers. My office hours were open, though no students had signed in yet.
I used the downtime to continue grading and started on the paper from a student who’d been struggling since the start of the summer term.
His early drafts were messy, all run-on sentences and scattered ideas, but this one was better.
More deliberate. It was obvious that he’d read through the comments I’d left on his previous assignments and worked to improve on this one.
It made me smile. Proof that real change could happen, given time and effort.
I stared at the screen a little longer than necessary, the thought lingering in ways I hadn’t expected.
Ethan had said all the right things this morning. He’d looked sincere. Maybe even a little lost. And for the first time in weeks, he hadn’t checked his phone once while we talked. That had to mean something.
Still, I couldn’t stop dissecting each word like it was one of my students’ sentences, searching for intent, subtext, and evidence. Wondering if he’d really follow through on his promise.
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze sweeping across the living room.
Everything about the space was beautiful in that magazine-perfect way Margot preferred—with sleek lines, curated decor, and the view of the park across the street framed by floor-to-ceiling windows.
From the outside, my life was what I was supposed to want. Something other women envied, even.
My eyes drifted to the bouquet on the console table. The peonies had begun to droop, their pale pink petals curling at the edges. The only bit of imperfection in the entire room—except for me.
In my cotton pajama pants with a polo thrown on so I’d look professional on the video call, I looked out of place in the home I shared with Ethan. Like the life around me had been curated for someone else, and I was just passing through.
The scent of garlic and roasted tomatoes hit me before the sound of the elevator doors. I looked up from my laptop to find Ethan balancing a take-out bag and a bottle of wine, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled to his elbows.
A glance at the time in the corner of my screen told me it was barely after five. I’d been so focused on grading that I’d barely noticed six hours had passed since he’d left for the office.
“You’re home early.”
“I thought we could skip cooking tonight.” He lifted the bag higher with a sheepish grin. “Figured you might not mind Italian.”
Warmth unfurled in my chest. “It sounds amazing.”
I set aside my notebook and laptop while he grabbed plates and wine glasses.
And for the first time in longer than I wanted to admit, the tension between us eased.
We ate at the island instead of the dining table.
Halfway through the meal, he told me a story about one of Gage’s board-meeting disasters, and my laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
Ethan’s eyes widened slightly, as if the sound startled him too. Then his grin broke loose. Real and bright, boyish in a way I hadn’t seen in months.
It felt like we were us again. The kind of effortless normal we hadn’t managed in far too long.
After dinner, he gathered the plates and carried them to the sink while I poured the last of the wine. I felt his gaze before I saw it. Soft and lingering, making my pulse flutter as a spark of hope flickered to life.
Then his phone buzzed on the counter. He reached for it without hesitation, his thumbs flying across the screen. Gage’s name flashed across the display, and just like that, I’d lost him to work again.
My shoulders slumped, and Ethan looked up. Noticing my silence, he flashed me a distracted smile. “Just confirming a few details for the gala. Won’t be a second.”
I nodded, wanting to believe this was a new beginning. But deep down, I knew how fragile hope could be. And how easily love faltered when one person stopped showing up.