Chapter 12
ETHAN
The couch was unforgiving beneath my back, my neck stiff and my mouth dry when I woke. My brain was foggier than it normally was in the morning, and then everything that happened last night came rushing back.
How royally I’d fucked up my marriage.
I pushed myself upright and groaned at the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My phone sat on the coffee table where I’d dropped it sometime after midnight. I reached for it with a familiar spike of dread, already knowing what I’d find. No missed calls or messages from Callie.
I rubbed a hand over my face, dragging my fingers down slowly as if that might wake me from whatever nightmare this was.
I’d searched for her for hours. Drove aimlessly until the streets blurred together, and I ran out of places to look.
I even checked her campus. But I hadn’t found any sign of her.
Standing, I looked around the living room. The throw blanket she always used was folded neatly over the arm of the chair by the window, the one she liked to sit in when she graded papers or read in the evenings.
I was about to turn away when it hit me how much I’d let her down. When Callie had told me about how my mother had made her feel like a guest in our home, it hadn’t occurred to me that I’d done the same in a very big way.
The office down the hall with the perfect view of the park across the street was mine.
It always had been, even though I rarely used it since I met Callie.
She’d never complained about working at the coffee table or curled up on the couch with her laptop.
She had an office on campus, but she preferred to grade papers at home.
And with only online classes over the summer and virtual office hours, she only went to the college for department meetings.
I’d made room for my priorities and assumed she’d fit herself around them without giving it much thought. And my sweet wife had never once complained until I royally fucked up by missing her appointment.
I exhaled slowly, the sound harsh in the quiet apartment.
This wasn’t just about a misunderstanding. I’d failed her long before last night.
The phone started buzzing on the coffee table, and I rushed over to answer. Only it wasn’t Callie’s name flashing across the screen. It was my mother. Again.
I told myself I didn’t owe her anything right now. Still, my hand moved practically on its own. “Hello.”
“Thank goodness you finally picked up.” Relief bled into irritation in the same breath, as only my mother could do. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”
I wandered into the kitchen and leaned back against the counter, closing my eyes. “I’ve been busy.”
“You could have at least answered one of my calls or sent a message. I was worried sick.” She paused for a beat. “After everything that happened last night.”
“What do you need, Mother?”
A pause crackled across the line. “I just don’t understand what came over you. You embarrassed me in front of everyone.”
The only person who embarrassed my mother was herself, but I knew she wouldn’t admit it. “That’s why you’ve been calling?”
“Well, yes. You snapped at me, publicly. As if I’d done something wrong,” she huffed.
My jaw clenched. “Because you did.”
“You’re twisting my words. I was only pointing out that those sorts of events can be overwhelming for someone who isn’t used to them,” she insisted.
Now that Callie had opened my eyes to my mother’s manipulations, I couldn’t unsee them. Her little digs disguised as concern but were truly meant to chip away at my wife.
“Stop pretending that you weren’t being cruel.”
Silence stretched between us, then she laughed, but the sound held disbelief instead of humor. “Ethan, you’re being dramatic. I was only trying to help. Callie is sensitive. She always has been. You know that. It’s not my fault she takes everything so personally.”
None of what she was saying was new. I just wasn’t deceived by the false concern any longer.
“That’s enough, Mother. You don’t get to talk about her like that.”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious,” I continued. “No more belittling Callie or dismissing her feelings. She’s my wife, and I won’t let you treat her like she’s an inconvenience.”
“Perhaps you should consider that she’s the problem. I was only trying to—”
“I’m not having this conversation,” I cut in, refusing to listen to her justifications. “You crossed a line, and I should have stopped it sooner.”
“You’re choosing her over your own mother?”
Even now, she minimized Callie by not using her name or calling her my wife. “I’m choosing my marriage, and I should have done it sooner. If you can’t respect that, then we need some space.”
Her breath hitched. “You don’t mean that.”
“I need time. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.”
Before she could respond, I ended the call. Then I did something I never considered before—I blocked her number. Not forever, but long enough to breathe without her voice in my ear.
I needed to focus on my marriage, and my mother blowing up my phone was an unnecessary distraction.
Limiting my contact with her was the right decision, even though I felt like I was letting my dad down by doing it.
But he’d put his wife first, so I had to hope that he would’ve understood why I was finally doing the same.
Opening my text thread with Callie, I stared at the blinking cursor. I’d sent a ridiculous number of messages over the past twelve hours, and I couldn’t come up with the right words to make everything up to her. I didn’t think they even existed. But I had to try anyway.
I hated knowing my wife was out there hurting because of me. This was all my fault. Not due to just one mistake, but a thousand small ones. Letting my mother undermine her because it was easier than pushing back. Putting work first because it always had before I met Callie.
Me
I’m not going to pretend I understand what you’re feeling right now, but I do know that somewhere along the way, I stopped showing up for you the way I promised I would.
I reread what I’d sent, then kept going.
Me
I let my job and my mother come before you. I see that now. And I’m sorry it took losing you for me to finally understand how much that hurt you.
That still wasn’t enough.
Me
You deserved better from me. You still do.
I swallowed hard.
Me
I don’t expect you to respond until you’re ready. I won’t push you. I just needed you to know that I’m taking responsibility for what I failed to do.
I didn’t think she’d reply, but that didn’t stop me from staring at my phone for the next half hour. Finally, the screen lit up with a message from her.
Callie
I’m okay. I just need time. Please give it to me.
I closed my eyes, relief and regret tangling in my chest. She was safe but choosing distance from me, and I had nobody to blame but myself for that.
I stared at her reply for a long moment, wrestling with sending another text when she asked for time. Ultimately, I decided I needed to explain one more thing before giving her what she needed.
Silence could look like guilt, and she’d lived with enough uncertainty from me. Especially if she’d somehow overheard part of that damn conversation last night. I couldn’t let her go on thinking that I had room in my heart or head for another woman when my wife was the only one for me.
Me
Sophie told me she had feelings for me last night. I shut it down immediately, and she won’t be working with me anymore. I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us, even now.
Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.
The messages whooshed away, and I heaved a deep sigh. Then I set the phone face down on the table and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.
The waiting would be hell. But for once, I’d give Callie what she needed, even if it broke me.
I was already feeling battered when I woke up the next morning. I’d barely slept. A couple of hours at most, and even those were short bursts of unconsciousness between long stretches of staring at the ceiling, replaying every way I’d let Callie down.
By dawn on Monday, a deep ache settled into my muscles from the hours I spent lugging furniture around yesterday. I looked like I hadn’t slept in a week, but I still arrived at Langford Tech earlier than usual.
I rode the elevator up and walked through the executive floor, greeting a few early risers with nods. When I reached my office, everything inside was exactly as I’d left it. Neat and orderly. The opposite of my personal life.
I booted up my computer and forced myself to focus on emails and budget approvals. When I stepped out to get coffee from the break room, I passed Sophie’s empty desk.
A throat cleared softly beside me, and I turned to find a woman standing there.
“Mr. Prescott?” she asked.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Harper. HR said I’d be covering your administrative support until Lucy returns from maternity leave,” she explained.
“Welcome.” We shook hands. “How comfortable are you with scheduling software and calendar management?”
Her answering smile was confident. “Very. I specialized in workflow optimization at my last job.”
That got my full attention. Now that my eyes were open to my mother’s manipulation and Sophie’s boundary-crossing, I couldn’t stop reexamining everything. “Perfect. I need you to audit my calendar for the past three months.”
She blinked. “Am I looking for anything in particular?”
“I’d like a thorough rundown of every meeting that was moved or cancelled.” I considered the missed appointment that had sent my marriage spiraling. “And a log of all the notifications, if that’s possible.”
Harper nodded. “Your IT administrator should have an audit log, but I’ll probably need permission to access the information.”
“Let me know when you hit a roadblock, I’ll make sure you have whatever you need.”
“I’ll get started immediately,” she murmured, rounding the desk to sit down in front of the computer.
“Thank you.”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted more—proof someone had tampered with my schedule, or confirmation that I’d ruined things entirely on my own.