Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
TONY
My hands find their way into my hair for the twentieth time today.
I’ve never been so frustrated in my life.
I know it isn’t just the job pissing me off.
I miss my wife to the point of insanity.
The day can’t be over fast enough so that I can go home and hold her.
I ache to run my hands through her long dark hair as I pull her in for a deep, soul-penetrating kiss.
The feel of Rosalyn’s skin along mine keeps me so damn distracted.
Rapid knocks on my door pull me out of my thoughts. My assistant steps inside and says, “Sir, you have the Old Hill site on the line.” My muscles tighten at the thought of another problem.
“No calls from my wife?” I ask with too much weakness in my voice. She’s probably thinking I’m pathetic over my wife, which I sure as fuck am. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep Rosalyn.
She shakes her head and taps her pen on her pad of paper.
“None, sir. You told me to put them through if she calls.” Yes, I snapped when I learned she sent my wife to voicemail several times.
I didn’t know until I overheard her when I came out of a meeting.
Since then, Rosalyn hasn’t called the office. Fuck, I miss her so much.
“Okay. Let me know even if I’m still on the call.”
She rolls her eyes because I’ve told her that about ten times a day. “Of course.”
Rosalyn and I met a month ago in Vegas, marrying the same night after having too much to drink. It was the smartest thing I’ve ever done because letting her go isn’t an option.
As soon as I saw Rosalyn, I knew she’d be mine and I had to act before I lost her.
She’d been at a bachelorette party, and I’d been at a bachelor party.
They both got out of hand, so we ended up meeting outside a strip club.
We took a cab to a bar, drinking and making out, finally stopping by a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel.
Hours later, I had her ass on a plane, attached to me for the rest of our lives.
I’m back at work and clocking in more hours than usual since we returned from Indiana. Normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about the long hours, but since meeting Rosalyn, I’ve been obsessed. Being with her makes me so fucking elated. As sappy or corny as it sounds, I’m not whole without her.
I take the call with the Old Hill manager Rich and deal with this week’s hiccups. Every day there are problems. When it rains it pours, and it seems lately like I’m living in a monsoon.
Owning a construction company that I built from the ground up and is worth millions makes me proud, but it keeps me busy.
For the past twenty years, I worked my fingers to the bone to make it successful.
My company built thirty significant buildings in Texas and Oklahoma as well as a bunch of remodels, repairs, and family homes in the past ten years.
As the boss, I went from wearing jeans and a hard hat to a suit in a boardroom, trying to keep my company prosperous.
I’ve worked hard to prove myself, getting out of a poor neighborhood and making choices to keep on a steady straight path to success no matter how difficult it was.
Everything I’ve done is to have a life worth building with someone I love, my Rosalyn.
It’s six-thirty and I’m calling it a day. For the first time in weeks, I’ve managed not to pull a fourteen-hour day, and now all I want to do is get home to my beautiful new wife.
It seems that for the past two weeks, everything that could go wrong at work—has.
One worksite flooded due to a water main break, and another caught fire.
It was a nightmare that left me little time for my sweet Rosalyn.
She deserves all of my attention and as of late she hasn’t been getting any of it.
I call her cell to let her know that I’m on my way back earlier than usual, but she doesn’t answer.
“Damn it.” I sent her a text with no response.
Perhaps she’s asleep already. Checking my watch, it’s way too early for it, but who knows.
Every single night this week I’ve come home to her already in bed in a deep sleep. It has put a damper on our lovemaking.
I pull up to the house, and the lights are off.
Her car’s gone and there was no message or return call.
Panic starts to build in my chest. This is a very safe area, and we have standard home surveillance, so I cross my fingers and hope she’s just shopping.
“Where did she go?” I mutter aloud, looking around for any sign of trouble, but there’s nothing.
I go inside and look around the first floor. When I enter the kitchen I get my answer which is on the fridge’s dry erase board. At your sister’s, I’ll be back tonight. Why didn’t she just text me to say that?
That’s strange. I give Rosalyn another call because I need to hear that everything’s okay, but it goes straight to voicemail. Where the fuck is her phone?
I call my sister’s cell phone, and that goes to voicemail as well.
An unsettling feeling goes through me as I imagine something terrible happening to my love.
I go into my office and tap on my laptop to open our phone trackers and security feeds to see where she is.
When I click the internet browser, the landing page shows the search bar and the last three things searched as keywords.
I almost lose my fucking mind.
Divorce lawyers.
My heart and head can’t believe what I’m reading. This can’t be real. I know I haven’t been the best husband, but I love her. God, have I ever told her that?
I click on the words, hoping that she didn’t search sites, but I’m out of luck.
The results show she checked out the top three.
I read their names, feeding my ire irrationally.
I want to wrap my hands around each one of those lawyers’ throats as if it’s their fault my wife wants to leave me.
No. It’s all my fault. I’ve neglected her, didn’t make her feel loved, adored like the treasure she is.
Standing and shaking my head, I’m at a loss, so I send the computer and everything on the desk flying off. It all crashes loudly, but not as loud as my erratic heartbeat. I drop back into the chair, feeling lost and frustrated. I can’t believe this. “What did I do?”
I love her so much that I can’t even breathe. We can work this out. We’ve only been together for a month. Maybe she’s just feeling lonely. That I can fix.
I pour myself a drink and toss it back, pouring another one and finishing that one. She can’t leave me. I never knew what love was until I met her.
Fuck. I slam the glass down on my desk and then storm out of my office, pacing around the house like a caged animal.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through this unless I can convince her to stay with me forever. We’re not leaving the house until we fix whatever it is I broke. “Fuck, the trip,” I mutter.
I call my assistant because I’m not going on my trip anymore. It’s a two-day trip to South Padre that’s supposed to happen in three days, but I need to straighten out my marriage before everything else.
“Cynthia, I’m going to have to cancel the trip. Call Dax and tell him he can go in my place. I’m sure he’d like the small getaway.” He’s my second in command and can handle the specs and get back to me with the offer from the client.
“Is everything okay?” She’s been with me a long time and knows I haven’t been myself since I met my wife. She’s probably freaking out.
“I can’t talk about it, but I’ll call you on Monday unless you have questions.”
“You have two meetings tomorrow,” she reminds me with the scolding tone that I don’t need to deal with at the moment.
“I don’t care. I need them rescheduled,” I bark out, letting her know that I’m not in the mood for any of her snark or judgement.
“Okay. I’ll handle it first thing in the morning. Whatever’s going on, I hope you’re going to be fine.”
“I hope so too.” I end the call and think of a plan.
I walk into our bedroom, heart heavy. Everything is neat, pristine, clean as if my whole world is just right, but it’s a lie.
Nothing in my world will ever be right if she leaves.
I’d rather burn it all down if I don’t have Rosalyn to share it with.