8. Callie
CALLIE
I stood at the edge of the yard with a glass of wine in my hand and my wedding ring catching the late afternoon light. The party had been going for an hour. I watched Wade work the crowd like he was born to it.
He moved between groups of ranchers and their wives, shaking hands and laughing at jokes I couldn't hear. He clapped one of the hands on the shoulder and said something that made the whole group erupt. His smile was easy. Relaxed. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be.
I took a sip of wine and waited for him to look over. To turn his head and look across the lawn.
He didn't.
I moved a few steps along the edge of the yard, out where the grass opened up and he could see me if he turned. I held my glass in both hands and stood straight, and I waited. He laughed at something a rancher said and shook another hand.
I twisted the ring on my finger. It turned easily, the thin gold band worn smooth after ten years. The sunlight ran along it in a fine bright line. Wade had slipped it on my finger at a little chapel, and it had stayed there ever since.
I looked down at it now, then out across the lawn again.
Marlene appeared at my side, materializing out of the crowd in a cream-colored dress and pearls. She smiled, bright and wide, plainly satisfied, her eyes moving over the yard. She touched my arm, her fingers cool through the sleeve of my dress.
"Callie, sweetheart. Are you enjoying yourself?"
I nodded. "It's a beautiful party."
"Oh, I'm so glad." Her hand stayed on my arm, a light pressure through the sleeve. "Ten years. That's something worth celebrating, don't you think?"
"It is."
"You look lovely, by the way. That color suits you." She tilted her head, looking me over. "Though you seem a little quiet. Everything all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Good." She squeezed my arm once and let go. "Wade's having such a wonderful time. Look at him. He's in his element."
I looked. Wade stood near the long tables set up under the cottonwoods, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his hands gesturing as he talked to a group of men I recognized from the neighboring ranches.
He was animated, his whole body engaged, leaning forward as he made a point, his expression open and warm.
Marlene sighed, pleased. "He works so hard. It's good to see him enjoying himself."
I took another sip of wine and said nothing. Marlene crossed the grass toward a knot of women near the tables, and I watched her go, her pearls bright against the cream of her dress.
A white sedan pulled up the drive, dust trailing behind it. Marlene's attention snapped toward it, and her smile widened. She released my arm and smoothed the front of her dress.
"Oh, wonderful. She's here."
I didn't have to ask who.
Shelby Bradshaw stepped out of the car in a white dress that fit like it had been tailored to her.
The fabric skimmed her body and moved when she walked, catching the late afternoon light in a way that made it hard to look away.
Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves down her back, glossy and smooth, and she wore heels that made her legs look impossibly long.
I said nothing.
Marlene called out across the yard, her voice carrying over the music and conversation. "Shelby! You made it!"
Shelby smiled and waved, and Marlene glided across the grass to meet her. I watched them embrace, Marlene taking both of Shelby's hands and saying something I couldn't hear. Shelby laughed, her head tipping back, and Marlene beamed like she'd just been given the best news of her life.
Then Marlene turned and gestured toward the party, one hand resting on Shelby's back.
Wade noticed.
God, he noticed.
He excused himself from the ranchers mid-conversation and crossed the yard in long strides. His whole focus had shifted. He reached Shelby and Marlene, and I saw his mouth move, saw Shelby smile up at him and say something that made him grin.
My chest tightened. I took another drink of wine, longer this time, and felt it burn all the way down.
Wade turned back toward the group of ranchers he'd just left, but he didn't rejoin them. Instead he raised his voice, warm and carrying, making sure everyone could hear. "You all know Shelby Bradshaw."
A few people called out greetings. Shelby lifted her hand in a small wave, her smile bright and practiced, aimed at the crowd.
Wade kept going, his pride obvious. "Shelby caught a clause in the mineral rights contract on the Bradshaw deal that would've cost us a fortune if it had gone through. She saved us months of headache and probably a lawsuit. Sharp as they come."
Shelby lowered her eyes for a moment, the way a person does when she knows people are watching, and the smile didn't falter. "Wade's the one helping my father get everything in order. I just happened to notice it while I was looking over the paperwork."
"Don't sell yourself short. You've got a good eye for this stuff. Better than most of the lawyers we've got on retainer."
Someone laughed. Someone else asked a question about the drilling timeline, and Wade turned to answer, pulling Shelby into the conversation with him. She answered easily, confidently, and Wade stood with his head bent toward her, his eyes on her face while she talked.
I stood there with my wine and my ring. Wade hadn't looked across the lawn once.
I looked down at the glass in my hand. The wine was half gone. I didn't remember drinking that much.
Shelby laughed at something one of the ranchers said, high and bright, and it carried across the lawn.
One of the ranch wives, a woman in a blue dress whose name I couldn't remember, leaned toward her husband and spoke just loud enough for me to hear. "She's laughing loud enough to carry to the road."
Her husband shrugged. "She's enjoying herself."
"Mm." The wife's mouth pressed into a thin line. "A little much, though."
Wade turned toward them, his smile fading. Not angry. Just firm. "I'm helping her father's business, and Shelby is a big part of that. We'd be in a hell of a mess without her."
The ranch wife blinked and took a step back, her face going pink. "Oh, I didn't mean anything by it. I just?—"
"I know you didn't." Wade's smile came back, easy and dismissive. He looked at Shelby, and his voice gentled. "Some people don't understand how complicated this kind of negotiation is. You're doing great work, Shelby. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Shelby lowered her eyes and folded her hands in front of her, a small show of modesty, and I watched her do it.
The ranch wife turned away, her cheeks still flushed. Her husband muttered something I couldn't hear and steered her toward the drinks table.
I kept my eyes on Wade. I watched the side of his face and the set of his shoulders, his boots planted in the grass. His face stayed turned toward Shelby and the ranchers. It never came across the lawn to me.
I looked down at my ring. The thin gold band gleamed in the low sunlight. I twisted it with my thumb. It turned easily, loose enough that I could slide it halfway off my finger without even trying.
The musicians started playing. Some old country song I didn't recognize, slow and lilting. Couples began drifting toward the clearing near the tables, and I watched Wade lean toward Shelby and say something close to her ear.
She laughed and nodded.
He offered her his hand.
She took it.
They stepped into the clearing together, and Wade's hand settled at her waist, easy and natural.
Her hand came up to rest on his shoulder, and the white dress moved as they began to turn.
The fabric caught the light with every step, and I couldn't look away.
I didn't step closer. I stood where I was with my glass held against my chest and kept my eyes on them.
The song went on forever. I shifted the glass from one hand to the other and watched his hand at her waist and hers on his shoulder.
Verse after verse, chorus after chorus, and they kept dancing.
Wade said something, and Shelby tipped her head back and laughed.
He smiled down at her, his expression open and warm. His eyes creased at the corners.
I remembered standing outside the ranch office two days ago, hearing his voice through the closed door. I'd love to have you at the party, Shelby. I'd turned and walked away without saying a word.
I looked across the yard. Marlene stood near the tables, a glass of champagne in her hand, watching me. Not the dance. Not Wade and Shelby moving together under the cottonwoods. Me.
Our eyes met.
I didn't move. I didn't let my face change. I lifted the wine glass to my mouth and took another sip, keeping my expression smooth and calm and pleasant.
She smiled. Small and knowing and satisfied.
Then she turned back to the crowd, raising her champagne glass to toast something I couldn't hear.
I set my wine glass down on the nearest table. My hand was steady. I didn't look at Wade or Shelby or Marlene. I just turned and walked toward our house, my pace even and unhurried, like I was stepping inside for a moment and would be right back.
Nobody called after me.
Nobody noticed.
My truck was parked near the barn, the keys in my pocket, but I didn't go to it. Not yet. I slipped through the side door of our house and into the quiet of the hallway.
The house was still. Dark. I didn't turn on the lights. I walked down the hall to the bedroom, the floorboards creaking softly under my feet, and shut the door behind me. I stood with my back against it a moment and listened to the music coming faint through the wall.
The bed was made. The covers were smooth and tight, pulled up the way I'd left them that morning before I'd gone out to feed the calves. I sat on the edge and stared at it. Cold. I laid my hand flat on the sheets and they were cold under my palm.
I twisted the ring on my finger one more time. It slid over my knuckle easily, like it had been waiting for this moment. I pulled it off and held it in my palm.
I set it on the bed. Right in the center of the pillow on his side, where he'd see it the moment he walked in.
Then I stood.
I eased the bedroom door open and stepped into the hall. The house was still quiet, the only sound the faint drift of music from outside. Laughter. Voices.
I walked to the side door and pushed it open. The cool air hit my face, sharp and clean. I pulled the door shut behind me until the latch clicked softly, and crossed the gravel drive to my truck.
The key turned once in the ignition. Nothing.
I turned it again, and the engine caught.
I put the truck in gear and drove down the long driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. The ranch shrank in the rearview mirror, the sound of the music fading with it. I kept my eyes on the road stretching out ahead of me, long and empty and mine.
I didn't know where I was going. The last I saw of the party, in the mirror at the bend, was the long tables under the cottonwoods and a white dress turning in the clearing.