Chapter 4
Chapter Four
TREVOR
One Week Later
“Where are we going to lunch today?” an excited Krista asks from the doorway.
She’s leaning against the open door, dressed in a black pencil skirt and a silky blue top.
The color makes her light blue eyes bright against her tanned face.
Her blond hair is loose and smooth over her mostly bare, slender shoulders.
I pop my eyes back up to meet hers. A flash of something crosses over her features before she taps her fingernails on the wall.
I was annoyed with my mother when she made the suggestion to me weeks ago, but spending the workday with Krista has become something I look forward to from the moment I walk through the doors every morning.
She’s a breath of fresh air in this soulless place, and the fact that she sees my father for what he is and looks out for me while at work makes her an excellent companion.
A “partner in crime,” as she likes to put it.
“I was thinking a quick bite at Rosie’s Grill while they finally get that stink out of the vents.
” I wave my hand in front of my face in an exaggerated way for emphasis.
“I could use a sandwich today, don’t you think?
” She shifts through the door and saunters up to my desk, where she props against it.
“Yes. That sounds perfect.” Krista leans into me and says privately, “Your father just went into the break room, but we should give it a couple of minutes before we can make a clean escape.”
I meet her eyes, grateful for her interference, and move closer to respond. A clearing of a throat at the door stops me in my tracks. I redirect my attention and find my baby sister standing there with a frown marring her face. Probably running some silly errand for Mom.
“Hey, Trevor, I was stopping by to talk to Dad about something.” She eyes Krista where she stands, leaning against my desk, before meeting my eyes again with a raised brow. I think I see Krista smirk before straightening up. But when I look at her directly, she’s just smiling at her friend.
“He’s in the break room.”
“Really? I—”
“You also won’t see Bobby. He’s already out to lunch with a client.”
“Oh, okay. Well, thanks.”
I look between the two women in confusion. There’s a lot of underlying tension in here. Aren’t these two friends? What did Bethany do to make Krista act this way?
Bethany has gotten me into trouble more times in my lifetime than I can count.
She tends to complain or whine to the right person when things don’t go her way, and then goes crying to Dad to make things better.
I can’t count the number of times my father has had something to say about making sure I included her in one thing or another.
Word would always get back to him if or when I didn’t, and I always knew it was Bethany.
She gives us a strained grimace and another loaded look at the space between Krista and me that makes me sit up a little straighter. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you later,” she says hesitantly. Then she walks away.
Odd interaction all around.
Krista drops her voice. “I hope she doesn’t say anything to Paige.” I whip my head back around to look at her.
“Say what, exactly?”
“You know how she gets.” Krista sighs and leans over my desk, her shirt dipping with the move. “She’s going to start telling rumors. I just know she’s going to make it seem like this”—she moves her finger between us— “is something more than it actually is.”
I actually laugh. “I think everyone in Briar Ridge—hell, in the whole-ass county—knows that Paige holds my heart and soul in the palm of her hand.”
Krista hums and looks at her watch. “We’d better head out now if we want to make it before the lunch rush and if we want to stay out of maintenance’s way.”
I check the time, too, and agree. “It’s stupid that they can’t clean in here during the night, don’t you think?” I pocket my keys and search for my phone.
“Right here.” She passes it to me, reading my mind as usual.
“Thanks.” I shake off the weird tension of the last few minutes and guide her to the door. “Do you need to grab anything?”
“I’m ready when you are,” she answers with a flash of her white teeth.
We head out to my car, passing Bobby on the way out. He dips his chin at me and completely ignores Krista beside me. Rude.
Krista slips into the passenger seat of my car, and I climb in behind the wheel.
A couple of weeks ago, on our way out to lunch, she brought up a good point.
It was ridiculous for us to drive separately whenever we had lunch together, so I’ve been her unofficial chauffeur for our lunches out.
Besides, I’m the boss. I should be spending the gas money.
Krista digs into the peppermint container and pops one into her mouth. “I’m so excited to try their new drink,” she gushes, bouncing in her seat.
“Is it some sort of magic energy booster?” I could use a caffeine boost.
“No. Don’t be silly. Just order your coffee, and I’ll enjoy my dragon fruit lemonade mocktail. If you’re lucky, I’ll give you a taste.”
I roll my eyes at her excitement and pull up to Rosie’s.
My stomach grumbles. Paige’s hours have gotten ridiculous, and our normal routine has been cut out as a result.
Our morning spread of sausage, eggs, and toast or biscuits has been replaced by a quick muffin and to-go cup of coffee with a peck on the lips.
As a result, my stomach is eating itself by the time lunch rolls around—another reason I look forward to these meals.
They show us to our table, and we fall easily into office gossip and subtle jabs at my father and his pompous manner around the office.
Krista does this thing with her shoulders and chin when she imitates him, and I laugh every time.
She slurps the remainder of her drink, then sits back and assesses me, her expression turning serious.
“How are you handling the news? I haven’t had the chance to ask yet.” I give her a what the hell look, and she gasps theatrically. “You don’t know? I can’t believe Paige hasn’t told you.”
Leaning forward, I wait for her to say whatever it is my wife was supposed to tell me. When she continues to stare at me with slow-blinking eyes, I lose my patience. “What? She hasn’t told me. What?”
Krista leans forward, clasping her hands together, then resting against them. “That Caroline left Josh.”
“What?” The fuck?
“Yeah, word is, she was feeling neglected because he was spending all of his time with his nanny and her kid since Carri had the baby.” Her voice stays low and controlled as she throws my brain into a tailspin.
“His nanny,” I repeat back to her.
“Yeah.” She places her hand on mine, and I rip mine away as I stand up.
“I believe they should be done back at the office.”
She stands mutely as I snatch the bill and take it to the counter.
“I hope you and your wife enjoyed your meal.”
“She’s not—” I start, but then temper my tone. “She’s my assistant.”
The young woman sputters out an apology, but I ignore it, write in my tip, and sign the bill. “No worries. Have a good day.”
Krista is waiting at the car, clearly anxious based on the way she twists her hands together. Again, I feel guilty. None of this is her fault.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “Don’t worry about it, Krista. You figured I knew. It’s not a big deal.” She visibly relaxes before I unlock the doors. “Let’s get back to work.” Spending all of his time with his nanny and her kid. My kid. “We have a lot to get done.”
She slides into the seat next to me and pats my arm. “Whatever you say, boss.”
The Subaru is gone when I pull up to the house. I bottle up the disappointment and check my phone.
Krista
Thanks again for lunch, boss. Sry if I upset you with the news about Josh.
I consider responding, but have nothing to add. Instead, I pull up Paige’s message thread, hoping I missed her response to my earlier message.
Trevor
Hey, baby. I miss you. I’m going to be home earlier than I have been. I’ll see you then! I’ll bring dinner!
Not even read. I sigh and climb out of the car, considering everything I just learned from Krista as I enter my empty house.
Caroline quit, and Paige hasn’t told me.
When did it happen? What was the actual reason?
I drag my feet to the quiet main room of our house.
Settling onto the couch, I lean back and close my eyes.
There is also that situation with Bethany earlier. Should I be worried, like Krista seemed to think? Would my sister turn it into something it’s not? Should I talk to Paige about it?
“What the fuck is there to talk about?” “Honey, I was talking to my assistant in my office.” How about “Honey, my boss’s wife left him because of me”? My mother and Krista’s mom asked me to make sure Krista is situated in her job, not left to her own devices, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Why would I want to waste time creating problems where none exist? I would never cross a line with another woman. I have no reason to bring it up when the thought of more has never even crossed my mind.
Paige was my first and only. My dad taught me early on that it was better to get my satisfaction through other means, with less permanent consequences. It was one of the only pieces of advice I followed until I met my wife. Paige was—is—a whole other story.
Our relationship was intense from the beginning—the realest thing I’d ever felt.
It was never about getting off with her.
It was always the connection. It’s a rope, always pulling me to her like I can’t get close enough.
Not until we are as close as two people can get, but even that isn’t ever enough.
Nothing and nobody makes me feel the way that Paige does.
Our schedules are becoming harder to maintain, and while my father breathes down my neck, hoping and trying to mold me into his perfect little VP puppet, I’m being bogged down with work that doesn’t belong to me and expectations that don’t make any sense.
I’m exhausted, and I miss my wife. Selecting her contact, I press call and bring the phone to my ear—straight to voicemail. Ending the call, I tap the phone against my forehead. Once, twice, three times when the doorbell rings. I sit up in expectation, followed swiftly by disappointment.
Paige isn’t going to ring her own doorbell, you damn idiot. So who could it be? I groan, slowly rising to my feet and stretching before I go check who the hell is here. “Coming!” I shout. Then, to myself, “Hopefully, you aren’t in a hurry.”
At the front door, leaning against the porch’s support column, is Carter Stewart, one of my closest and oldest friends. I throw open the door and pull my pseudo brother in for a bro-hug—lots of back patting and all that good stuff. He looks at me with tired eyes.
“Hey, man. You busy?”
My family rejected a loan he requested a few weeks ago, but neither he nor they would let me get involved with the process.
I’m confident I’d have found a way to get it approved if he had come to me privately, but I’ll never tell him that now.
Based on his tired eyes and drooping shoulders, my good friend is already beating himself up enough.
“Nah. You want to come in?” He darts a glance over my shoulder at the door, but shakes his head.
“I’m good with chilling out here if you are.” Nodding, I pull the door closed and lean against the opposite column, shoving my hands into my pockets.
We stand in silence for a bit, and I’m completely clueless as to why he’s here. “Y’all doing anything for the fourth next week?”
As if a switch flips, his face grows goofy with affection at even the slightest mention of his woman. I don’t blame him. She’s actually perfect for him—a lovely person in general.
“No, not yet. I think Becky has been waiting for y’all’s invite. She’s half in love with your wife, so I think the answer will likely be yes.”
Everyone is half in love with my wife. Like Josh.
“What’s that face for?” Carter asks, his voice laced with humor.
“What face?”
He jabs his finger directly into my nose. “That one you’re making. Right there.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“No, that is definitely something.” He’s not going to drop it.
“Just thinking about how everyone is half in love with my wife.” I sound petulant to my own ears.
Carter guffaws at me. “Dude”—more laughter—“you are so right!”
“Thanks, brother.”
“No, your face”—he clutches his stomach and points his finger at me—“is priceless right now. Hold on.” The fucker takes out his phone and points it at me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl, reaching for his phone.
He jumps out of reach. “Oh, man. That look is it! I’m sending it to the group chat. Billy will love it.”
“Billy will, at most, send a thumbs up.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Absolutely.”
“Sent.”
Jesus fucking—
“Ha! Here, look.”
“It’s been ten seconds.” He holds his phone up for me to see the picture of me on the screen. Underneath is Carter’s caption.
Carter
When ur wifey is a hottie and a sweetheart, so everybody is half in love with her.
Billy
sounds about right.
Goddammit. Billy, you silent traitor. “Why does he choose now to communicate beyond a single emoji?”
“Never underestimate the draw of mocking a friend for his love for his wife,” Carter says, like he’s some kind of wiseman. I eye him, evaluating his haggard appearance.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and eat something? No offense, man, but you look wrecked.”
Carter opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but he closes it again with a snap.
Not very subtly, he redirects, “You look like shit, too, if we’re comparing notes.
” He gestures to me, but I’m doing fine.
“I’m good, though. I’m going to go home to my woman.
I was just nearby and wanted to swing by and say hey.
” I live outside of town, and he lives and works in town.
His reasoning is confusing, but I shrug it off.
He shakes my hand before trotting down the steps.
He turns around at the bottom. “Should we let our women take the reins for the fourth?”
I chuckle. “Do you want anything to actually happen?” He laughs, too, and walks the remaining distance to his old-ass truck. I don’t know how I missed him pulling up in that thing. He starts it up with a roar and waves out the window.
I have a strong feeling that something is going on that he’s not willing to talk about. I only hope he’ll reach out if he needs me.