“A child?”
The incandescent glow of the last of the summer’s sunsets blistered the sky as the sun tucked beneath one of the larger hills behind my sister’s house, lighting her in thick oranges and pinks as we sat on the balcony. She’d never been one for the city, but never wanted to move far from home, either. Woodacre, a small unincorporated town just outside of San Francisco, was perfect for her.
“Apparently,” I sighed. “I don’t understand why Marissa never told me. And if she knew she was… dying, why didn’t she reach out? Why didn’t she prepare me for this?”
Caroline sipped at her glass of red wine as she relaxed back into her lounge chair, her patterned skirt blowing in the breeze. “I don’t know, Dame. Didn’t it end amicably?”
“It wasn’t great but honestly, I didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant not telling me about a fucking son,” I said. Scrubbing at my stubble with the tips of my fingers, I watched as a bird flew above us, far too high for me to tell what kind it was. “I’m waiting on the results of a paternity test.”
She nearly spat out her mouthful of red wine. “A paternity test? Do you not believe her? I would have killed Anthony if he’d asked for a paternity test over Lucas.”
I shrugged. Her husband, fleeting as he was before his death, wasn’t exactly the nicest person around. I wouldn’t have been shocked if he had asked for that — but I wouldn’t have been happy with him, either. “She wasn’t faithful at the end. That’s why we split. Noah might not even be mine and she could have just hoped that saying he was would mean the kid got a pretty cushy life with me.”
“I liked Marissa,” she said, her lips pursing as she turned her head to face me. Long strands of auburn hair blew across her cheeks in the breeze, and I could have sworn that looking into her eyes sometimes felt like looking into the mirror. “I don’t think that’s something she would have done.”
“I’d rather know for certain.”
“I get that. But you can’t just pretend that she is—was—some monster that wanted to ruin your life.” She sipped at her wine again, and again, nearly draining half of the too-full glass. Caroline had never been one to play by the rules of society, whether that meant loudly attending protests or beating down archaic rules like how much wine is acceptable to pour into a glass. “You wanted to marry her, for God’s sake.”
“And that was a mistake.”
“I mean… yes, in the long run,” she said, her stare beginning to look through me instead of at me, as if she was recalling my entire relationship with Marissa. “But you were in love with her. For two years, you were the happiest I’d ever seen you. I think you forget just how much you trusted her.”
I steeled my jaw. “I haven’t forgotten that. That’s why I don’t trust as freely anymore — I can’t forget that.”
“Then why question her motives?”
I loved my sister. Truly. But speaking with her, easy as it was, sometimes felt like slamming my head against a brick wall. “Because she hid a child from me for five years,” I seethed, knocking back the rest of my glass and setting it slightly too harshly on the little wicker table between us. “You’d question everything, too.”
She hummed her agreement as she turned back to the view over the hills and forests. Behind her, the hot tub boiled loudly, its cover snugly in place over the top of it. We dropped into a comfortable quiet between us, listening to the steady boil, the chirping birds, and the rustle of the trees. I understood why she liked it out here — it was a far nicer atmosphere than the veranda of my home back in San Francisco.
I spun the ring on my pinky finger absentmindedly, and my thoughts descended back to Olivia. I hadn’t responded to her text from yesterday quite yet — I wasn’t sure how I wanted to go about it. On one hand, I wanted the annulment, wanted to free myself of the tie to her so I could go back to my normal life and she could have what she wanted. But on the other, the one with the devil on its shoulder, I wanted to claim the prize I’d won. I still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, and I worried that if I didn’t use our marriage to its full advantage because of her views, I’d end up obsessed with her for the rest of my fucking life.
“There’s something else,” I muttered, so quiet I worried Caroline couldn’t hear me.
“Something more pressing than a son?” she said, letting out a breathy chuckle before downing the rest of her glass.
“You’ll want to refill that before I say it.”
She turned to me, her brows knitting as she blinked at me, and picked up the bottle from where it rested on the wooden deck beside her chair. She filled hers and held it out to me — I gladly took it.
I downed two gulps straight from the bottle.
“Fucker,” she hissed.
Tucking the bottle between my thighs, I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to be frank, Carrie.”
She clutched her glass of wine in her hand, preparing for the worst. “I already hate this—”
“I’m married.”
Silence.
Utter horrible silence. Even the hot tub ceased its noise, seeming to have decided that now was the best time for it to get up to temperature.
“Say something,” I begged.
But she didn’t. She just stared at me, waiting, wanting more of an explanation. Even her expression didn’t change — just a blank, unending gaze.
“Vegas,” I offered, trying to give her a playful smile but falling severely short.
“Damien.”
“We’re getting an annulment.”
“Who is it?” she pressed, but from the disappointment coating her features, I could tell she was already hazarding a somewhat correct guess.
“Does it matter if I’m getting an annulment?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
I cursed under my breath and took another swig of wine from the bottle, and then another. “She’s an intern at Blackwood.”
“Of fucking course she is.”
“Actually, technically, as of next week, she’ll be a full-time employee.”
“How old is she?” she deadpanned, her bright red lips pursing.
“I think she’s twenty-four.”
“Christ, Dame. She could be your kid,” she groaned, setting down her glass of wine so she could have both hands free to rub at her temples. “You’re lucky she’s agreed to the annulment. Assuming you didn’t do a prenup ‘cause you were probably drunk out of your fucking skull, she could have tried to stick with you and force you into a divorce.”
The thought of that hadn’t even crossed my mind. “She freaked out when she realized what had happened. She wanted the annulment.”
“You’re extra fucking lucky, then.”
But it didn’t feel like it. Not when I was plagued with thoughts of her every Goddamn second of the day, not when she infiltrated my dreams at night, not when she was the only thing I could think of when I tugged myself to completion three times a fucking day because just the idea of her made me so horny I could barely function. That didn’t feel like luck — it felt like a curse.
“Try to keep your distance from her,” she sighed. “You don’t want her to change her mind and try to wring you for all you’re worth, especially now that you’ve got… what did you say his name was? Nigel?”
I cringed at the idea that my son could be named Nigel. “Noah,” I corrected. But she was right — if Olivia, for some reason, pushed for a divorce instead, custody would be a consideration. The money… I couldn’t care less about it. Having half of what I had now wouldn’t make a single difference in my life.
“Noah,” she hummed. “It’s a cute name. Especially if he looks like you.”
“Supposedly, he does.”
“Do I get to meet him?” she asked, her little grin creeping back into her features as she softened at the idea. “Noah and Lucas could be best friends.”
“No, I’m going to keep him from you forever,” I laughed. I hadn’t even given it all more than a passing thought in the back of the car the other day, but the idea of having a son who was genuinely mine and being able to introduce him to my family made my chest warm just a little bit.
Caroline reached across us, smacking my forearm with the back of her hand. “Asshole. I’ll just have to kidnap him.”
“Fucking try, Carrie.”
She laughed as I drank the last drops out of the bottle, the wind carrying her fit of giggles over the treetops. It was nice — calming, even, to see her relax into the idea like I wished I could.
“You’ll need to prepare,” she said, her laughter dying down and being replaced with a grin. “A bed, some toys, clothes, that kind of stuff. Your house isn’t exactly child-friendly, either. And you’ll need someone to watch him. I can occasionally, as long as Lucas doesn’t kick up a fuss about it.”
Fuck. I hadn’t thought of any of that, either.
I wasn’t used to children. It wasn’t that I didn’t necessarily want one — I just hadn’t even gotten to that point with anyone where I was seriously considering it, except for Marissa. Even then, we had never gone too far into detail, just idealistic imaginings of what our life would look like if we had gotten married. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, and that covered everything as far as I was concerned.
But I didn’t have that.
Briefly, so quickly that I caught the thought and shoved it back into its locked little box, I wondered if my wife would be willing to watch him. But Olivia was only my wife on paper, and putting that responsibility on someone so eager to further herself professionally felt like an insult when she desperately wanted out of our situation.
I couldn’t consider it. Wouldn’t. Shouldn’t.
————
The lobby of Blackwood Energy Solutions was clearing out as the workday came to a close. It was nearing six in the evening, and those who had stayed late were the last to leave, including myself.
Coming down the elevator, I couldn’t help but notice the small group of interns huddled in the center of the room, their lanyards giving them away. A handful clocked me and dispersed, scurrying toward the exit as if I were a fucking wolf, but four of them stayed — one head of chestnut hair in particular not even caring to look across the room as my feet touched down on the poured cement floor.
Olivia stood beside a man a couple of inches taller than her, her waves flowing over each shoulder as she played with the ends. Despite the black slacks, black heels, and tucked-in, white button-up, it felt like every inch of her was showing, like she was tempting me.
Like she was tempting him.
He grinned down at her, his blonde curls hanging around his cheeks. His lips moved but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. I moved closer, nearly crashing into John from accounting but sidestepping him at the last possible second.
“Maybe dinner, or a movie?”
I paused.
“Oh, uh, yeah, I mean maybe,” Olivia said, her voice a little quivery. “I’m really busy lately but—”
“You can make time,” he drawled. His tongue glided across his upper teeth as he leaned in a little, one hand pushing a hanging chestnut wave behind her ear. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about keeping on top of things. Unless it’s me.”
I moved before I’d even decided to.
Coming up behind her and grabbing her by the wrist, I tugged her back half a step, nearly sending her careening into my chest. “Ms. Martin,” I hissed.
She spun on a dime, her cheeks heating and coating her face in a deep pink. “I was having a conversation.”
“One that seemed wholly inappropriate for the office,” I snapped, shooting a glare over her shoulder at the man she’d been speaking to. His name tag read Charles Stipender, and I nearly cringed at the idea of her going out with a man with that silly of a name.
“Like you care about inappropriate conversations here,” she seethed, her voice low enough that only I’d hear it.
She had a point.
“As far as I was aware, the workday ended an hour ago,” she added, her brows knitting as she glared up at me. But behind her, Charles was already retreating, heading straight for the revolving door at the entrance. “I can speak to whoever I want.”
Her plump, tinted red lips pursed, and instantly, I was back in the restaurant at the Bellagio, those same lips closing over my thumb, her eyes batting up at me as if it was the most innocent thing she could have possibly done.
Fuck, I wanted her.
Screw what Caroline said.
“Fine. Speak to who you want. But there are some things we need to discuss, privately,” I said, tightening my hold on her wrist. She didn’t even fight it.
“Now?” she asked, her eyes widening as she glanced around at the few people still nearby. “Can we go up to your off—”
“No. Come to my house tonight.” I let her go, taking a brief step back before we could draw too much suspicion from wandering eyes. “We’ve got paperwork to go over.”
She studied me, her mouth parting, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my lips. “That feels like a trap.”
I shrugged and took a single step to her side, leaning in just briefly and catching a wave of her perfume. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
