Chapter 4
The next morning, Grant called.
I let it ring three times before answering.
“Celeste,” he said. His voice was tight. Annoyed. Not concerned. Not apologetic. “You need to come home. You made a scene yesterday. Mother is beside herself. People are talking.”
I stared at the wall. He was worried about Dorothea. About what people were saying.
He wasn’t asking if I was warm. If I was dry. If his baby was all right.
“I’m not coming home, Grant,” I said.
He paused. Like he hadn’t expected those words.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “This is your home. We’re your family. You’re being irrational. Just apologize to Mother, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
“Apologize?” I said. I laughed. A sharp, bitter sound. “She poured ice water over me in front of your entire family. Sloan was sitting in my chair. In my house. And you want me to apologize?”
“Mother was upset,” he said. “You embarrassed her. You arrived unannounced—”
“I was invited!” I cut him off. “You invited me, Grant. Two days ago. You said ‘Sunday lunch, don’t be late.’”
Silence on the other end.
Then: “Well, things changed. You should have been more understanding. Sloan is important to the firm. Mother wants her comfortable. You… you’re my wife. You should understand sacrifices.”
Sacrifices.
So I was supposed to sacrifice my dignity. My place in my own family. My home. So his mistress could be comfortable.
“I understand now, Grant,” I said quietly. “Everything. How long? How long have you been with her?”
He hesitated. Just a moment. Then he sighed, like this was such an inconvenience.
“Since you got pregnant,” he said. “Look, Celeste, you were sick all the time. Tired. Moody. It was difficult. Sloan understands the pressure I’m under. She supports me. You… you just needed too much.”
Seven months.
Seven months of me struggling with morning sickness. Seven months of me trying to keep up with work and home and this pregnancy. Seven months of me wondering why he was distant, why he was never home, why he looked at me like I was a burden.
All because he had already replaced me.
“You told me I was imagining things,” I said. “You told me I was being paranoid. That Sloan was just a colleague.”
“She is,” he said quickly. “But things developed. Celeste, let’s not fight. Come home. We’ll work something out. But you need to understand—Sloan is part of my life now. Mother adores her. And she’s… well, she’s not expecting. She doesn’t need the same attention you do.”
I gripped the phone so tight my fingers ached.
“So you’re asking me to accept her?” I said. “To stay in this marriage while you have another woman?”
“I’m asking you to be reasonable,” he said. “This is how things are done. In our family—”
“Your family can go to hell,” I said.
May you like
I hung up.
And then I blocked his number.
