Page 12 of Sins of a Husband

After the meeting ends, I glance at my watch to see how much time I have before we meet with Mr. Calloway and his attorney. Ten minutes. Just enough time to hit the bathroom before heading back to my office.

I exit the stall and stand before the sink, holding my hands under the warm water. The bathroom door opens, and Samantha walks in.

“What a horrible meeting,” she says, reaching into her purse and pulling out her lipstick. “Like we need to be reminded of the murders. It’s all that’s been on the TV for days. You know what I did last night?”

“What?” I ask.

“I held Travis really tight all night. At one point, he told me I was hurting him because I was squeezing so hard.”

“I can relate to that. I pretty much didn’t let go of Oliver all night either.”

“I’m sure this is worse for you considering—way to go, Sam.” She shakes her head. “Me and my big mouth. I’m really sorry, Kat. I didn’t mean to?—”

I lightly touch her arm. “It’s okay, Samantha. I know what those women are going through losing a husband.”

“You do, Kat. Maybe you could talk to them. Tell them your story about the accident and how you moved on.”

That was the last thing I wanted to do. “Yeah, maybe.” I smile. “I have a client meeting. I’ll see you later.”

When I enter my office, Britney Calloway sits in the chair, waiting for me.

“Are you ready?” I ask, grabbing her file from my desk.

“You bet I’m ready.” The look on her face startled me. It was pure hatred and anger.

I opened the door to conference room three and gestured for Britney to take a seat.

“Gentlemen,” I say, sitting across the table. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Mr. Calloway has agreed to everything Mrs. Calloway wants except for the house in the Hamptons and alimony,” says Mr. Striker, his attorney.

“Fuck you, Steven!” Britney points at him. “You built that house for me! That is my house!” she shouts.

“I built it for us, Britney,” he shouts back.

“Like I said. You can fuck off because I’m not letting you have it.” She folds her arms. “The only reason you want it is to takeherthere.”

Two hours later, the argument was still going on. I didn’t think Britney Calloway had it in her. When I first met her, she seemed timid—overly thin in plain clothes and mousy with straight black hair and little makeup. She didn’t strike me as the wife of a multi-millionaire.

“He’s not getting the Hampton house,” Britney says as we leave the conference room. “I’ll kill him before I let that happen.”

I was taken aback by her statement, considering two other husbands who were in the middle of a divorce were just murdered.

“Don’t worry. You’re getting the Hampton house.” I lightly touch her arm.

Chapter Eight

“It’s been a long time,Katherine. How have you been?” Dr. Burton’s deep, soothing voice echoes through the spacious office as he leans back in his plush brown leather chair.

I shift nervously on the couch opposite him, studying the diplomas and family photos on the mahogany desk behind him. “I’ve been good, Dr. Burton, until recently. I’m sure you’ve seen the news about the two men who were brutally murdered last week.”

“I have.” He nods.

“It has stirred up a lot of bad memories,” I say, fiddling with my hands.

“How are things with Oliver?” he asks.

I stare at him momentarily. Dr. Burton is a handsome and distinguished man in his late 50s. The little bit of hair he has left is snow white, accentuating his piercing blue eyes, framed by wrinkles and deep laugh lines. “Things with Oliver are perfect.”

---