Page 72 of Ripple Effect
I smother the smile trying to bloom. “Like you’ve always lived there?” I ask innocently.
“Exactly that. After everything he’s been through in this custody battle, that’s all I could hope for.”
We chat for a few moments about his young son, how he’s adapting to his new school, when my phone rings—out loud. I frown because there’s only two numbers who can get through when I set it for privacy mode: my mother and Cal. Concerned, I say, “Excuse me, that’s home.”
Quincy waves his hand. “By all means.”
My hand is already reaching in my purse pocket for my phone, and I’m stepping away from the table. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” It’s Cal.
“I’m working. Where are you?” I’m confused.
“Standing in our house wondering why our home looks like it hasn’t been inhabited.”
“Probably because I’ve been on a job for the last three weeks,” I say caustically. “When did you get home?”
“A few hours ago. I thought you might be at the office until about thirty minutes ago. When I called, they said you weren’t there. Where’s your client? Do you want to meet for dinner?”
“I’m already out to dinner. With my client,” I clarify.
Behind me, the hostess answers the phone, “Thank you for calling the Peaches Preserve. Please hold.”
There’s a pregnant pause before Cal asks, “Where are you, Libby?” His voice is quiet.
“I’m in Atlanta. I just wrapped up the job I was working on this afternoon. I’ll be home in the morning.”
“You didn’t get Rebecca’s text?” Cal sounds angry.
“I saw she texted, but I didn’t have the chance to check it as I was finishingmyjob which required completing a house in less than ten hours. I thought I had through the weekend to complete it,” I bite back. “Besides, I thought it was just going to tell me you were going to be delayed. Again.”
“I wasn’t. I was coming home. To you.”
“And tomorrow, I’ll be back. All that’s left is receiving the final payment, sleeping, and driving home,” I say firmly. “I’m happy you’re home safely. I love you, but I’m at dinner with the client right now.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Cal mutters.
Welcome to my world. I was so certain I thought it until I hear Cal’s sharply indrawn breath. Shoving past it, I whisper, “I do love you, Cal. I have to go now. I’ll call you from my hotel.”
“I love you too, Libby.” I hear the phone click in my ear. And suddenly the success of today has drained from my body, leaving me feeling hollow.
Turning, I head back to my table to wrap up my meal with Quincy. Wincing, he mutters, “Uh-oh, I recognize that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror too many times. Do you want to talk it out, or are you in the thinking stage?”
Since I don’t want to know what the look on my face says, I lift my wine to my lips and avoid the question entirely. “Is there anything you’d change about the house? Better let me know. I leave in—” I glance at my watch. “—in ten hours.”
Quincy launches into a detailed approval of every room, expounding of how much he loves it.
I’m glad because right now I need someone to love something I’ve done since I don’t much love anything about my life.
47
Calhoun
Year Four - Seven Years Ago from Present Day
“Where’s Libby?” Iris asks the minute I toss my phone onto the kitchen counter. She and Sam decided to stay over as a surprise for Libby since we’d been gone for so long. Sam takes a long pull of the beer that was one of the few edible items in our fridge.
I guess I understand why now. “She won’t be back until tomorrow. She’s wrapping up a client dinner in Atlanta.” Snagging my beer, I take a drink. “I guess we’re on our own another night.”
