Chapter 1
Calli
This is it. Tonight. The. End.
Callista Stockton slid the vodka back into the upper cabinet and flipped off the light switch. With her second martini in hand, she rounded the pristine white marble peninsula and went to the table where, once her eyes adjusted, she would still be able to see the entirety of the freshly remodeled kitchen, as well as the front door. A haunting glow emitted from the only remaining light in the house—an outrageously priced crystal pendant over the sink, the one Bennett had demanded they spend nearly six thousand dollars to have as a centerpiece in the kitchen. Shards of light created tiny rainbows on the far wall, but Calli wondered if there really was anything as bright as a rainbow that could cut through her current darkness.
The second martini had less of a bite than the first, but she still sighed loudly after the first sip, then chewed an olive to chase away the burn. She reached for the pack of Marlboro Lights and tapped it hard several times into her palm. She didn’t smoke, at least she hadn’t since she found out she was pregnant with her first son seventeen years prior. Her oh-so-loving husband, Bennett, had rejoiced when she’d given him the news of the pregnancy, and his first words after swinging her off the ground in a big hug were, I guess this means you’ll give up those nasty cigarettes. He’d urged her to quit throughout college and into their first year of marriage. She had chalked it up to his love and concern over her, then over the baby. Quitting was tough, but her baby had been the motivation she’d needed.
She pulled the gold tab, feeling a little evil satisfaction and sweet revenge as she slid the first cigarette from the pack. This would eat Bennett alive—not only the fact that she was smoking, but that she dared to do so in his house, in his brand spanking new kitchen. Strike that, Calli. This house is about to be yours. She glared at the stack of papers sitting to her right, curved from how they’d been folded and stuffed into the envelope she’d signed for with the postman that afternoon.
As soon as she’d finished reading it the first time, she called Sue to ask if her older son, Jax, could spend the night with his friend. Then she did the same for Kent. Thank God that Jill loved having Kent over to keep Colton entertained—no matter that it was a school night.
It had been two hours since Bennett’s plane from Tucson had landed. She’d checked with the airline; the flight had been on time. Since they lived twenty minutes from the airport, he should have been home long ago . . . or at any minute now. Reaching for the lighter, she watched the door and waited, hoping that he’d come in just as she lit the thing. He didn’t.
She pressed the button—no roller or actual flame, just a click and a little burning glow. That was one more thing that was no longer the same. Bringing the glow to the end of the cigarette, she pulled the smoke into her mouth as the end sizzled, then inhaled. Immediately, her throat and lungs constricted, spasming against the burning infiltration. Calli coughed, hard. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t extinguish the thing. Instead, she stared at the smoke licking from the end, at the paper burning back and creating ash. She smelled the air. That freshly lit smell was already turning into rancid, old-smoke stench. It was gross. She wasn’t about to become a smoker again, but she hoped to make a point tonight.
She tried again, taking a small drag on the butt. The taste wasn’t any better, so she laid it down in the bowl sitting by her martini glass and smirked at the sight. Bennett’s grandmother’s fine china bowl with the gold-inlaid ring became her ashtray. He’d just love that part too. Good.
Calli let the cigarette burn to a stump, then stabbed it out and stirred the ashes in hopes that it’d look like she’d actually smoked it. She read through the first paper in the stack again, an unnecessary action as she’d already memorized the important parts and rehearsed what she’d say to her philandering husband. She waited. A fight for the ages was in store for the evening.
An hour and a half later, the security system beeped, announcing that a door had been opened. Calli, still seated at the dining room table, looked up to see Bennett sneaking inside as quietly as possible. He lifted the rolling suitcase and gently placed it beside the front door and hung his shoulder bag over the stair rail, careful not to make much sound. Of course, he thought the house was asleep. It normally would have been at eleven on a weekday.
Calli had lost much of her gusto as her two drinks settled and she had waited. She’d let several more cigarettes burn and had ripped the envelope to shreds. The evidence of her fidgety wait sat in a pile next to the fine china turned ashtray. Mildly, she said, “I expected you’d have been here hours ago.”
Despite her resigned and quiet tone, Bennett startled, just about jumping out of his skin. He wore a suit, but the shirt was already half unbuttoned, and the tie hung loose. He stammered, “I . . . uh . . . ”
Calli held up a hand and rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to hear any excuses about how traffic was bad or he got a call from the office or whatever he wanted to make up this time. She would have thought he’d been more practiced at lying to her since he’d been doing it for nearly sixteen years that she could reckon.
She didn’t look away from him though. She wanted to see the shock and surprise as he took in the sight of her at the table, the empty martini in hand, the cigarette box and lighter scattered beside the delicate bowl with extinguished butts. In his reaction, he didn’t let her down. With every step he took toward the dinette, his jaw dropped a little further open and his hands spread as if to ask, What the fuck? Though she wanted to celebrate the fact that she’d stabbed him and drawn a reaction, Calli schooled her expression to neutral and reached for the papers.
“Are you smoking?” Bennett asked. “Where are the boys?”
She ignored his questions. Her voice dry and husky from the smoking attempt, she summarized the key pieces of the summons in her hand: “Wallace County District Court. Jolene Hodge, plaintiff, has filed a claim for child support against Bennett Stockton, defendant.”
Bennett shifted out of his cautious approach, rushed to the table, and snatched the papers from Calli’s hand. “How dare she?” he said, outraged.
“I presume that means you know this Jolene Hodge person.”
“It’s impossible that the kid is mine!”
“ . . . and you knew she was pregnant.”
“What?” He snapped his head up from the documents. “Oh, no.”
Calli didn’t try to hide how exasperated she felt as she let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “I thought we were past your affairs. I thought you had listened to the therapist. I thought we were getting back to being partners in this marriage.” She fell back against the chair with her arms crossed. “Obviously, I thought wrong.”
“No. Cal . . . ” His voice slipped into that soothing tone he’d used on her too many times before. Actually, placating was probably the better description.
His attempt to calm her wasn’t going to work now. She simply glared at him. Heedless of everything she thought her look would say to him, he continued. “Jolene is old news. Before we started seeing a therapist.”
“Really, Ben? Her name isn’t familiar.” Calli shook her head. She’d done the math. “The papers say the baby is two months old.” She raised a questioning brow at her husband. They had been going to the therapist for nearly eighteen months, and one of the conditions in redeveloping their trust was that everything was put on the table. Clearly, he’d assumed he was exempt from yet another rule.