Recap of Chapter 4: Miriam enjoys her last night of the cruise in the company of admirers, which isn’t a bad way to wrap up her trip. Charlotte confides in her best friend that she thinks Frank is having an affair. And Callie is reminded how attractive her ex-husband is. Watching him horse around with their boys stirs up old feelings she can’t explain.
Callie awoke naturally at 6 am. She blinked awake, spied the haze of dawn peeking through the open shades, and stretched. She quickly realized she wasn’t alone. The fact that she was naked was her first clue. Troy’s back was to her, his breathing even and steady. She grimaced, then shrugged. Okay, so she’d fallen into bed with her ex. What was the big deal? As long as the boys were no wiser, there was no harm. They both acknowledged that it wasn’t the sex that split them up. Last night was a reminder of that fact. She smiled wickedly with the memory. Inspired, she reached under the sheet, running her hand down the contours of his strong back and back up to his shoulder blades. She playfully tugged his ear lobe, which made him stir. He rolled over to face her, pulling her close. “Good morning,” he said in a sleepy voice. “Good morning,” she replied. “Last night was a pleasant surprise,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Remind me again why we’re not still married? It isn’t a lack of chemistry, I know that much. You were on fire!” He pulled her closer. She ran her hand playfully across his bare chest. “You weren’t so bad yourself. But we have to take action here before the boys wake up. We have to get you outta here.” Troy ran his free hand over his face. “You’re right, of course. I know that. But, before I slink out like some trespasser, do we have enough time for a repeat performance?” He lifted the sheet to give her a good view of his naked body, and in a deft move, he rolled, maneuvering her body underneath as he positioned himself on top of her. He looked at her tenderly for a moment before kissing her passionately.
Charlotte rolled her carryon, following a line of fellow passengers onto the plane. She once again felt grateful for being tall enough to manage the stowing of her luggage in the overhead compartment. She settled into her window seat and tucked her leather tote under the seat. After being confronted with proof of her husband’s infidelity, there was no speculation as to where her marriage stood. What was stopping her from just disappearing for a while? It took about two minutes for her to execute a plan to bug out. With her kids grown, she could easily hop on a plane with little notice. And she felt no obligation to consider her husband’s state of mind when he discovered her missing. Let him wonder where she was at night, while he waited at home, wringing his hands. He wanted to play risky games? He could suffer the consequences. She booked the first plane to Portland, which just so happened to be scheduled at a time when she could avoid seeing her husband before she left. She didn’t even leave a note. She did text the kids, letting them know she was visiting her sister and could be reached on her cellphone. She could imagine Frank, unable to find her, panicking and reaching out to the kids to try to find out if they’d heard from her. Try explaining that to them, Frank, you faithless bastard. A nice-looking man about her age stepped into the aisle. He smiled appreciatively at her as he settled into the middle seat. As the plane filled, he began making small talk. “Is Portland your final destination?” he asked. Charlotte was suddenly distracted by his strong jawline, thick sandy hair, and striking blue eyes. He smiled, revealing beautiful white teeth and a prominent dimple in his right cheek.
“Uh, yes, it is,” she replied, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “I’m going to visit my sister.”
“Let him wonder where she was at night, while he waited at home, wringing his hands.”
“Well, that sounds fun. I know when my sisters get together—all four of them—they stay up all night talking and laughing. About what, I can’t imagine, but they can’t get enough of it.” He smiled, picturing it in his mind. “Is it like that with you and your sister?” Studying his beautiful face, Charlotte realized she was staring and she hadn’t answered him. After a few more beats, she came to her senses. “Oh, yes, pretty much,” she stumbled. “We don’t get to see each other as often as I’d like, but when we do get together, we talk a lot. I guess it’s a universal sister thing.” And so began a lovely conversation that continued for the duration of the 31⁄2-hour flight. Charlotte was grateful for the distraction and flattered by the attention of the handsome and engaging stranger who wound up in the seat next to her on this last-minute flight.
Meanwhile, Frank arrived home around 10 pm, practicing his excuse in his head. He’d been later than he’d expected—post-op complications that he needed to keep an eye on. The details weren’t that important. He knew she’d accept whatever he told her. He could count on her support like that. He took a cursory inventory of his appearance in the foyer mirror, hoping he didn’t look like someone who’d just tumbled out of a hotel bed. Guilt washed over him briefly, oddly paired with a sense of giddy elation over getting away with something. The sensation was intoxicating. He might have questioned what he was doing if he hadn’t been so focused on not getting caught. He took a deep breath and then stepped into the living room. “Hey, Char, I’m home,” he called, forcing normalcy into his voice, as he hung up his keys on the hook and shrugged out of his coat. He started with his excuse before she could ask. It was a tried and true strategy. “Work was brutal,” he began, as he leafed through the mail on the counter. Then he realized she hadn’t answered him. The kitchen looked untouched, but it was late. She might have gone to bed. He turned out the under counter light, poured a glass of mineral water, and headed up the stairs. When he got to the second floor, he realized it was pitch black—no signs of life. He flipped on the bedside lamp on his side of the bed. The bed had obviously not been slept in. The decorative pillows were still stacked, dents creasing the tops. The throw was still artfully draped on the corner of the mattress. Frank frowned. He wondered if he’d missed a note, so he stripped down to his boxers, slipped on a robe, stepped into his bedside slippers and headed downstairs.
Knowing she wasn’t asleep, he called out, “Char? Charlotte?” No answer. He turned on the harsh overhead light in the kitchen, squinting against the bright assault. His eyes scanned all the usual places for a note. He saw nothing. He moved into the living room, his eyes darting to all possible locations a note might have been left. Nothing. He picked up his phone from the counter where he’d dropped it when he came inside. He checked for messages. Nothing from Charlotte. That’s odd, he thought. He pondered his next move. Where could she be? He tapped out a text, “Hey, Char—I’m home but you’re not. Where are you?” He waited for a reply, but the minutes ticked by and there was no response. He raked his hands through his hair, his agitation mounting. This was new territory. His wife was steady, solid, always available to him. This was so unlike her. There had to be an explanation, but… what could it possibly be? As he stood there, his mind racing, he was unable to make sense of it. Wild-eyed and frustrated, he slammed his hands down on the marble counter with an agitated roar that echoed in the empty room.
