Page 75 of Homewrecker

Voicemail.

I didn’t leave one.

At 2:39, I stopped watching television.

At 3:11, I stopped pretending I was awake because I wasn’t tired. I was exhausted, but I just didn’t want to fall asleep before he came home.

I stared at the framed picture of us across the bedroom. I focused on that and not the fact that the man who had told me he loved me for the first time had immediately walked out the door to go take care of his wife. He loves me. That was the thought I fell asleep holding.

Morning light woke me. For a few seconds, I smiled. Then I reached across the bed and it was empty.

My eyes opened and I sat up. “Caleb?”

The apartment was silent. I checked my phone. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing.

7:42 a.m.

My stomach dropped. I called and it went straight to voicemail. I got out of bed, folded his shirt and placed it on his side. I got dressed and brushed my teeth. I grabbed my purse before stopping beside the bookshelf looking at our first picture. I left before I convinced myself to stay longer.

I stopped at a red light and checked my phone again. Still nothing. I felt defeated. I had spent six months believing I wasn’t competing with Ravenna. That morning was the first time I wondered if maybe the reason it hadn’t felt like a competition was because Ravenna didn’t know she was in one.

My phone buzzed as I pulled into my driveway. My heart jumped, so I grabbed it.

Caleb: I’m sorry. Long night. I’ll explain.

I stared at the message, turned the phone facedown, and walked inside.

That day, his apartment didn’t feel like proof that he’d chosen me. It felt like a place he’d built to keep two parts of his life from ever having to touch.

11

Blair

I had created some beautiful shit in my career. The homes that I decorated ended up in magazines. The hotel that I designed was where influencers took pictures in.

I stood in the center of the room fifteen minutes before the doors opened and slowly turned in a circle. Everything had come together exactly how I’d imagined it. The original building had been cold and my client wanted luxury. A place people could walk into and immediately feel expensive.

“I fucking did that.”

I jumped and spun around before I saw Klair standing behind me.

“Why are you talking to yourself?” she asked, looking at me crazy.

“I wasn’t.”

“You just congratulated yourself.”

“Because nobody understands my vision like me.”

She stepped beside me and looked around. “You did your thing.”

I smiled. “You look cute.”

Klair looked me up and down. “You look stressed.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve checked the door twelve times.”