Chapter 3
Sam
I woke up some time during the night.
I lay in bed for a while with my eyes closed even though I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep again. I had always slept badly, managing a few hours at best. Even as a child, I was unable to sleep more than four or five hours a night. I usually got up, went for a run, or did some work.
But not tonight.
I checked my watch. It was 03:32. I could hear the wind in the trees outside, but the house was silent, everyone was asleep. I got up and slowly, walked through the house, quietly, my bare feet making no noise. This part of the house, upstairs, was carpeted, with a deep pile rug that absorbed all noise. I didn’t think about anyone hearing me. I was used to roaming my house at night.
I remembered when Skye and I had finally found this place, shortly before our marriage. Things were still good between us. Sort of. We were on the same page, at least, or I thought we were. Her father had warned me that she was demanding, but I thought she knew what our life would be like. She knew I was all about my work, that we wouldn’t be attending parties every weekend. She liked that, I could tell, that I was ambitious. She said we didn’t have to do everything together. She was happy with her own life, a circle of girlfriends from college. They were into fashion and shopping, things I could not care less about. I liked that she went away on shopping weekends in New York, leaving me to get on with my life. We gave each other space. It was perfect.
When it came to buying our own place, we took our time picking our new home. Skye favored newer builds, the modern penthouses, but I liked the older, more elegant houses outside of the city. We looked at so many places, never quite finding what we were looking for. But this house, somehow, appealed to both of us. It had a long driveway, a vast garden with established trees giving us lots of privacy. It was a dignified and historic mansion, but it had been renovated by its previous owners. I told Skye she could decorate it however she wanted, buy new furniture, whatever it cost. It kept her busy for the first few months after the wedding. The kitchen was remodeled, and she knocked down a wall in one of the bedrooms to create a walk-in closet. No expense was spared. The bathrooms were redone. Bathtubs were imported from Italy. We had a suite all to ourselves on one side of the house. I don’t think she knew she wouldn’t even spend a year here, with me.
I thought of my room as a boy, so small that it had felt like a prison cell. I had always dreamed of a big house, where there were many bedrooms, more than were strictly necessary. I liked the idea of space and physical distance from other people.
I walked to Ethan’s room.
I opened the door, carefully, not wanting to wake him. Ethan was soundly asleep, a night light casting a soft glow on his peaceful face. His room had been tastefully furnished, in muted colors. Skye had spent so much time picking toys and framed pictures for the walls. As it turned out, motherhood had not been for her. Not what she’d expected.
Natalie’s room was right next door.
I stood outside it.
I thought about going in.
Natalie had been working here for almost a week. I tried to avoid her, but it was inevitable that we would be in the same room sometimes. I had asked Dana to find someone else, but no one seemed to be quite right. It annoyed me, that Natalie should be the only person suitable to work for me.
I was spending too much time thinking about her.
I needed to be sharp, on top of my game. I was on the cusp of several significant agreements with major clients. My business was expanding, the Luma software was getting a reputation as the best project and time management tool on the market. But competition was stiff, and I was working on making the program smoother, even easier to incorporate in several company systems. I had so many things to focus on.
But since Natalie’s arrival, I found myself thinking about her when I shouldn’t, wondering what had happened to her since I’d seen her last. I found myself looking forward to getting home after work. I didn’t like what she was doing to my head. I forced myself to exercise more and I was curt with her, rude even.
When I came down to the kitchen that morning, she was making breakfast for Ethan while he was in the playroom.
“What’re you doing?” I snapped at her. She started explaining about Ethan’s breakfast.
“It’s a Tuesday,” I interrupted her. “You should have left for music class already.”
“Music class?” she seemed confused.
“Didn’t Dana give you his schedule?” I demanded.
She blinked and checked the fridge where all Ethan’s activities and daily tasks were stuck up. One of the pieces of paper was his weekly calendar. I knew it hadn’t been up there before because I had only printed it out the night before. I had made some changes to it, adding an extra music class that had been arranged only the week before.
I ripped it from the fridge and thrust it in her hand.
“You should know this!” I barked. “Routine is vital for a child like Ethan!”
I was being unfair, and I knew it.
But Natalie only stood there, taking it, which infuriated me even more.
“Don’t let this happen again!” I snarled, slamming my empty cereal bowl on the counter. It made a loud cracking noise, and I knew I’d broken it.
“You will have to call and reschedule the class!”