CHAPTER1
SAM
“We’re late.”
I toss my wife a sideways glance and steer into a park right outside the restaurant. As always, she looks perfect, with not a strand of dyed blonde hair out of place, her makeup so thick that I’m afraid her face will crack if she decides to grace me with a rare smile.
“If we’re late, it’s because you spent five hours getting ready,” I can’t help saying. Baiting her is one of my only pleasures these days.
“No, it’s because you spend all hours in your stupid classroom after school to avoid coming home to your family,” Marissa fires back, her brown eyes full of fight. “If you’d been home earlier to look after your daughter, then I’d have been able to get ready a lot faster.”
I turn off the engine and sigh. There might be some truth in me spending more time than necessary away from home, but it’s got nothing to do with not wanting to spend time with my daughter. With her blonde curls, green eyes, and a chuckle that melts my heart, I love Kelsie more than anything. It’s my wife who makes being at home so un-fucking-bearable.
Things between us had never been easy for Marissa and me, but lately, it feels like every conversation ends in a fight. I can’t even open my mouth without her becoming defensive. It’s gotten to the point where every time I'm around her, I feel like I'm playing a part. I try my best to keep things civil, but eventually cracks begin to appear and my real feelings start seeping through. These days, living with my wife is like cohabitating with a stranger, while trying to raise a kid.
I glance in the mirror, my foul mood softening at the sight of my little girl. At only two years old, Kelsie is the only reason I keep trying to hold this broken union together. But it seems in spite of my efforts, the rubber band stretches a little bit further each day, inching us closer and closer to breaking point.
Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
There are all kinds of studies about the negative effects of growing up in a single-parent household, but what if staying together with open contempt just makes things worse for her? How can it be healthier for Kelsie to grow up with parents who obviously hate each other? Because that is what our relationship has become, one full of hate and resentment.
“You with me?”
Marissa’s harsh voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I get out of the car. She has her eyes set in a glare on me and her hand wrapped around Kelsie's chubby little wrist so tight, it’s as though she’s afraid she's going to disappear at any second. She's always been kind of paranoid about that.
“Where else would I be?” I can't help but drone.
She arches a brow and presses her lips together into a tight purse, showing me that she’s not impressed with my tone. But then again, when is she ever impressed with anything when it comes to me?
“Where indeed,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
I just want this evening to be over with. I'm even more on edge than usual, because we're heading to dinner with her parentsandher younger sister, Mandy. Honestly, I'd rather get bitten by a cobra than deal with any of them alone, so all three of them together is a fucking living nightmare. Marissa and her sister are definitely the product of their upbringing, which says a lot about Mum and Dad. Since the day their daughter decided to switch her law major to social services and then marry a teacher, I’ve been enemy number one and no amount of time is going to change that. I’ve never been good enough for them, so I'm not exactly looking forward to another evening of being not so silently judged by the three most important people in my wife’s life—three people who are undoubtedly more important to her than me. There was a time when I was so in love with my wife, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. We are from different worlds, hers full of status and money, mine full of broken dreams and promises. Her family is everything to her, whereas my only family is her and our daughter. I was a fool to think our differences wouldn’t come between us, just like I was a fool to think her family would ever accept me for who I am.
I look up at the dark sky, a shiver racing through me. As expected for a mid-August Tuesday night in Melbourne, it's cold and raining, so claiming a parking spot so close to the restaurant is a welcome reprieve. Marissa pushes the restaurant door open, her other hand still clenching hold of Kelsie.
There was a time where I would open every door for my wife like a proper gentleman, but now I just find myself wishing it would smack her in her perfectly made-up face. No such luck today, though.
I follow behind, the warmth of the inside of the restaurant hitting me immediately, almost coaxing me inside, but as I go to step through the door, someone calls out my name.
“Mr. Reed?”
Vaguely recognizing the soft, feminine tone, I stop and let the door close, leaving me still standing outside. Marissa pauses at the sound of my name and turns around, gazing at me through the door. She follows me back outside when she sees the source of my attention. It’s Chloe, a new student in my class. She walks over to us, her arms wrapped around her chest, her wet, dark hair flat and plastered against her pale, flawless skin. The short school skirt she’s wearing is barely long enough to cover her creamy white thighs. She shivers, visibly freezing, her white uniform top soaked through, showing the outline of her bra. I force myself not to focus on things IknowI shouldn’t be noticing and keep my eyes on hers. My wife wraps a possessive arm around me. I glance at Marissa, watching as her tight lips press into a frown. She glares back at me, eyebrows raised and her eyes full of accusation.
“Relax,” I mutter, low enough so Chloe can’t hear. “She's a new student in my class. She just started today.”
Marissa clearly doesn't like that answer, but she says nothing.
“What are you doing out in this weather?” I ask Chloe.
“I was supposed to get a ride from my aunt, but she got called into work. Then, my Uber was a no-show, so…” She bites her lower lip and shrugs with one shoulder, giving me a sheepish smile, her eyes downcast.
“Christ,” Marissa says, her voice softening in sympathy that she would never show me. She looks at me. “For God's sake, Sam, the girl is freezing. Take her home.”
I nod, because it's better than sitting around waiting for Marissa's parents to show up. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and my car will break down on the way back, forcing me to miss dinner altogether.
“Fine,” I say, then smile at Chloe. “Come on, let's go.”
Chloe's smile widens, her eyes shining as she ducks her head and falls into step next to me. The sweet, floral scent of her shampoo wafts over me as I lead her over to my car. I click the button and unlock her door, well aware that Marissa’s gaze is burning holes through us. Chloe climbs into the car, and I shut the door, then walk around to my side, giving my wife a look as I get in. Chloe visibly shivers again, so I reach over and turn the heat up high.