Liam is going to kill me.
The last thing Charlee wanted to do was miss their date, but she was already three hours late. Not just any date. They were celebrating their three-month anniversary.
She should’ve been home with her man. Instead, she was still at the office.
“Oh good. You’re still here,” Bradley said as he strolled in carrying a manila folder.
The whole day had been one disaster after another. The worst being that there had been an accident at a job site in Detroit and one of their cranes was at the center of the investigation. This was the first time that she could remember, that a crane had snapped at the boom point. In this case, it had damaged not only the building the client’s company was working on, but thousands of dollars’ worth of material had been destroyed.
OSHA, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, was investigating the incident, but Charlee also wanted her own investigation done. She had already contacted their lawyer and a private investigator.
“We need to go over—”
“Bradley, I have to get home. Whatever else you need to discuss with me will have to wait until Monday.”
Charlee scooped up her cell phone from the desk and slid it into the side pocket of her oversized Chanel bag. The files that she still hadn’t had a chance to review also went into the bag.
“Charlee, this is important. It’ll only take a minute.”
“I’m leaving.”
She had let him impose on her time too often over the last few weeks. There’d been presentations, new contracts, and a new employment program that they’d implemented.
But not tonight. Tonight, she had to hurry home to her husband with hopes that he hadn’t finally given up on her.
For over the past month, she’d been getting home later and later. At first, Liam hadn’t complained. He often brought her dinner. Stopped by during lunch, insisting that she take a break. There had even been one late night that he brought his work to her office and stayed there with her, not wanting her to drive home alone so late at night.
Now that was love.
How’d she pay him back? She started working even longer hours.
“This can’t continue,” she said, more to herself, but didn’t care that Bradley heard her. “This is the last week that I’ll be staying in the office this late.”
“Okay, but right now, we have to discuss the marketing plan for the new tractors we’re rolling out in a few months. I know you wanted to let Diane take lead on that project, but I don’t think she can handle the work.”
Charlee stood and double checked the top of her desk, making sure she had everything she needed to work from home during the weekend.
She looked at her co-worker. “Whatever you want to discuss, including Diane’s project, will have to wait until Monday. I’m out of here.”
“Come on, Charlee. Whatever you’re rushing off to can wait, but this,” he held up the manila folder, “can’t.”
“Let’s go. I need to lock up my office. If you want, you can fill me in on the way to the parking garage. That’s all the time I can give you.”
He huffed out a breath and followed her into the hallway, waiting for her to lock the door.
“Clearly, your priorities are out of whack,” he grumbled, keeping up with her as she hurried to the elevator. “How do you expect to be CEO when the business doesn’t come first? You’re going to throw everything you’ve worked for away for a man?”
Charlee rounded on him, getting in his face. “I’m going to say this one time. So you’d better listen good. My personal life is none of your business, but for the record, Liam is not just a man. He’s my husband, and I’d give up everything for him.”
“Charlee, I didn’t mean to—"
“And when I become CEO, you’d better make sure you can do your job. Coming to me for everything or to the person who will fill my current role is not gonna fly. Some of these issues you claim are super important, you should be able to take care of. So, whatever is in that file folder you’re holding, handle it. I’ll see you Monday morning.”
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into her garage, cringing at the fact that it was almost ten o’clock. Way past the time they were supposed to have a nice, romantic dinner.
“I have to do better,” she grumbled, grabbing her things out of the car.
Liam had called her twice. Once earlier just to hear her voice, and again around five to confirm that she’d be home by six-thirty. She’d had every intention of getting home early. When she texted him a couple of hours ago, explaining that she’d be a little late, he’d been okay with it. Telling her that he was looking forward to spending the evening with her. But when she texted him an hour ago, she hadn’t heard back.
No doubt he was pissed. At some point, he was going to quit trying to make their marriage work. She had recently postponed their wedding, claiming she didn’t have time. Liam was understanding but did express concern that the wedding would never happen if she couldn’t make time to help with the planning.
Charlee huffed out a breath, frustrated with herself. She walked into the house, leaving her bag and jacket in the mudroom. When she entered the kitchen and dining room area, the lights were dimmed. Candles, that looked as if they’d been burning a while, graced every available flat surface. A beautiful bouquet of pink roses sat in the center of the dining room table that was set for two.
Guilt pierced her chest. How could she have messed this night up, especially knowing how much they both were looking forward to it? Some of the work she’d done earlier, could’ve been passed on to someone else. Yet, she had insisted on doing it herself. Now, she’d have to pay the cost for not delegating.
A jazz melody flowed through the surround sound. Seeing that Liam listened to music by ThaSaint practically every night, Charlee recognized the tune immediately. The Way I Feel For You played softly, making her feel even worse about being late.
God, he really is going to kill me.
“Liam?” she called out, and pulled up short when she reached the living room.
He was sitting on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table and a glass with dark liquid in his hand. He looked the epitome of calm, but she knew better. Only those who knew the brooding man would notice his simmering anger.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, his words surprisingly slurred.
“At work.” She slowly approached him, knowing a simple sorry wouldn’t make up for ruining their evening. “I miss calculated how long it would take me to finish up today, and then Bradley came to—”
“Don’t mention that asshole’s name in my house,” he snarled.
Charlee clamped her lips shut. He didn’t like Bradley much, especially when her co-worker called the house on Sunday mornings to discuss work. Tonight, though, this was all on her. She was the one who had screwed up. Her husband had every right to be upset. He had been nothing but patient for months, planning their time together around her crazy work schedule. All he had asked was for her to commit to a date night during the week, and that they spend some time together on the weekend. Yet, she struggled to do either. It wasn’t because she couldn’t. Her priorities were out of whack just as Bradley accused, but not the way he meant.
Something had to change. She had to start delegating more or risk losing everything that was important to her. Just the thought sent panic racing through her body. She couldn’t lose Liam. She couldn’t let the man she absolutely adored walk out of her life again.
Not this time. Not ever.
Liam tossed back the rest of his drink. Then slammed the glass on the side table.
Oh, no. This is not good, Charlee thought when she noticed the half-empty bottle of bourbon.
Her husband was a casual drinker. A beer once or twice a week, but rarely did he indulge in hard liquor unless he was playing poker or watching a game with some of his cousins. Apparently, he also drank when he was pissed.
Charlee’s pulse thumped loudly in her ears as she tried to think of some way of salvaging the evening.
“Liam, if you haven’t eaten already, we can still—”
“I—I’m not do—doing this anymore.” His voice was a low rumble, the agony behind his words cut through Charlee like a shard of glass.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been messing up our plans lately, but I promise, going forward—”
“No. I’ve heard it t-too many ti—times.” He stood on wobbly legs, tilting to his left and Charlee rushed to him.
“Let me help you.”
He jerked away, stumbling into a side table, but righting himself. “Don’t touch me. Ge-get your bags.” He drunkenly lifted his arm and pointed to a couple of pieces of her luggage that were near the front door. “And ge—get out of my hou—house.”
When he headed toward the hallway that led to their bedroom, panic crawled down Charlee’s spine. Then within seconds it was replaced with annoyance.
“I get that you’re mad, but I’m not leaving!” she shouted. “This is my house, too, and I’m not going anywhere! Let’s just talk about this.”
“I’m done tal—talking.” He kept walking until he disappeared down the hall.
Charlee’s chest tightened. She messed up again, and this time she didn’t know how to fix it.
What she did know was that if she left that house, there would be no coming back. He wouldn’t give her a third chance.
No way am I leaving.
She blew out the candles that were still lit in the dining and living rooms and put away the food. Once that was done, she shut off the music.
Kicking off her shoes and curling up on the sofa, she made herself comfortable.
It’s going to be a long night.
*
The next morning, Liam slowly lifted his heavy eyelids, blinking several times to push through the dense fog of sleep. Why did it feel as if there was drilling going on in his head? Without getting up, he glanced around. A sliver of light from above the closed curtains, cast just enough illumination to the otherwise dark bedroom, letting him know that it was a new day.
What a night. Bits and pieces of the night before floated through his mind.
No more hard liquor.
While waiting for his wife to get home, he had gone through all types of emotions. Excitement. Frustration. Disappointment. Anger. He couldn’t remember if they were in that exact order, but he was pretty sure those feelings had been on rotation inside of him. At least until he started drinking. After the third or fourth glass of bourbon, he just didn’t give a damn.
Now he felt like crap. Since his mind was awake and he was thinking hard, the excruciating pounding inside of his head was getting worse. His mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton balls, and his body throbbed. More than all of that, his heart ached at how he had treated Charlee.
Get out of my house.
It didn’t matter how angry he’d been, he couldn’t believe he had said those words to his wife. Unfortunately, mostly everything after that was a blur. He didn’t even remember getting into bed. What he did remember was how tired he was of trying to make their marriage work. Tired of being the only one to put forth an effort.
Something had to change because divorce wasn’t an option. He loved her too much to live the rest of his life without her.
A wave of concern pulsed through his body. “I gotta go find my wife.”
He wasn’t sure where she would’ve gone that time of night, especially since they had rented out her condo. She wouldn’t have gone to her father’s house or Jerry and Rayne’s place. They had vowed that no matter what, they would always keep others out of their marriage. That meant if they had problems, they would work together to figure them out, not pull others into their issues.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Where would she have gone? Wherever she was, he’d find her. First, he had to do something about his pounding headache and the awful taste in his mouth. Glancing down, he realized he hadn’t even gotten undressed.
He lifted his head a few inches off the pillow, but the hammering inside of it forced him to lay back down.
Definitely. No more hard liquor.
He glanced at the clock. Ten o’clock. Liam couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept that late.
He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed and froze. Laying on a makeshift pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor next to the bed was his wife. The covers had been kicked off and she was curled into a fetal position. Her wild curls hid part of her face as her head rested at an odd angle on the pillow. Dressed in one of his T-shirts, the cotton had ridden up to her waist, revealing tiny pink panties.
Liam hadn’t heard her before, but now her soft snores reached his ears.
Relief flooded his body at the sight of her, but guilt gnawed on his nerves. He was glad she hadn’t left, but he hated seeing her laying on the floor. Why hadn’t she just gotten into the bed? It couldn’t have been that she was afraid he’d kick her out of it. He hadn’t even heard her enter the room. She even could’ve slept in the guest room.
Careful not to step on her, he clambered out of bed. An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness descended on him when he lifted her off the floor. Mad or not, going forward he had to take care of her. They couldn’t have a repeat of the night before.
He laid her on the bed and stared down at her. A suffocating sensation clawed up his chest and tightened inside his throat. Had she done what he asked, he could’ve lost her for good. That thought left a hollowness within him. He didn’t even want to imagine a life without her again.
We’re going to figure this out, he thought and headed to the bathroom. He took a couple of ibuprofens, showered, and climbed back into bed; glad it was Saturday. He didn’t know if Charlee had to be at work, but he had no intention of waking her.
Liam pulled her against the front of his body. Having her right where she belonged, his eyes drifted closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.