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THE PINOT NOIR ROLLED over her tongue like silk. The two glasses she consumed had yet to soothe her nerves. Sienna sat on the couch, waiting for Brent to get home from his late night at the office.
She took another sip of wine, unaware of the drop that slid down the side of her glass until it sunk into her silk nightie.
“Crap,” she muttered.
She wiped the purplish stain with her hand, but only managed to rub the wine in further, the violet smudge incongruous with the pale green ensemble—unacceptable.
Standing, Sienna went to the bedroom to change. The spot of wine would be noticed by Brent, and she didn’t need him commenting on her clumsiness, along with her inability to keep something as simple as lingerie clean. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but tonight she had more important things she wanted to talk about and didn’t want to go through the hassle of his scrutiny.
He liked her dressed impeccably in bed, something she had gotten used to. When they first got married, he requested she abandon her cotton pajama’s, in exchange for the more luxurious evening wardrobe he purchased, comprised of silk, lace, chiffon, and some further risqué items she seldom wore. At first, she protested, but in the end, she gave up comfort and warmth for the pleasure of her husband; this little sacrifice was the least she could do. And could she really complain? Most women would love their husband to bestow them with such luxuries. At least he still cared.
Moving to her dresser, she removed a pale blue teddy and matching robe from the top drawer. Slipping the soiled nightie off, she replaced it with the blue silk and returned to the living room, once again presentable. She prepared to sit when a movement to her left caught her eye. With a jolt, she sucked in a breath at sight of the dark figure looming in the doorway.
“Brent,” she breathed.
Her husband moved to the coffee table and poured himself a glass of wine.
The beat of butterfly wings in her chest subsided, as she willed her pulse to slow. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You look lovely,” he said, taking in her long legs and the thick locks of her professionally colored hair spilling over her shoulders.
If she had learned one thing over the course of her marriage, it was that Brent Wallace was a man who demanded order in his life, on the job, and at home. Most of his colleagues were intimidated by him, and it wasn’t hard to see why. His dark, brooding eyes and jet-black hair gave him an ever-present intensity. He accepted nothing less than perfection.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Sitting, she patted the seat beside her. “I need to talk to you about something. I’m really worried.”
He sighed. “If whatever you must say is about having a baby, we can keep trying, but we’ve been through this a million times. Even the last round of fertility drugs didn’t help. You need to put this thing past you. Face it, babe, you’re just not equipped to have kids.”
His words stung, but the flip attitude didn’t surprise her. She had long ago gotten over the bruising of his, often careless, words and his lack of sensitivity. Some men just weren’t equipped to talk about their feelings or empathize—Brent was one of them.
Clearing her throat, she shook her head, noticing he had yet to sit. “No. I’m not worried about my fertility issues right now. It’s Lexie.” She wrung her hands in her lap.
He removed his suit jacket and laid it next to her with a bored expression. “What about her?”
“She’s not acting like herself. We haven’t had our girl’s night out in almost two months. She doesn’t return my calls, and when I went to her apartment yesterday, she looked awful. She hardly talked to me and seemed, I don’t know...sort of zoned out. And come to think of it, the few times I saw her before she started avoiding me, she acted really strange.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said, with a dismissive wave of the hand.
Leaning toward her, he brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her cheek, the soft line of her jaw, moving his way down to her neck.
Sienna stiffened, trying to keep her expression from conveying her impatience. She wanted to discuss Lex with Brent, not just because he was her husband, but because he was one of the only other people Sienna could talk to that knew Lexie almost as well as she did. Over the ten years Sienna had known her, they became extremely close, at times inseparable, which is how Brent knew her so well. They ritually went out on Friday nights, but often enjoyed a quick break from work as well, with a bite to eat at a quaint bistro, or one of the cities eclectic sandwich shops throughout the week. Many times, Brent joined them for lunch.
“She left her job,” Sienna said as if that one statement explained everything. “She told me she hasn’t been at work for over two months. Something happened, Brent.”
His eyes sharpened on her face. “Did she say that?”
“No, but she would never stand me up on a Friday, let alone miss over two months of hanging out without so much as an explanation. We haven’t had lunch together in I don’t know how long...”
Brent’s expression relaxed, and he smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming in the soft light. “Is that what all this is about? A bruised ego? Are you just upset because she hasn’t called you?” He slid a finger down her arm, laughing.
Irritation crawled up her spine. Why was he making light of this? This was Lexie, their friend. Was he even listening to what she said? The gut feeling that told her something was wrong couldn’t have been stronger. Just the thought sent a shiver through her body, tightening her chest until it felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Over the years, Lexie had saved her. At times when her infertility made her feel like giving up on life, on her marriage, she lifted her up. She helped her recognize the good, even in the worst of times and always managed to resurrect her spirits, no matter how much effort and time it took. Brent knew that, knew how vital Lexie was in her life.
Lexie needed her now—maybe both of them—and she would not abandon her, no matter how much Brent downplayed the situation.
“How can you make light of this?” Sienna asked him evenly. She tried to maintain her composure, but anger seeped into her voice. “You’re her friend, too. You’ve spent a lot of time around her over the years. You must recognize that something’s up. Don’t you care?”
Brent’s smile faded, his brow tightening. “I’m sorry you find my lack of concern irritating, but, frankly, I’m not surprised. Lexie always struck me as a loose cannon. She’s probably gotten herself into some sort of a mess, and now she’s trying to scrape her way out of it.”
Sienna stood, the silk of her robe billowing behind her with the sharp movement. She looked down at Brent, her face flushing with emotion, hands curling into fists at her side. “Lexie is not a loose cannon. And what kind of a mess, pray tell, do you think she’s in?”
Brent shrugged, running a hand over his ink-black hair, looking every bit the arrogant, and sometimes ruthless, businessman he was known to be. “Who knows...drugs, a problem at work? Maybe she’s having a problem with a man. Obviously, whatever’s going on, she doesn’t want to tell you about it, so it’s probably something she did that she has reason to be ashamed of. You should give her space and leave her alone.”
“How can you say something so judgmental? Especially about someone we care about? Are you really that righteous?” Sienna’s balled fists trembled. Never before had she wanted to slap him, but her friendship with Lexie meant everything to her, and his blatant disregard for her feelings combined with the overwhelming fear for her friend, had her palms itching to smack him.
Luckily, better instincts prevailed. Nothing good would come of hitting such a prideful man. Instead, she ground her teeth and turned away from him, heading to her bedroom. Wrenching open a dresser drawer, she retrieved an old t-shirt and sweats she used for housework. In one quick movement, her teddy and robe pooled on the floor by her feet like a spray of sea foam, replaced with the ratty, stained clothes.
When she reached the doorway, Brent stood before her, smiling. His amused expression, and the way he sipped his wine with ease, only served to irritate her further. But the second he took in her sloppy clothes, he grimaced.
Tears sprung to her eyes, blurring her vision, but not enough to hide his look of disgust. “She’s my friend, and I’m going to find out what happened to her. I’ll be there for her no matter what.”
His flashed menacingly in the dim light, his gaze turning hard as steel. “If you know what’s best, you’ll leave it alone.”
The tone of his voice and subtle threat behind his words was not lost on Sienna. She pondered this, the absurdity of it, as he downed his wine in one smooth motion.
“Time for bed,” he said, creeping toward her. He loosened the tie around his neck as he walked until it hung limply around his neck like a snake.
And when he reached out and touched her, Sienna shuddered.