Caitlin

Newport Beach, California

Anticipation filled me as I smoothed my hands down the front of the white halter cocktail dress that I’d searched nearly a week to find. When choosing my attire tonight, I’d made sure to pick out something that’d match the occasion. After all, today marked twenty years of marriage to my husband, Ethan. To celebrate our special night, I’d decided to cook dinner for the two of us instead of frequenting one of the area restaurants as we usually did.

Everything had been planned out in painstaking detail. Thinking about my other plans, I turned my gaze toward the black box sitting on the bedside table. It contained a lacy set of lingerie in white, which was his favorite color. Since purchasing it, I couldn’t help imagining myself slipping into it before we made love. It would be the perfect way to end the night.

Since I was expecting him home any time, I walked back into the bathroom and fussed with my hair for just a few more seconds. After, I spritzed on some of the perfume he loved so much, then exited our bedroom. I slowly descended the first of two staircases, sliding my hand down the dark iron to steady myself so I wouldn’t fall in my tall stilettos. The pair of Jimmy Choos had also been a splurge purchase I’d made when I’d picked up this dress on a recent trip to Los Angeles. I’d been with our twin girls, and we’d had a ball that afternoon before they’d returned to their dorm at the University of Southern California.

I had gone north for more than just shopping, and even now I couldn’t even think about my daughters without some bittersweetness setting in. I thought I’d been ready to be an empty nester, but I now knew I wasn’t, because their absence from our lives had been hitting me a lot harder than it had Ethan. On occasion, he would bring up their names, but he wouldn’t have the same emptiness in his eyes that I did. And it wasn’t even just our daughters I’d been missing.

“When Cora and Lora are out of the house, the next phase of our lives can begin,” he’d told me months ago when they’d first left for school, but I’d seen no real change from him where we were concerned. Everything was the same as it’d been, even before they’d left.

I let out a sigh, refusing to dwell on his preoccupation lately. That frame of thinking did little to bring me comfort, and it’d only sour what I hoped would be a great evening alone with him. When on Rodeo Drive with my daughters, I’d also purchased that lingerie with tonight in mind. I’d had to ignore my daughters’ looks of mortification when they’d realized why, and more importantly for whom, I’d bought it.

“I might be old, but I’m not dead,” I’d told them.

Sometimes, I felt like it, though. Well, maybe not dead, because I still had the same desires I’d always had. They hadn’t waned, but I couldn’t say the same about my husband. In fact, it’d been twenty-eight days since he’d last touched me, and even then, it’d been rushed, because he’d had an early morning flight to catch for a work trip.

Those, too, seemed to be more frequent lately. He’d leave for a week or two at a time, and it hadn’t been until I was home alone that the sheer magnitude of those trips had set in. Without our daughters to occupy my attention, his absence was felt even more. Ethan worked for a software developer with locations across the globe, so he often had to travel from one office to another. He’d never stayed gone as much when the girls were younger, but by the time they’d hit their freshman year of high school, things had started to change. I’d hoped it was temporary, but it hadn’t been so far.

I refused to cry over any of it tonight, because I didn’t want to smudge my makeup. I simply stopped in place, then took a deep breath and closed my eyes until the threatening tears evaporated. I descended the rest of the stairs, then moved into the kitchen where I planned for us to eat. It was easier to set up a few candles there, so I’d decided not to set the table in the dining room. After all, we hadn’t used it since the girls were home from school the last time, so there was no need to change that tonight. Besides, the intimacy of sitting side by side at the marble island would be more romantic.

Everything was already cooked, so I only needed to pull it from the warmer when it was time to serve. Leaving it in there a bit longer, I busied myself by retrieving the expensive bottle of champagne I’d brought upstairs from our wine cellar earlier in the day. I placed it into the ice bucket, then retrieved two glasses from the nearby rack.

A lot of thought had gone into tonight’s menu. I planned to start with a radish and avocado salad, which was one of his favorites. I’d made the vinaigrette earlier in the day, and it was to die for. Ethan also loved pomegranates, so it was a no-brainer to try that recipe. The salad would pair perfectly with the homemade fettuccine and truffle-butter pasta. I’d given up meat a little over a year ago, but I knew he hadn’t, so I had grilled a chicken breast for him. Initially, I’d planned to save this particular bottle of champagne for New Year’s Eve, but if our twentieth wedding anniversary didn’t trump something that came around every year, then I didn’t know what would. Lastly, I’d made a fruit tart for dessert, making sure to use the fruits he loved the most.

I’d always had a love of cooking, so over the years I had taken a variety of courses in various locations, learning the local cuisine. Ethan did as well, and once upon a time, we’d taken culinary vacations together to different places throughout Europe. I’d follow them up with courses taught by Michelin-starred chefs in California. While Ethan worked in the technology sector, I’d chosen a much different path. I loved to travel, and between seeing different sights and meeting new people, I’d decided to channel that into a business of my own. A decade earlier, I’d opened Wanderlust Unlimited, and now I helped others explore new places and adventures, experiencing the things I often did when on vacation myself.

Sullen thoughts began creeping back into my head. It’d been a long time since Ethan and I had gone anywhere together. I wouldn’t let that realization damper my spirits, and once I pushed those thoughts away, I focused on what would be a wonderful night for us. After taking a seat on one of the backless barstools, I began to tap my manicured nails a bit impatiently on the counter but stopped the moment I realized what I was doing. It couldn’t be that late yet. I grabbed my phone, just to be sure, then realized it was a lot later than I’d just thought. This morning I’d sent a text message to Ethan, asking him to be home at seven, and it was already pushing eight. My husband wasn’t always the most punctual person, so I tried to keep that in mind.

“Where are you?” I asked aloud when the minutes continued to tick by without any word or sight of him.

The food would certainly be ruined if he didn’t get home soon. The cheerfulness I’d been trying to hang on to was quickly diminishing. Distracting myself, I finally stood and went to check on the food. As I’d feared, the butter sauce had dried up and so had the chicken breast. There was no way I could serve this now. I ran a hand through my perfectly styled hair. The earlier tears threatened to return, but I managed to hold them in. It was a Friday night, so a lot of restaurants in Newport Beach would still be open another few hours. Usually, all I had to do was throw our names around and it would gain us entry to any one of them. Our affluent families were both Orange County natives. My father was a pioneer in the building industry, and this modern craftsman we called home happened to be one of the designs he’d made famous.

Ethan and I both loved this house. The multi-million-dollar mansion sat in the Heights and had five bedrooms with six-and-a-half bathrooms. It also had a wine cellar, home gym and a theater room the girls had used so much over the years. Additionally, there was a man cave for Ethan and his friends, and a home office where I conducted all my business. The exterior was as magnificent as the interior, with an outdoor kitchen on one level and pool with jacuzzi on the other. Both spaces showcased panoramic views of the Pacific Ocean. Lastly, we had a six-car garage, which had been great when the girls were both home and driving. Now, it seemed like overkill for just the two of us. He had his sports car, and I had mine, then we also shared a larger sports utility vehicle. The other three bays were now completely empty, a lot like the rest of this house. If we didn’t love this place so much, I might’ve even considered asking him to downsize. We could’ve even moved out of Orange County and headed somewhere farther north, where we would be able to spend more time with our daughters. I’d recently heard one of the women in my yoga class talking about some listings coming available soon in both Manhattan Beach and Santa Monica.

“There’s nothing wrong with the house we have now, Cait,” I could already hear him say. He’d bring up the fact that we had less than ten years left on our mortgage, then follow it up with a bunch of stuff I’d simply tune out.

I let out another sigh, then glanced back over at the time on my phone. It was now pushing eight-thirty, and if we hoped to get a table at one of the local restaurants, I’d have to call in a reservation in the next half-hour or so. I had no idea when he’d actually get here, though, so trying to go that route would be pointless. There was another option with the weekend here, and I thought briefly about trying to convince him to take an overnight trip somewhere with me. We could drive up to San Francisco, or even fly to Vegas for a night or two.

We used to do spontaneous things like that all the time in the beginning of our marriage. It didn’t hurt that we’d had connections at a lot of those places. Maybe I could lean on one of them tonight. The hopeful expression of mine fell more the more I considered those options. I didn’t want to book anything, whether dinner for two at Rossetti’s or an overnighter to Sin City, without clearing it with Ethan first. I’m sure he wouldn’t care either way, but it was the principle of the matter.

He has to have gotten caught in traffic. There was nothing else that would explain why he wasn’t home yet. I began to pace back and forth between the living room and kitchen, trying my best to not overreact. I’d done that once before, and I’d sworn to never distrust him like that again. It’d been about a year earlier when a few in my book club had explanations as to why he had become so distant. It didn’t take long for the majority of them to convince me that he’d been having an affair. Besides being disgusted at the very idea, I’d had no other explanation for why he was never home.

“He’s gone all the time, then comes home late and has no viable explanation. And, you said he hadn’t even noticed the butterfly tattoo you’d gotten a few weeks ago on your ankle,” one had said.

“Men won’t go without sex, so if he’s not having it with you, then he’s having it with someone else,” commented another.

I hadn’t wanted to believe them or even think about what they’d said, because it would crack the fragile trust between Ethan and me. It all became too much to ignore, because he’d been acting a lot differently than he used to. Back in the day, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We met when we’d been merely teenagers and started to date our senior year of high school. After graduation, we’d both enrolled at the Irvine campus of the University of California and had been inseparable ever since.

I shook my head as I remembered those days. So madly in love with him, I knew he’d felt the same way about me. We’d just started our sophomore year of college when I’d found out that I was pregnant. The news had been shocking enough, so imagine our surprise when the doctor had told us we were having twins. It was far more than we could’ve ever imagined, and I knew I was living the American dream.

We’d planned our wedding, and wanting to cast positive light on my family’s name, the event was the highlight of the society season. I was in no real hurry to rush things, which worked out perfectly, because a year later, our beautiful daughters were able to be part of our special day. It was the most lavish wedding I’ve ever been to, and that was saying something since I’d been attending events like this since I had been just a young girl. My own had surpassed them all, but that day felt like an eternity ago. I’d once felt like a princess, but now, two decades from that day, all the magic seemed to be gone. I was now more like Cinderella, constantly checking her cell phone. It wasn’t because I thought I’d turn into someone else at midnight but that I truly feared my husband didn’t love me anymore. It was crazy, but no matter how much I tried telling myself the last few months had been a transitioning phase, I didn’t know any longer. We’d never had an entire house to ourselves for any real period of time, and work was demanding for us both. A realization struck me in that moment. No matter the reason, they were all excuses.

This time, I ignored the tears and let them fall as I opened the bottle of champagne. I filled half of the glass, then swirled it in front of me. “Happy fucking anniversary to me,” I toasted with no one before swallowing down the alcohol in a few swigs.

The warnings and advice given by those same women viciously resurfaced, their words echoing in my head. At that time, I hadn’t believed it, but I’d still hired a private investigator. The PI had followed Ethan for weeks, but nothing suspicious was ever found. I’d then admonished myself for not trusting my husband, promptly firing the man afterward. The worst part was that I didn’t have to worry about my husband having an affair with another woman. He was married to his career, and there was little room for anything else. Even his own wife fell second or third to that.

I picked up the champagne and brought it with me to the couch. After kicking off my heels, I flopped down. Tonight had turned into a disaster, and the worst part was that I wasn’t even surprised. Hurt, yes, but shocked, no. There was only one thing that would salvage this night and that was alcohol, so I decided to drink straight from the bottle. I put my feet up on the cushions then continued to stare at my cell phone. Despite his workaholic tendencies, it wasn’t like Ethan to completely stand me up or blow me off. He was distracted, to put it mildly, but rude and insensitive? Not so much. After drinking another few swallows, panic started to set in, and I wondered if something had actually happened to him. Knowing it was possible with the California drivers, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed his number.

It went straight to voicemail without even ringing, which only worried me more. Since it didn’t settle my nerves, I began to call all the area hospitals between our house and his office. There were no patients with his name at any of them. I even felt foolish as I called a few of the police stations on that route as well. At one of the precincts, the officer I spoke to had advised me that I could file a missing person’s report once he was gone for a set number of hours. I hung up feeling more deflated. Ethan wasn’t missing. He just didn’t want to be found.

Anger filled me, replacing my earlier worry. Getting up, I went into the kitchen and threw away everything I’d made for dinner. Now, there would be nothing to eat, even if he did come home—not that it looked even a bit presentable, anyway. Granted, I could’ve salvaged the dessert tarts and salad, but even those made me want to cry. It all ended up in the garbage, and after exchanging the champagne for a bottle of vodka, I went to sit out by the pool.