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PROLOGUE
MARCO
FIVE YEARS AGO….
I starearound the vacant apartment in disbelief.
She took everything except the fake flowers I fucking hate and the electrical appliances.
I charge into the bedroom we shared, knowing in my heart she isn’t here.
A quick glance at her side of the walk-in closet confirms it’s true.
She’s gone.
The drawers are open, and some hangers remain. Everything else is empty.
I look for evidence of her slashing any of my suits, but they appear unharmed.
All that lingers is her fucking perfume, like a punishing reminder of the woman who used to live here.
I pull my phone out and hit dial.
It goes straight to message. “Lisa,” I say. “Call me when you get this. We need to talk.”
I know things have been strained with us lately, but everything has changed.
We just found out Lisa’s pregnant; not something either of us planned on, but I couldn’t be happier.
We’ve had a rough year, but I know I want to make this work. I’ve always wanted to be a father and I wanted to make tonight special.
I can’t fucking believe she left me.
Admittedly, we both work way too much, and spending time together has become non-existent. We fought last night, and it’s the same argument; she gets mad when I’m not around. She thinks I’m at the club chasing other women when that isn’t the case.
I’ve never strayed in our relationship; I’ve never cheated on any women I’ve been romantic with. It’s not my style.
I’ve never resented the fact that she has a career. In fact, I admire her brilliance, but I somehow thought the news of the baby would bring us closer together.
Tonight, I made an effort. I thought we could talk, maybe work out what we’re going to do and how to manage things when the baby comes. I’m willing to be a hands-on father.
I throw the dozen red roses down on the bed as I run a hand through my hair. This can’t be happening.
I grab my phone and dial again and this time I don’t leave a message.
I just need to talk to her. I know how she gets…then again, she’s never cleared her entire contents from our bedroom before. Everything is gone except the bedroom furniture.
I walk over to the windows and look down to the street below, trying to make sense of it.
I’m so numb I can’t even get myself a scotch to numb the pain.
It’s five days before I fucking hear from her.
I’m in my office when my phone buzzes. In truth, I’ve been numb this entire time and can barely work at all. I look like shit and feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. It’s like I’m in a trance, and nobody but her can wake me from it.
I’ve tried her parents’ place, then her sisters. If they know where she is, then they aren’t telling me.
I needed to know she was okay, that the baby was okay…
