1. Steph

CHAPTER 1

Steph

FOUR YEARS LATER

I stared at our wedding photo, willing it to divulge my husband’s secrets to me. Did he really love me that day or was our marriage one of convenience? If so, it would have been a convenience for him alone, since no one ever filled me in on the plan.

We appeared to be happy and in love in the photo. His smile was just as bright as my own. Our arms wrapped around one another just moments before our lips met as we shared that first kiss as a married couple. I chose that particular photo to frame because of the promise it held. The vows were still fresh, the deal not yet sealed, but you could see the hope of a wonderful future staring back at each of those two people from the other’s eyes.

That’s what I’d always seen when I stared at the picture.

Now, I searched it for any detail that might prove my initial assessment was complete bullshit. My brother claimed the signs were always there. He thinks I was just too lust-drunk to notice the cold detachment my man offered me or the way Ollie used to leave me at my doorstep, like he was happy to relinquish the burden back when we dated. I thought it was just him being reserved. He was a single father and successful businessman. Ollie was five years older than me, but the gap in our experience levels when we first started dating felt more infinite.

He was older, wiser, more experienced, and already a single dad. I was the fresh-faced girl about to graduate with a degree in early childhood education. In retrospect, our first date hadn’t really gone that well. It honestly felt more like a job interview right up until I told him what my degree was and that I would graduate in just a few weeks.

That was the tipping point in our first date where his demeanor changed from cursory curiosity to one of interest. At first, Ollie explained that he was concerned for his son who was home sick. Later, during our second date, he explained he had dated before but so many women were just after him for his money that he was honestly a little gun shy. It was supposedly my raw enthusiasm as I talked about working with young children that made him change his mind about me.

It wasn’t like I would get some big payout if I had been a gold digger in disguise. Before we married, I’d been made to sign a prenup stating that I would basically get nothing if we divorced before the fifteenth year of marriage. It hadn’t been lost on my brother that Ollie’s son, Den would be an adult and off to college or starting a career by the time the fifteen year mark rolled around.

I had been in love by then and wouldn’t hear of any duplicity on Ollie’s part. Now, I wondered. The cracks in our foundation had always been there and my naivety had blinded me to them

“Momma Steph?” Den, Ollie’s now eight-year-old son, called out to me. He’d been in my life, practically attached at my hip, since I started dating his dad four years ago. Ollie and I had been married for a little over three years, but he had moved me in with them just four months after we started dating. As a result, Denmark had gotten used to calling me Momma Steph. I didn’t mind, and his biological mother had never come around to make a stink about it. Truthfully, if it wasn’t for his father’s instance on the “Steph” part of that title, Den would have simply called me Momma for the past couple years.

He often told people that I was his mother, especially at school. The only time that fact was ever refuted was when Ollie was around to correct it. He made it clear that I was a step parent only, and even if that was the truth, it was still hurtful how quick he was to correct anyone who assumed different. It wasn’t like the woman who abandoned her son when he was a year old should hold the precious title of mother. In my book, no woman who would abandon their child for their own selfish reasons was deserving of that title.

Ollie wouldn’t hear of it, though. So, whenever he was around, I was Momma Steph. For a while, I allowed Den to just call me Mom or Momma when no one was around to hear him. It only took one slip up on Den’s part for his father to fix that behavior.

In a way, I understood. He didn’t want to confuse his son, in case the woman who birthed him ever showed up again. Ollie seemed to hold out hope that it would happen one day, and who was I to deny him the hope that Den would one day be able to have a healthy, happy relationship with his mother?

“What’s going on Denny-boy?”

He rolled his eyes, as he usually did when I called him that, but he still wasn’t able to hold back the grin that sprouted on his face when he heard it.

“I’m getting hungry, do we have to keep waiting for Dad? What if he doesn’t come again?”

“No, baby. I’ll fix you something.” I turned and moved to the kitchen to go make Den a plate. I swore I’d only give Ollie an hour today, and I meant it. Next time, it would be thirty minutes grace. Then, we would simply stop waiting for him to show up for dinner with us.

“Why hasn’t dad been home?”

I wish I knew the answer to that question. The only reason I hadn’t panicked and reached out to the police was because his assistant informed me he was simply bogged down in meetings and would get in touch as soon as it was possible. I didn’t believe that for a minute. There were no meetings that lasted a solid 72-hours, which was what we were going on at that point. Not to mention, he obviously had time to speak to his assistant, just not his wife.

“He’s been very busy at work, honey.”

“Dad’s never too busy for me.” Den’s insistence of that fact was true enough. Normally, Ollie would at least call and say good night to his son on the rare occasions when he had to go on an out-of-town trip. Though, those rare occasions had turned into more of an all-the-time thing these past few months.

“I think maybe his work is extra hard this time, Denny-Boy. You know your father loves you, no matter what.”

“I know. I miss him, though,” he pouted. It broke my heart to see that lip poke out and little tears form in his eyes. He was at an age where he was trying to be ‘a man’ and not show emotion too much. I rolled my eyes at the thought, but it made his father proud of him.

“Eat up and then I’ll let you play an hour of Minecraft.”

“A whole hour?” Den’s eyes grew comically wide. Ollie wasn’t a fan of the game and didn’t like for his son to play it too much, as he deemed it was a waste. Once in a while, I had to remind the man that his son was still a child and needed creative play time, not just organized sports, as an outlet.

“I promise.”

“What if Dad comes home?”

“I’ll handle him,” I offered with a wink that made the little boy smile as he tucked into his soup and sandwich.

I had planned to make a full meal again tonight, but when I didn’t hear from my husband, everything remained in limbo. Dinner. My marriage. Our family and the future I once thought we would have together. It was all just sitting on the sidelines waiting for him to notice that there wasn’t much left to salvage.