Even though he treated me with growing indifference, I still desperately believed that I could save our crumbling marriage if I just tried hard enough.
That was the only reason I had booked a week on a private island in the Caribbean for our fifth anniversary, securing a villa complete with a personal chef, a full staff, and an exclusive beach for the price of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I did it because Caleb had spent months telling me that I was cold and that my company had turned me into a woman who no longer had a home in her heart.
He told me he needed a wife who was more present and traditional, and I was foolish enough to want to believe that he actually missed me.
The night before the trip, I handed him the itinerary inside a heavy black envelope embossed with gold lettering.
“This trip is just for the two of us, Caleb, with no meetings, no business calls, and absolutely no outside distractions,” I told him softly.
Caleb barely looked up from his smartphone as he took the envelope with a dismissive grunt.