Chapter 31 THIRTY-ONE
Lennox didn't sleep. Just laid in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the fight over and over until the words lost meaning and became just noise in her head. Around six AM she gave up, took another shower, and got dressed for the day.
She could hear movement in the kitchen when she opened her door. Coffee brewing. The quiet clatter of dishes.
Great.
She considered staying in her room until he left for work, but that felt cowardly. This was her home too, contractually speaking. She had every right to coffee in the kitchen.
Callum was standing by the espresso machine when she walked in, already dressed in a charcoal suit, tie perfectly knotted. He looked like hell though. Dark circles under his eyes, skin pale, mouth set in a tight line.
He looked up when she entered. "Morning."
"Morning." Her voice came out flat.
"Coffee's fresh."
"Thanks."
She poured herself a cup, hyper-aware of the space between them. Maybe four feet. Might as well have been miles.
Maria bustled in from the laundry room, humming something under her breath. She stopped short when she saw them both standing there, rigid and silent, not looking at each other.
"Good morning," she said carefully. "Breakfast?"
"Just coffee for me," Callum said.
"Same," Lennox added.
Maria's eyebrows rose slightly but she didn't comment. Just moved around the kitchen preparing something neither of them had asked for, probably because she knew they needed actual food even if they were too stubborn to admit it.
Callum checked his phone. Lennox stared into her coffee. The silence stretched.
"Sleep well?" he asked, voice aggressively polite.
"Fine. You?"
"Fine."
They were both lying. The evidence was written all over their faces, the exhaustion neither could hide. But acknowledging it would mean acknowledging the fight, and apparently they were going with the pretend-nothing-happened approach instead.
Maria set plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of them. Neither had moved to the table but she gave them a look that said sit down and eat, so they did. On opposite ends of the dining table, because of course.
Lennox picked at her eggs. They were probably good but tasted like cardboard. Everything tasted like cardboard lately.
"Thank you, Maria," Callum said. "This is perfect."
"Yes, thank you," Lennox echoed.
Maria hummed noncommittally and went back to wiping down counters. But Lennox caught her looking at them, her expression somewhere between concerned and knowing. Like she'd seen this before, couples who couldn't figure out how to talk to each other so they just... didn't.
Except they weren't a couple. Not really.
Callum finished his eggs in record time, stood up, grabbed his briefcase. "I have meetings all day. Won't be home for dinner."
"Okay."
"You have the foundation lunch at one."
"I remember."
"Right." He adjusted his cufflinks, that nervous tell he probably didn't know he had. "I'll see you later then."
"Sure."
He left without looking back. The elevator doors closed and the penthouse went quiet except for Maria's humming and the distant sound of traffic forty-two floors below.
"More coffee, Mrs. Westbrook?" Maria asked after a moment.
"Please."
Maria refilled her cup, then stood there, dish towel in hand, studying Lennox with those dark eyes that saw too much.
"You know," she said carefully, "Mr. Callum, he's not good with feelings. His father... well. He taught those boys that emotions were weakness. Made them hard when they should've been allowed to be soft."
Lennox looked up, surprised. Maria rarely talked about Callum beyond practical matters.
"I'm not making excuses," Maria continued. "Just... context. He doesn't know how to say what he feels, so he says nothing instead. Thinks that's safer."
"That's not my problem to fix."
"No. It's not." Maria smiled sadly. "But sometimes people need help learning. Even stubborn, brilliant men who think they have everything figured out."
She squeezed Lennox's shoulder once, then went back to cleaning, leaving Lennox alone with her coffee and thoughts she didn't want to have.
The foundation lunch with Patricia was exactly as excruciating as expected. Three hours of small talk with society wives who had opinions about everything and compassion for nothing. Lennox smiled and nodded and said appropriate things while her brain felt like static.
By the time she escaped, it was almost four and she desperately needed to be somewhere real. Somewhere that didn't require performing or pretending or being someone she wasn't.
The youth center in Brooklyn was exactly that. Bright fluorescent lights, scuffed floors, the sound of kids laughing and arguing and being loud in the way kids were supposed to be. Real and messy and honest.
"Miss Lennox!" Jada, one of the seventh-graders, ran up when Lennox walked in. "Are we doing Python today? Please say we're doing Python."
"We're doing Python." Lennox dropped her bag on the desk in the computer room. "Get your laptops set up."
The next two hours disappeared into code and questions and helping kids debug their programs. This was good. This was normal. Nobody here cared that she was married to a billionaire or that she'd spent last night fighting with said billionaire about things neither of them understood.
She was just Miss Lennox, who taught them how to make computers do cool things.
Around six, Adrian Holt appeared in the doorway. She'd met him at the penthouse a few days ago with Victor, the consultant working on some Westbrook project. He was dressed more casually today, jeans and a button-down, looking friendly and approachable.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," he said. "Victor mentioned you volunteer here and I wanted to stop by."
"Oh. Um. No, we're just finishing up." She looked around at the kids packing up their stuff. "What brings you to Brooklyn?"
"Actually, I heard you could use more equipment." He pulled out his phone, showed her something. "I do tech consulting and we have a bunch of laptops from an office upgrade. Nothing fancy but better than what you've got here. Thought maybe they could be useful."
Lennox blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. I mean, if you want them. No strings. Just figured kids learning to code should have decent equipment."
"That would be amazing. We've been making do with whatever donations we can get, and half these laptops are held together with hope and duct tape."
Adrian laughed. "Well, these are at least mostly functional. I can have them delivered next week if that works?"
"That's incredibly generous. Thank you."
"Happy to help." He glanced around the room, at the kids still lingering. "This is good work you're doing. Not enough people care about this stuff."
"It matters," Lennox said simply. "These kids deserve opportunities."
They talked logistics for a few minutes before Adrian headed out, promising to communicate and arrange the delivery. Lennox felt lighter than she had all day. This was good. A tangible thing she could point to and say it mattered.
She was packing up her own stuff when Mia, a ten-year-old with braids and a gap-toothed smile, appeared at her elbow.
"Miss Lennox?"
"Yeah, sweetie?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Mia twisted her hands together, suddenly shy. "You're married, right? I saw the pictures online. My mom showed me."
Lennox's stomach tightened. "I am."
"Is it like in the movies?" Mia's eyes were wide and hopeful. "Does he look at you like you're the only person in the world? Like in the princess movies?"
Lennox's throat closed up.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. All she could see was Callum's face this morning, exhausted and distant, the careful space he'd maintained between them. The way he'd announced he wouldn't be home for dinner like he was checking a box on a to-do list.
Pull yourself together and play your already agreed part.
"Miss Lennox?" Mia prompted. "Are you okay?"
"I..." Lennox swallowed hard. "I have to finish packing up, okay? Your mom's probably waiting outside."
Mia's face fell a little but she nodded and grabbed her backpack. "Okay. See you next week."
"See you next week, Mia."
The girl left, and Lennox stood there in the empty computer room, hands shaking slightly as she shoved papers into her bag.
Does he look at you like you're the only person in the world?
No. He looked at her like she was a problem he didn't know how to solve. A contract he regretted signing. A beautiful lie he'd trapped himself in.
She guessed she was exactly that.