The phone screen glowed in the darkness, its incessant buzzing like a death knell.
Alexander Hamilton’s phone lay unlocked on the nightstand. Evelyn Carter stared at the flashing screen displaying the name “Annabelle Taylor.”
She turned away, pulling the covers over her head.
But the phone refused to relent, vibrating without pause. Finally, Evelyn snatched it up and typed a reply: He’s in the shower. This is Evelyn.
Silence fell instantly.
The sound of running water stopped. Alexander emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, and found Evelyn lying with her back to him, breathing evenly.
He picked up the phone with careful fingers, his brow furrowing. After a moment, he slid open the balcony door and lit a cigarette.
Evelyn opened her eyes.
The scent of tobacco drifted in, mingling with the cool night air. This was the third time she’d caught the smell on him since Annabelle returned.
“…It’s not what you think,” Alexander’s hushed voice carried from the balcony. “Evelyn isn’t that kind of person.”
Silence.
“Fine. I’ll be right down.”
The glass door slid open quietly. Alexander froze when he saw Evelyn sitting up in bed.
“Work emergency?” she asked.
“Yeah. A last-minute project.” He avoided her gaze. “Go back to sleep.”
As she watched him hastily change clothes, Evelyn spoke again. “Annabelle called.”
His hands stilled on his tie.
“She sounded urgent,” Evelyn said softly. “I promised I’d tell you.”
“…Right.”
“Aren’t you going to call her back?”
Alexander turned with that familiar gentle smile she knew so well. “You look pale. Have you been overworking? I’ll give you a massage later.”
He leaned down to tuck her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
The engine of his white Cayenne roared to life below. Evelyn stood by the window, watching its taillights vanish into the night.
“You just let him go?!” Vivian Dempsey’s shriek blasted through the phone. “He runs off to see his ex in the middle of the night, and you cover for him?!”
Evelyn gazed at the starless sky. “He said it was work.”
“Bullshit! What company holds meetings at 2 AM? Evelyn, wake up! They’re clearly rekindling their old flame!”
A lighter clicked on the other end. Vivian took a furious drag. “That Annabelle—her name’s practically identical to yours. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”
Of course it did.
She should’ve realized when Richard asked if she believed in platonic friendships between men and women. The way Alexander looked at Annabelle wasn’t how one looked at a friend.
It was twenty years of repressed longing.
“Vivian,” Evelyn’s voice trembled, “why do you think he chose me?”
A beat of silence.
“Are you stupid?!” Vivian exploded. “Because your goddamn name is Evelyn! The man’s obsessed with some twisted replacement fantasy!”
The night breeze lifted the curtains. Evelyn hugged herself.
During those intimate nights, when he whispered “Annabelle” against her skin—who had he really been calling for?
“Divorce him,” Vivian said. “Before there’s a child—”
Evelyn cut her off. “I’m pregnant.”
Glass shattered on the other end of the line.
