Black Hamptons by Carl Weber

Author:Carl Weber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Urban Books
Published: 2022-06-10T00:00:00+00:00

Jeffrey Bowen

35

Saturday was my favorite day of the week because it was the day Leslie’s schedule was full of open houses, walk-throughs with clients, and whatever obligatory social gatherings she had committed herself to. It gave me plenty of free time during the day to sail, work out, or nap if I chose to. But then there were Saturday nights, which were our designated date night. I actually enjoyed planning our evening festivities, which always ended with great sex that I’d look forward to all week.

Recently, Leslie and I had been discussing having a baby, which motivated me to step up my romantic game. I made reservations at Capelletti, our favorite restaurant, and picked up a bouquet of calla lilies and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne to set the mood. Tonight was going to be a good night.

“Honey, I’m home,” I announced as I walked through the door precisely at six o’clock. Date night officially started at seven, which gave me an hour to shower, change, and get ready. Leslie’s SUV was in the driveway, but she didn’t answer, and she wasn’t in the great room, her favorite spot in the house.

“Les, where are you?”

“Here.” Her voice drifted downstairs.

I went into our bedroom and strolled over to the bed, where she was sitting with her sexy, toned legs crossed, looking gorgeous in a white sundress and heels. I dramatically presented the flowers to her.

“For my beautiful wife.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was flat, and she barely looked at the bouquet.

“How was the tea?”

As I bent down to kiss her forehead, the bottle of Don Julio on the nightstand caught my attention, along with the half empty glass in her hand. If she was drinking tequila, something was up.

“I don’t know. I was disinvited.” Leslie glared at me. “Aunt Carolyn wouldn’t even let me on the fucking boat.”

“What?” I put the bouquet on the bed and sat beside her.

“She’s pissed, and everyone knows. After meeting with the Mitchells—who, by the way, pulled their damn listing per Aunt Carolyn’s orders—I went down to the beach, and nobody in the circle would even talk to me. They were all acting like I was a pariah. And I even brought a very expensive bottle of wine.”

“Your beach cronies? You for real, babe?” I shook my head in disbelief. The wrath of Carolyn Britton wasn’t anything new to me, but subjecting my wife to her madness was beyond cruel. “You’ve known those women all your life. What the fuck? That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s Aunt Carolyn. She wants that property at any cost.” Leslie gulped her drink. “Why the fuck did you have to put that property up for bid, Jeffrey? This is your fault.”

“Mine? Your aunt’s irrational behavior has nothing to do with me. What did she say?”

“Nothing! She won’t talk to me, and neither will anyone else, other than Kimberly, who seems to think—”

The ringing of my cell phone interrupted her. I glanced at the caller ID on my watch and saw that it was Sydney Johnson.

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