Part 1
7:14 A.M. — CROFT ESTATE
At 7:14 the next morning, Lucian Calloway stood in front of his closet in the guest suite he shared with Allison and discovered that every suit he owned suddenly looked guilty.
Black seemed too much like a funeral. Navy looked presidential, which was somehow worse, and gray made him look like a man arriving with six attorneys and a prepared statement denying everything.
He stared at the options as if one of them might eventually confess to being appropriate.
Behind him, Allison shifted beneath the blankets.
"You've been standing there for eight minutes."
Lucian didn't turn. "You were asleep."
"I was pretending."
"Why?"
"Because apparently husbands need private time to intimidate clothing."
That made him look over.
Allison's hair was everywhere, one eye was barely open, and the blanket was pulled beneath her chin. She looked comfortable in a way Lucian deeply resented at that moment.
