The Runaway MC Princess

ANDY Just after 8 PM, the phone rang. It was my first evening off in ages, and I never answered unknown numbers. After years of burying my past and showing the world this Andy—the underpaid, overworked vet tech at an animal rescue shelter across town—even now, I was still careful. No one knew who I had once been or what I had been hiding from. To everyone else, I was simply a young woman with a quiet life, a good job, and a husband who loved me. At least, that's what I tell myself. I sat at the kitchen island with a glass of merlot, staring at the messages between Gideon and me. They were becoming less frequent. Most were me reaching out and getting ignored or one-word responses. He had left for the station early that morning, promising he would be home in time for our third anniversary dinner. Just as I finished setting the table, he messaged me to cancel. [Something came up. Working late. Don’t wait up.] That was it. He never used to leave so early, and he never stayed out past his shift. When we first got married, we would stay in bed under the covers until the last possible minute. And the moment he'd get home, I'd be in his arms and carried to whatever flat surface could support us both. Sometimes, even the floor would suffice. I'm not sure when things changed. Lately, Gideon left before sunrise, almost as if he couldn't wait to leave, and he wouldn't come back until long after dinner. With my hours at the clinic and his at the station, it was starting to feel like we were more roommates than husband and wife of three years. I stared at the caller ID. It wasn't a number saved in my contacts, but out of habit, I answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?" "Hello, is this Andy McCormick?" The woman's voice was bright, polished, and efficient. I frowned. "Yes, may I ask who's calling?" "Oh, I'm so sorry. I am Brea Kelly. I am the front desk officer at your husband's precinct." "Oh, okay." There was a brief pause, followed by the sound of papers being shuffled on the other end. "Is everything alright with Gideon? Is he hurt?" Panic was already taking hold of my thoughts. The worst possible scenarios were plaguing my mind. The woman chuckled lightheartedly. "Oh heavens no, I am calling on his behalf. There is a file in his office. It should be sitting on the desk. We need that brought over, if you wouldn't mind." I gripped my wine glass tighter. "Wait, Gideon asked? He typically keeps his private office locked." "I understand that. He mentioned that the key was in the top drawer of his nightstand. He really needs the file for a case he's been working on for four years; they think they may have caught a break, but he needs the file to confirm." The kitchen felt even quieter. I swallowed, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in my stomach. Gideon made it clear that I was never to set foot in his private office. He claimed it held sensitive police files. Confidential files. It seemed a little strange that he would suddenly break his own rules after three years. "What did my husband say again, sorry?" The front desk officer gave a small laugh. "No worries, it's normal to be nervous, especially when detectives have confidential files locked away, but Gideon has asked me to ask you to bring him the file. How else would I know where the key for his office was?" I stared at the empty wall ahead, my mind refusing to catch up. "Okay." I pushed myself up from the stool and walked upstairs. I paused in the hallway, looking first at the master bedroom, then at the guest room across the hall, the one Gideon had been using more often. He said his unpredictable work hours made it better for him to sleep there so he wouldn't wake me. But my immediate thought was, what wife gets upset being woken up when their husband finally makes it home safely? It didn't make sense to me, but Gideon had never given me any real reason to question things between us. What I do know is that if Gideon claims the key is in his nightstand, it'll be the guest room one and not our master bedroom. "Do you have the key yet?" she pressed, that same bright chirp in her voice. A little too eager, like she already knew where everything in that room was. I moved to the office door and unlocked it. It felt like breaking the law. Half of me expected Gideon to appear out of nowhere and demand to know why I was trespassing in his private space. The file was exactly where she'd said it would be, tucked under a stack of case notes in the bottom drawer. I locked the office back up, told her it was handled, and hung up. Brea Kelly. I knew the name, though I'd never officially met her. She’d been at Gideon’s precinct for months. She was beautiful, sophisticated, and always so kind and sweet when Gideon spoke of her. “A great addition to the station; all the guys love her.” Last month I had to work an emergency clinic call and couldn’t attend a fundraiser with Gideon, but I saw the pictures posted online after. In most of the pictures, she was always touching his arm in some way, or he had his hand on the small of her waist. They shared many dances, and sat with one another at the function's dinner. When I asked him about it that night, he barely looked at me. "She's a colleague. Nothing more." And that was that. With a heavy sigh, I locked the door and headed back downstairs. Everything was spotless in the living room. Expensive furniture, plain cream walls, bookshelves full of nothing but Gideon's military and criminal psychology books. Then I noticed something I’d never seen before. There were no pictures of us—or me. Not one. After three years, not a single photo showed we were together. I never realized how empty the room was until now. I touched my wedding ring, and my stomach felt heavy. I started to wonder when things became empty. From promises to rooms in the house, things were changing. Was it a coincidence that Brea had called tonight, sounding so certain of a key she shouldn't have known about? Or had Gideon meant to spend these hours with her all along? The thought settled in with a quiet, awful certainty. I grabbed my keys and walked out the front door. If Gideon wants to spend the night at work instead of with me, I could give us a reason to spice things up a little more between us. With that devious thought in mind, I hurried upstairs to change into something a little more suggestive, then came back down to pack up the dinner he missed. It was time to save this marriage and remind Gideon who his wife really was.