Page 3 of Frozen Promises

The hostess with the fake smile greets me when I walk in, but I skip the pleasantries and have her lead me to where Catalina is.

I half expect my wife not to be there. I’m twenty minutes late, so I can’t blame her if she left.

It will take a lot to get back in her good graces.

The thought fills me with dread especially since I feel a weird barrier between us these days. It feels like she’s shutting me out.

When we reach the table, Catalina is still there, her presence impossible to ignore.

She’s draped in a short, sequined dress that shimmers like the night sky on a clear evening, deep blue with flecks of silver that catch the light.

The fabric clings to every curve of her soft, alluring body, making it nearly impossible to look away.

I’m not the only one that thinks so because I catch a few men taking her in.

It makes me murderous. She is, without a doubt, a goddess, breathtaking and untouchable.

But this goddess is furious with her rage directed at me.

She doesn’t greet me when I take a seat, only looks at me with narrowed eyes and tight lips. Her freshly manicured nails tap against the rim of her wine glass, and she’s angled away from me, like she’s ready to bolt.

Before I have a chance to say anything, a server comes by taking my drink order. From the corner of my eye, I notice Catalina’s phone buzzing, which isn’t unusual since her job revolves around social media. However, the way she glances at me before looking down and typing has my hackles rising.

When Catalina is done furiously texting, she puts her phone facedown on the table. She’s hiding something from me.

“You know,” she starts, speaking for the first time since I’ve gotten here, “I thought that maybe because you planned this, you’d actually arrive on time.”

“I was held up—”

“In the office, I’m aware,” she snaps. “That seems to be your excuse every time. So, I’ve been thinking, you haven’t sent me your schedule for a long time. So, I went into your office today—”

“You went into my office?” She knows I hate people in my home office without permission.

My eyes narrow. I keep a few things to myself, and my office is one of them.

Not because I’m hiding anything from Catalina, but because there is confidential information in there.

I have things on my desk I don’t want touched or seen.

“And I logged into your work computer,” she continues as if I haven’t even spoken, “because I wanted to see your calendar. I thought surely my husband is working all these hours because he plans to take Christmas and New Year’s off. And you know what I found?”

I know exactly what she found. My jaw clenches as I fight to keep my anger in check.

I’ve never been good at controlling my temper, but Catalina is one of the few people I refuse to raise my voice at.

She’s my wife—she deserves my respect. Still, the bitterness rising in my throat is a sharp, acrid taste I can’t swallow down.

“I’m doing this for us,” I say, my voice steady but strained.

“For us?” She laughs humorlessly. “So, working during the holidays is for us? Working while I spend Christmas and New Year’s alone is for us?”

“Yes, carino. I do this to take care of us and to make sure we don’t go without.”

“But I’m going without you, Elias. Don’t you see that?” she snaps back.

Anger boils over, and I can’t hold back my frustration. “If you want to keep doing your silly little videos and traveling, then you’re going to have to get used to me being gone or busy. This is the life you signed up for when you agreed to marry me.”

The moment the words leave my lips, regret hits me like a freight train. A sharp ache twists in my gut as hurt, anger, and sadness flicker across Catalina’s face. Each emotion lands a well-aimed punch. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she blinks rapidly to hold them back.

“My silly videos?” she repeats, her voice quiet but sharp enough to make me flinch.

They aren’t silly. I know. I’ve always known that.

But frustration had taken over. And instead of handling it like a rational person, I lashed out, letting the worst version of myself talk.

Fuck.

This isn’t what I want.

“Carino.” I attempt to reach for her hand, but she yanks it away. I watch in horror as she pushes her chair back and stands. Her dress rides up her thigh. I shouldn’t be focusing on that, but I do until she speaks again.

“I want to go home.”

“Catalina—”

“Take me home, Elias. Now.”

Catalina doesn’t wait for a response. She turns sharply on her heel and strides toward the entrance, her back rigid with anger. She’s walking away from me—away from this mess, leaving a suffocating weight behind.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to believe that by morning, I’ll find a way to fix this. I fix everyone else’s shit, so I should be able to repair what’s broken between us. She just needs time to cool off. We both do.

Sliding a few bills onto the table, I push back my chair and follow her outside. The night air is thick with tension, and I brace myself for the long, silent car ride home.