Chapter 114: ALLISON CROFT HAS NO EMERGENCY

TUESDAY

6:42 A.M. — CALLOWAY RESIDENCE

ALLISON’S POV

There were three things Allison Croft Calloway had learned about herself recently.

One, she loved her husband.

Two, she enjoyed learning about finance far more than she had expected.

And three, she had absolutely no business attempting a roundhouse kick before seven in the morning.

"Ow!"

Allison hopped backward on one foot.

Across the private training room, her instructor lowered the kicking pad.

"That wasn’t terrible."

Allison stared at him.

"Marcus."

"Yes?"

"My leg just attempted to resign."

Marcus Reed, a former competitive kickboxer with an irritatingly cheerful personality, grinned.

"Your balance is improving."

"My balance is filing a complaint."

"Would you like water?"

"I’d like new legs."

He laughed.

Allison planted her hands on her hips and tried to catch her breath.

She’d started training a few weeks earlier.

At first, it had been something she wanted to try.

A hobby.

A reason to get out of her office chair.

Something that had nothing to do with meetings, lawyers, or complicated documents.

Now?

Now she was determined to land a proper roundhouse kick if it killed her.

Preferably without the dying part.

Marcus adjusted the pad.

"Again."

Allison narrowed her eyes.

"You’re enjoying this."

"I enjoy watching people improve."

"That’s a very polite way of saying you enjoy my suffering."

"Ready?"

She exhaled.

Settled her stance.

Pivoted her supporting foot.

Turned her hip.

And kicked.

THWACK!

The sound echoed through the room.

Marcus stepped back.

"There!"

Allison froze.

"Wait."

He smiled.

"That was good."

"Like actually good?"

"Actually good."

Allison threw both hands into the air.

"HA!"

Marcus laughed.

"Don’t celebrate too early. You’ve got another set."

Her smile vanished.

"You’re a terrible person."

"Three more."

"Marcus."

"Two if you keep your guard up."

Allison immediately raised her fists.

"See? Negotiation. I knew my business education would come in handy."

?

7:19 A.M. — TRAINING ROOM

LUCIAN’S POV

Lucian had intended to stop by the training room for thirty seconds.

Just long enough to tell Allison breakfast would be ready soon.

Instead, he stood in the doorway watching his wife repeatedly punch a heavy bag as though it had personally offended her.

"One-two. Slip. Two," Marcus instructed.

Allison moved.

Jab.

Cross.

A quick dip beneath an imaginary counterpunch.

Another cross.

Her ponytail swung behind her.

She wore black athletic leggings, a fitted purple workout shirt, and pink boxing gloves.

Lucian leaned against the doorframe.

Interesting.

Marcus noticed him first.

"Morning, Mr. Calloway."

Allison immediately stopped.

She turned.

"Why are you standing there?"

Lucian smiled.

"Admiring the technique."

"Mine or Marcus’s?"

"Yours."

"Correct answer."

She pulled off one glove with her teeth.

Lucian approached.

"How’s training?"

"Wonderful. I can barely feel my arms."

Marcus checked his watch.

"She’s doing well."

Allison pointed at him.

"Don’t lie to my husband."

"I’m not."

"He’s been making me kick things."

Lucian glanced toward the pad.

"Isn’t that the point?"

"Not when you say it like that."

Marcus chuckled.

"She’s learning combinations quickly. We worked on balance, footwork, and controlled strikes today."

Lucian looked at Allison.

"Sounds productive."

"It was. I also learned that muscles can have personal grudges."

He kissed her forehead.

"You look happy."

Allison paused.

She was sweaty.

Her hair was sticking to her neck.

Her legs felt like cooked noodles.

And she was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

"I am."

Lucian’s expression softened.

"Good."

Marcus began putting away the equipment.

"Same time Thursday?"

Allison nodded.

"Absolutely."

Then she looked at Lucian.

"Actually, you should come."

"To watch?"

"No. To train."

Lucian raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

Allison smiled sweetly.

"Marriage bonding."

Marcus looked between them.

Lucian considered.

"All right."

Allison blinked.

"Wait. Really?"

"Really."

Her eyes narrowed.

"That was suspiciously easy."

"You invited me."

"I thought you’d make me convince you."

Lucian smiled.

"Would you prefer that?"

Allison crossed her arms.

"You’re taking all the fun out of this."

?

8:06 A.M. — BREAKFAST

By the time Allison finished showering, the smell of fresh coffee had filled the kitchen.

Nora stood at the counter arranging breakfast.

Scrambled eggs.

Toast.

Fresh fruit.

And a small bowl of yogurt.

Allison walked in wearing an oversized cream sweater and comfortable shorts, her damp hair twisted into a loose bun.

She stopped beside Nora.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Nora smiled.

"Good morning."

Allison peeked at the plates.

"Are those pancakes?"

"Protein pancakes."

Allison frowned.

"Why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you’re trying to disguise something healthy as happiness."

Nora laughed.

"They’re pancakes, Mrs. Calloway."

Allison picked up a fork.

"Then we have no problems."

Lucian entered a moment later, now dressed for work.

He kissed Allison’s cheek before sitting.

"What’s your schedule today?"

She counted on her fingers.

"Breakfast. Shower again because apparently training makes you sweat even after training. Accounting practice. A call with Rachel at eleven. Then I’m going to the bookstore."

"Bookstore?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

He looked amused.

"Then why are you going?"

Allison stared at him.

"Lucian."

"Yes?"

"You don’t go to a bookstore because you need something."

"No?"

"You go because books exist."

Nora nodded approvingly.

"She’s right."

Lucian lifted his hands.

"I stand corrected."

Allison took a bite of pancake.

Then smiled.

"Oh, and I’m making dinner tonight."

Lucian paused.

Nora stopped moving.

Allison slowly lowered her fork.

"Why did both of you react like that?"

Lucian cleared his throat.

"I didn’t react."

"You stopped chewing."

Nora busied herself with the coffee machine.

Allison pointed between them.

"I can cook."

Lucian smiled.

"I know."

"Name something I’ve cooked."

He considered.

Allison narrowed her eyes.

"Careful."

"Toast."

Nora made a suspicious choking sound.

Allison gasped.

"LUCIAN!"

He laughed.

"I’m joking."

"You’re sleeping on the couch."

"Because of toast?"

"Because of disrespect."

Nora finally laughed openly.

Allison shook her head.

"Fine. You’ll both see. Tonight, I’m making dinner."

Lucian reached for her hand.

"I look forward to it."

She smiled.

"Good."

Then added, "Keep the takeout menus nearby just in case."

?

10:58 A.M. — ALLISON’S STUDY

Allison sat at her desk with a fresh notebook.

Her laptop displayed a practice spreadsheet Rachel had sent the previous evening.

At exactly eleven, the video call connected.

Rachel Kim appeared on screen wearing glasses and a navy blouse.

"Morning, Allison."

"Good morning."

"Ready?"

"Emotionally? Maybe."

Rachel laughed.

"Today we’re working through expense classification and bank reconciliation."

Allison picked up her pencil.

"Okay."

Rachel shared a sample ledger.

"Let’s start with something simple. A company purchases office supplies using its operating account. Where does that transaction go?"

Allison studied the spreadsheet.

"Office expenses."

"Correct."

"And the bank balance?"

"Decreases."

"Good."

Rachel moved to another entry.

"What about a customer payment that appears in the company’s records but hasn’t cleared the bank yet?"

Allison paused.

"Outstanding deposit?"

"Deposit in transit."

"Right. I knew it was traveling somewhere."

Rachel smiled.

They worked through several examples.

Some Allison understood immediately.

Others required Rachel to explain twice.

Once, Allison mixed up an outstanding check with a deposit in transit and groaned so loudly Rachel started laughing.

"You’re allowed to get things wrong," Rachel reminded her.

"I know. I just prefer getting things right."

"Most people do."

By the end of the session, Allison had completed a basic reconciliation without assistance.

She stared at the screen.

"Wait."

Rachel smiled.

"What?"

"That balances."

"It does."

"All of it?"

"Every dollar."

Allison leaned back.

"Oh, I like that."

Rachel laughed.

"There’s something satisfying about finding where everything belongs."

Allison nodded.

There was.

She wasn’t suddenly an expert.

She still needed to practice.

But every session gave her something she hadn’t possessed the week before.

A little more understanding.

A little more confidence.

And a reason to look forward to the next lesson.

Rachel closed the spreadsheet.

"Your assignment is to review two practice ledgers before Friday."

"Got it."

"And Allison?"

"Yes?"

"Remember to take breaks."

Allison smiled.

"Funny you should mention that. I’m going shopping for books."

"That sounds like you."

The call ended.

Allison closed her laptop.

Then stretched.

Her shoulders immediately protested.

"Oh, Marcus. You evil man."

?

12:34 P.M. — NORFOLK BOOKSTORE

AUTHOR POV

The bookstore was tucked between a small café and a flower shop.

Warm lighting spilled across wooden shelves, and the scent of coffee drifted through the aisles.

Allison had come alone.

No appointment afterward.

No one waiting in a car with a schedule.

Just her, a canvas tote bag, and a very questionable amount of self-control.

She wandered through fiction first.

Romance.

Mystery.

Fantasy.

Then she discovered a table labeled:

STAFF PICKS — BOOKS YOU WON’T WANT TO PUT DOWN

Allison stopped.

"Oh, that’s dangerous."

A bookseller nearby smiled.

"Looking for anything particular?"

"Not really."

"Those are some of our favorites."

Allison picked up a mystery novel.

Read the back.

Then another.

And another.

Twenty minutes later, she was carrying four books.

She looked down.

"This is how it starts."

Her phone buzzed.

Simone.

What are you doing?

Allison typed:

Being financially irresponsible in a bookstore.

The response came immediately.

WITHOUT ME?

Allison laughed.

You’re at work.

I can leave.

Simone.

I’m joking. Mostly.

Allison sent a photograph of her books.

Simone replied:

Buy the purple one.

Allison looked at the stack.

There was, in fact, a purple one.

How did you know?

Because I know you.

Allison smiled.

She bought the books.

All four.

And a bookmark.

Because apparently adulthood also meant nobody could stop her from purchasing a bookmark shaped like a tiny sword.

?

2:03 P.M. — CALLowAY RESIDENCE

ALLISON’S POV

Allison returned home carrying groceries.

Nora met her in the kitchen.

"How was your afternoon?"

"Wonderful."

Allison placed the bags on the counter.

"I bought books."

"I can see that."

"And groceries."

Nora looked inside.

"Chicken, potatoes, asparagus, garlic, lemons..."

Allison nodded proudly.

"Tonight’s menu."

Nora smiled.

"Would you like help?"

Allison considered.

"Can you supervise?"

"Of course."

"But not take over."

"Understood."

"And if I do something stupid, tell me before I burn the house down."

Nora laughed.

"That I can promise."

They began preparing dinner.

Allison washed the vegetables.

Nora showed her how to trim the asparagus.

Allison seasoned the chicken herself.

When she accidentally added too much paprika to one piece, Nora calmly suggested adjusting the others rather than panicking.

It was surprisingly enjoyable.

There was music playing softly from Allison’s phone.

The kitchen smelled like garlic and lemon.

And for the first time in a long while, Allison wasn’t trying to accomplish something important.

She was simply learning to make dinner.

At one point, she held up a potato.

"Do I peel this?"

"Not necessarily."

Allison looked offended.

"Why do recipes never explain these things?"

"Because there are different ways to prepare potatoes."

"That sounds like an excuse."

Nora laughed.

By four o’clock, the chicken was in the oven, the potatoes were roasting, and Allison had discovered that cooking required far more washing up than she’d anticipated.

She stared at the sink.

"Nobody talks about this part."

Nora smiled.

"Welcome to cooking."

Allison sighed.

"I understand why restaurants exist now."

?

5:27 P.M. — CALLOWAY RESIDENCE

LUCIAN’S POV

Lucian arrived home to the smell of roasted garlic.

He paused in the foyer.

Interesting.

Then he heard Allison’s voice.

"Nora, I think it’s ready!"

Lucian followed the sound into the dining room.

The table was set.

Candles stood in the center.

Two plates waited beside neatly folded napkins.

Allison appeared from the kitchen wearing an apron over her dress.

Across the front, in large pink letters, were the words:

KISS THE CHEF

Lucian stopped.

Then smiled.

"Well."

Allison lifted her chin.

"Welcome to my restaurant."

He looked around.

"Do I need a reservation?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you have a table available?"

She pretended to consult an invisible book.

"Hmm. Mr. Calloway. Party of two?"

"Yes."

"Special occasion?"

"Dinner with my wife."

Allison smiled.

"Excellent answer. Right this way."

She led him to his chair.

Lucian sat.

Then looked at the plates as Allison served the food.

Roasted chicken.

Garlic potatoes.

Asparagus.

A simple lemon sauce.

It smelled wonderful.

Allison watched him closely.

"Well?"

He picked up his fork.

Took a bite.

Chewed.

Allison leaned forward.

"Lucian."

He swallowed.

"This is really good."

She blinked.

"Really?"

"Really."

She smiled.

"You’re not just saying that because we’re married?"

"No."

"Because I could have Nora taste it."

"Nora helped you make it."

"Supervised."

"Of course."

Allison sat down.

Then took a bite herself.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh."

Lucian laughed.

"What?"

"I did that."

"You did."

She looked delighted.

"That’s actually good!"

"I told you."

Allison pointed her fork at him.

"Don’t get too comfortable. I’m not becoming your personal chef."

Lucian smiled.

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

They ate together.

No interruptions.

No work calls.

No urgent meetings.

Just dinner.

And Allison spent the next twenty minutes explaining every step of the recipe as though she’d personally invented roasted chicken.

Lucian listened to every word.

?

7:16 P.M. — BACK PATIO

ALLISON’S POV

After dinner, Allison and Lucian sat outside beneath the patio lights.

The evening air was pleasant.

A soft breeze moved through the garden.

Allison had changed into comfortable lounge clothes, her legs stretched across Lucian’s lap.

He was reading a book.

She was pretending to read one.

Mostly, she was watching him.

Lucian turned a page.

"You’re staring."

"No, I’m not."

He glanced at her.

She smiled.

"Okay, maybe."

"Why?"

"You’re handsome."

"Thank you."

"Annoyingly handsome."

"That’s unfortunate."

"Very."

He closed his book.

"What’s on your mind?"

Allison thought about the question.

Then looked toward the garden.

"Today was nice."

"It was."

"I trained. Studied. Bought books. Cooked dinner."

"And threatened to exile me to the couch."

"That was justified."

Lucian laughed.

Allison smiled.

Then grew thoughtful.

"I think I want to keep doing this."

"Cooking?"

"Everything."

He waited.

"The training. My classes. Going places because I want to. Learning things without needing some enormous reason."

Lucian brushed his thumb across her ankle.

"Then keep doing it."

She looked at him.

"That’s it?"

"That’s it."

Allison smiled.

She appreciated how uncomplicated the answer was.

No elaborate plan.

No debate.

Just permission she didn’t actually need.

Her life belonged to her.

And she was beginning to enjoy it.

She shifted closer.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Always."

"I think I’m getting good at being boring."

Lucian laughed.

"You’re many things, Allison. Boring isn’t one of them."

"Well, I want boring sometimes."

He kissed her forehead.

"Then we’ll have boring."

She smiled.

"With occasional excitement."

"Naturally."

"And dessert."

"Of course."

"And you coming to kickboxing Thursday."

Lucian paused.

Allison slowly grinned.

"Oh, you forgot."

"I didn’t forget."

"You did."

"I was hoping you had."

She gasped.

"Lucian Calloway!"

He laughed.

Allison sat upright.

"Thursday. Six-thirty. Training room."

"Six-thirty?"

"Yes."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

"You’re enjoying this."

"Immensely."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

Then whispered against his lips:

"Don’t worry, husband. I’ll go easy on you."

Lucian smiled.

"That’s what I’m afraid of."

?

THURSDAY

6:31 A.M. — PRIVATE TRAINING ROOM

AUTHOR POV

Marcus Reed stood in the center of the training room holding two sets of gloves.

Allison wore purple.

Lucian wore black.

Marcus looked between them.

"Before we start, one rule."

Allison nodded seriously.

"No hitting below the belt."

Lucian turned toward her.

"That wasn’t what he was going to say."

"How do you know?"

Marcus cleared his throat.

"Actually, my rule was that we’re practicing technique, not competing."

Allison looked disappointed.

"Oh."

Lucian smiled.

Marcus continued.

"Today we’ll work on footwork, defensive movement, and controlled combinations. No contact sparring."

Allison nodded.

"Fine."

They began with warm-ups.

Lucian moved through the stretches easily.

Allison watched him.

"Why are you good at stretching?"

He looked over.

"Because I stretch."

"Show-off."

Marcus laughed.

Then they moved to the heavy bags.

"Jab. Cross. Reset."

Lucian followed the instructions.

His movements were controlled and efficient.

Allison watched.

Then frowned.

"Marcus."

"Yes?"

"Why is he doing that correctly?"

Lucian laughed.

"I’ve trained before."

Allison turned.

"You WHAT?"

"Boxing. Years ago."

She stared.

"You withheld information."

"You didn’t ask."

"That’s marital fraud."

Marcus nearly dropped his pad laughing.

Lucian shook his head.

"Allison."

"No. This is serious."

She pointed toward the bag.

"I invited you here expecting to be impressive."

"You are impressive."

"Don’t distract me with compliments."

Marcus regained his composure.

"Allison, let’s work on your combination."

She turned back.

"Fine."

He raised the pads.

"One-two. Left hook. Reset."

Allison moved.

Jab.

Cross.

Hook.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Marcus nodded.

"Excellent."

Allison smiled.

Lucian clapped.

She turned.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Then Marcus said, "Lucian, your turn."

Allison folded her arms.

"Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Calloway."

Lucian stepped forward.

Marcus raised the pads.

Lucian moved through the combination smoothly.

Allison stared.

Then slowly turned toward Marcus.

"I want a divorce."

Both men burst out laughing.

"From kickboxing!" she added. "I’m divorcing kickboxing."

Lucian laughed harder.

Marcus lowered the pads.

"She’s actually doing very well."

Allison sighed.

"Thank you."

"Her kicks are stronger than yours."

Lucian looked over.

Allison’s head snapped up.

"Excuse me?"

Marcus nodded.

"She’s been working on her hip rotation. You haven’t trained kicks in years."

Allison slowly smiled.

Then turned toward her husband.

"Oh."

Lucian sighed.

"Here we go."

"Oh, Mr. Calloway."

"Allison."

"Would you like a demonstration?"

Marcus laughed.

Lucian shook his head.

"Please."

Allison stepped toward the pad.

Adjusted her stance.

Pivoted.

And delivered a clean roundhouse kick.

THWACK!

Marcus nodded approvingly.

Lucian clapped.

Allison turned toward him with the most smug expression he’d ever seen.

"Who’s impressive now?"

Lucian approached.

"You."

She smiled.

"Correct."

He leaned down and kissed her.

Allison laughed against his mouth.

Marcus cleared his throat.

"Are we continuing training, or should I come back after the honeymoon?"

Allison pulled away.

"We’re continuing."

Then she looked at Lucian.

"Because apparently I have a championship to win."

?

8:14 A.M. — CALLOWAY RESIDENCE

LUCIAN’S POV

By breakfast, Allison had informed Nora of her kickboxing victory.

Twice.

Lucian sat beside her, drinking coffee.

Nora smiled.

"So you beat Mr. Calloway?"

Allison nodded proudly.

"Decisively."

Lucian looked up.

"We didn’t compete."

"That’s what losers say."

Nora laughed.

Lucian shook his head.

"Marcus said your kick was better."

"Exactly."

"One kick."

"A historic kick."

He smiled.

Allison leaned against his shoulder.

For a moment, she grew quiet.

Lucian looked down.

"Tired?"

"A little."

"Good tired?"

She nodded.

"The best kind."

He kissed her hair.

Then his phone buzzed.

A routine calendar reminder.

He glanced at it.

Nothing urgent.

Nothing that couldn’t wait until he reached the office.

He placed the phone facedown.

Allison noticed.

"Everything okay?"

"Everything’s fine."

She smiled.

"Good."

Then she reached for another pancake.

Lucian watched her.

She was laughing more.

Sleeping better.

Trying new things.

Making plans for herself.

Not every change in their lives needed to be announced.

Some happened quietly.

In kitchens.

Bookstores.

Training rooms.

And ordinary mornings when the only thing Allison Croft Calloway needed to defeat was a heavy bag.

Or, apparently, her husband’s pride.

?

FRIDAY

4:47 P.M. — ALLISON’S STUDY

ALLISON’S POV

Allison finished her second practice ledger and checked the totals.

Everything balanced.

She stared at the spreadsheet.

Then checked again.

Still balanced.

A smile spread across her face.

She saved the file and sent it to Rachel.

Finished both assignments. I think I finally understand deposits in transit.

Rachel replied a few minutes later.

Excellent work. We’ll review them Monday. Enjoy your weekend.

Allison closed her laptop.

Outside her window, the late afternoon sunlight warmed the garden.

Her gym bag rested beside the door.

Four new books waited on her shelf.

A handwritten recipe sat tucked into her notebook.

Her calendar held another training session, another finance lesson, and lunch with Simone next week.

Nothing extraordinary.

Nothing that would make headlines.

But every item belonged to her.

Allison picked up her phone and opened her messages.

She typed to Lucian:

Important announcement.

He responded almost immediately.

I’m listening.

I have officially survived an entire week without an emergency.

A pause.

Then:

Congratulations, Mrs. Calloway.

She grinned.

I expect flowers.

Naturally.

And dinner.

Of course.

And recognition for my kickboxing victory.

This time, his response took longer.

You landed one better kick.

Allison gasped.

She typed:

THE DISRESPECT.

Lucian replied:

I love you.

She smiled.

Love you too. But I’m still the champion.

His final message appeared.

Whatever you say, champion.

Allison laughed.

Then placed her phone down.

She walked to the bookshelf and selected the purple mystery novel she’d bought earlier that week.

For once, she had nowhere she needed to be.

Nobody waiting for her to solve a problem.

No urgent decisions.

No complicated conversations.

Just a comfortable chair, a good book, and a quiet afternoon.

She curled up beneath a blanket.

Opened the first page.

And smiled.

Because Allison Croft Calloway had finally discovered something wonderful.

A peaceful life didn’t have to be an empty one.

Sometimes, it was simply a life full of things she chose for herself.