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  I don’t know what goes on in other households, but right now I feel like one lucky motherfucker. A sexy-as-hell wife, a killer studio, and the best damn welcome home I’ve ever received in my life.

  After our fun in the studio, I leave Declan to his toys and go upstairs to freshen up for bed. Looking at myself in the mirror, it all starts to resurface. The guilt. The remorse. The nagging feeling that even though things between Declan and I are on the right track, a part of me will never be able to forgive myself for almost giving up on us.

  No amount of gifts and blow jobs are going to make up for it. And it’s not that Declan is even the one making it difficult for us to get past it. It’s me. I made my bed and I have to lie in it and live with it… and all the reminders of the things I almost had with Noah. I know I’m back where I belong, but I was so close to giving my heart to someone else and that still scares the shit out of me.

  Old habits are hard to break. Not that I plan on making a habit of hooking up with old flames, but now that we’ve been down that road of separation and infidelity—will we fall into old patterns? Wind up taking each other for granted again? It’s only going to get harder with time, and age. We’re still the same two people we always were and although I’d like to think what didn’t ruin our marriage will make it stronger—things can go the other way too.

  I replace the cap on the eye cream and remove the one from the hand cream. All these anti-aging remedies that probably mean diddly. I can’t erase the wear and tear on my skin any more than I can erase the evidence of the toll that time takes on a marriage. As much as any husband and wife love each other, and vow to stick through good times and bad until death do they part, things get in the way… life gets in the way. I like to tell myself that we’ve been through the worst, but there are no damn guarantees—not even branding your spouse’s name on your body sets anything in stone.

  “Damn it!” I sigh, gripping the granite countertop as I scowl into the mirror. “The past is the past… we can only move forward.”

  Declan told me that the first night we got back together. It’s been a calming mantra every time I have a freak-out, melt-down moment. I try to let the soothing message penetrate, wondering why my mind is wandering back to bad thoughts when things are so obviously good. It must be that he was away. Just the mention of Hong Kong makes both of us want to break out in hives. Business trips and the Murphy’s just don’t mix. I’ve got to find a way to put an end to them for good… maybe I can call Robert myself and beg him to keep Declan safe and sound in his cubicle from now until retirement. That should go over well.

  Before I have the time to concoct a persuasive email to Declan’s boss in my warped brain, I notice my husband standing behind me, staring.

  “What?” I ask, my hand on my hip. I hope he can’t see through me—all those doubtful thoughts running around haphazardly.

  “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”

  “Declan, stop. You must be jetlagged.” I start to walk past him, disregarding his compliment. I’m in a pair of his freaking boxers and an oversized t-shirt. What can possibly be beautiful about that?

  He catches me by the wrist, stopping me from passing him in the doorway. I look down to where his hand is gripping my arm and then back up to his eyes. Territorial. I love it when he looks at me like that.

  “Don’t you want to know what your gift is?” he asks, pulling my hand to his lips, kissing each of my knuckles. His tenderness almost erases all the uneasiness I felt before. It makes it a little easier to chant that mantra and believe it. Maybe I am all he needs. Maybe the worst is finally behind us.

  I hook my arms around his neck, and lean my body against his. “I’m actually dying to know, but I figured you got too busy at work and forgot to book it. I didn’t want to nag.”

  “Ye have little faith, Mrs. Murphy,” he says, pulling my hair out of the messy bun piled on top of my head. “Ready to let your hair down in Newport next week?”

  “Newport? Next week? Oh my God, really?” I pull back, clasping my hands together and practically jumping up and down. I’ve wanted to go to Newport for forever. How did he remember? I haven’t mentioned it in a long time. My parents used to go every year before they had me. I’d always wanted to go with Declan, but getting pregnant three minutes after our wedding kind of put a glitch in that plan. Newport has always been something I wanted to experience as a couple, not as a family.

  As if he can read my mind, he answers, “Yup, I remembered and it’s been long overdue. We leave Monday.” He pulls me in tighter, taking a long sniff of my hair.

  I nuzzle against him, happy to be in his arms. Safe from worries… for now. “Wait. Monday? What about the kids?”

  “Doubting me again?” he asks, walking backwards toward the bed, holding my hand to guide me. “Relax, babe. I got it covered.”

  I should heed my own advice, but it’s really hard to relax and play it cool when I have to make a decision that could change everything… all over again. I push it out of mind, totally fucking annoyed that I’ll have to taint our getaway with this news.

  She might not know it, but I know Mia’s been having a hard time. I catch her crying and… writing. I’m all too familiar with that feeling—the need to purge. She’s got a lot on her mind and the only way to free herself is to get it down.

  I know I have nothing to worry about. This isn’t her second-guessing her decision. This is her second-guessing herself. She’s always been her own worst critic. Shit… it doesn’t help that Grace didn’t back her up during our separation and practically walked around sporting Team Declan paraphernalia to show her alliance. She needs me now more than ever and if I take this offer and leave for weeks at a clip, month after month, I’m pretty sure she’ll tailspin all over again. God, it should be an easy decision—cut and dried. Unfortunately, there’s a lot on the line no matter which way I sway.

  “What’s going on up there?” Mia asks, distracting me from my musings.

  I inch closer to the edge of the bed, opening my legs and pulling Mia between them. “Nothing worth ruining the night over, babe. Just work shit.”

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Positive.” I keep thinking of Mia’s Band-Aid method when it comes to things like this. Maybe I should just get it over with now. I hate withholding something like this from her, even for a weekend, but I know that she’ll be more receptive in a more relaxed environment. One can only hope.

  Pulling on the hem of her worn university t-shirt, I look up at her with a devilish grin. “Can we finish what we started downstairs?”

  Lifting the shirt over her head and tossing it to the side to reveal the most gorgeous set of perfectly-sized breasts I’ve ever seen, she smirks, “You’re asking? Since when? The Declan I know usually just takes what he wants.”

  “Now, this is true.”

  “You know what else it true?” she asks, pushing me down on the bed.

  “That I’m irresistible?”

  Shedding her shorts, she crawls on top of me, giggling. “Well, yes, that, but…” She hesitates. The vixen vanishes as she looks into my eyes, her voice catching. “I love you so much, Declan. I love you so damn much it hurts sometimes.”

  I understand this sentiment. It’s not just a phrase people use in desperation or to sound poetic. It is entirely possible to love someone so much that it actually effects your physical being. Your heart beats faster and stronger. Your blood pumps wilder and thicker. Your brain bends, chasing images and memories of the person who does all these incredible things to your body.

  That is a good hurt. It proves that you’re alive. I mean, if you can’t love fully—with every molecule that you’re made of—then what’s the point? But I worry that Mia’s hurt comes from actual pain. The pain of guilt—letting go and moving on and trying to forget mistakes.

  “I know, baby. But there’s no more room for the bad hurt, okay?”

  She rests her head against my chest and I run m
y fingers along her spine, hoping to lull her. There are things we’ll need to talk about on this trip. Keeping it bottled up has obviously taken its toll on her and I can’t bear to see her hurting for one more second of our life together.

  I just hope that together we can figure it all out without making any more mistakes.

  Cara lets out an ear-piercing wail, “She has my cup, Mom! I want the blue one!”

  “Blue is mine. You get pink!” Charlie holds the cup close to her chest, like it’s the chalice Jesus used at the Last Supper.

  Jesus Christ, is right! Where the hell is my mother-in-law already?

  “Girls,” Declan reprimands, coming down the stairs with the last bit of our luggage. “Enough bickering. Do you want Mommy and Daddy to come back? Or stay away for good?”

  I shoot Declan an ‘if only’ look, winking. I’d love to run away and never return when they’re acting like this. But I try to remember that they won’t always be this way. Right? My mother swears that one day I’ll miss hearing them fight over nonsense. I doubt it, but I have no choice but to take her word for it.

  Or actually run away.

  “Come on, girls. Nana and Pops will be here any minute. Give us big squeezes that will last all week.” I inch down to their level and Charlie jumps in my lap first.

  “Not fair! You love her more! She’s your favorite!” Cara sulks.

  I scoot Charlie over on one knee to make room for Cara on the other. “Look I have two laps. One for each of you. Now get over here and give me a smooch!”

  The little witch with premature PMS sticks her tongue out at her sister as she hops on my other knee. “I’m gonna miss you, Mommy,” she whines with her blond curls tickling the crook of my neck.

  Not even a second later, Charlie’s singing the same tune. “Do you have to go?”

  Is a pig’s ass pork? “Yes, girls. We have to go, but you’ll forget all about us being gone because you’re going to have the best week ever with your grandparents!”

  Declan leans against the door frame, staring out our three-girl pile-up. “Yeah, girls, just think… ice cream for breakfast, cartoons ‘til midnight. Totally take advantage while you can.”

  “Dec, are you out of your mind?”

  “Who cares? We won’t be here to deal with their sugar highs. Be total animals, girls. In fact, don’t we have the movie Problem Child on DVD? Let them take some pointers.”

  “Oh my God, you’re terrible!” I scold him, using my hands to cover the girls’ ears.

  “I want ice cream for breakfast!” Charlie chants as she slides down my knee.

  “Yeah! Me too! When are they getting here already?” Cara follows devil number two to the window to watch for their victims.

  “See,” Declan says, walking closer to me. He snakes his arms around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “They’re not whining about us going anywhere now. You gotta know how to work ‘em, babe.”

  He leans down to nip at my ear and I back away, swatting his broad shoulder. “And your poor parents are never going to let us take another trip again thanks to the shit they’re gonna pull.”

  “You forget they raised me and Connor. Don’t worry about them. Worry about me and all the ways you plan to please me this week.” He lunges for me and I make a dash for the kitchen chair, but he catches me before I have the chance to tease him. He surprises me by roughly claiming my mouth, as his hands roam my body and wind up tangled in my hair.

  I give in to the moment because it feels too good not to and just as my hands creep into the waistband of my husband’s jeans… we’re stopped by toe-tapping and throat-clearing.

  “Can’t you two wait a few more hours?” Sheila, my mother-in-law, asks with a drawn-in eyebrow cocked. “I guess I should be expecting grandchild number three after this little getaway, huh?”

  “Ma, really?” Declan groans, his arms still wrapped around me. “We’re trying to get away from the kids. Not make more of them.”

  “I know you don’t need a lesson in the birds and the bees so if you don’t want another curly, blonde whirling dervish popping out in nine months, be safe.”

  “Okaaayyy,” I say, backing away in mortification from my husband. Declan takes this as his cue to take the luggage to the car and I walk over to give my mother-in-law a proper greeting.

  “Hi, Mom.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and she brings me in for an unexpected hug.

  When she has me close enough, she whispers in my ear, “I was only kidding. You two better do all kinds of rekindling on this trip. Have a ball… or two.”

  I back away, cringing. “Sheila! Oh my God!”

  She covers her mouth, giggling. “Just saying…”

  “What? What is she just saying now?” My father-in-law enters the room with a smiling granddaughter in each arm.

  “Nothing,” I say, red-faced and giving Sheila the don’t-you-dare look. “Hi, Dad.” I plant a kiss on his cheek.

  Cara takes this as her opportunity to latch on one last time. Her arms put me in a choke hold as she hangs from my neck. “You can go now, Mommy.”

  “Oh, can I now, Missy?”

  “Yeah, go on already. We’re going to have fun! And just when it’s getting to be a little too much fun, Granny and Gramps Page get to take over. YAY!” My father-in-law fist pumps and does a silly dance, making Charlie break out into hysterical laughter.

  By the time we’ve kissed the kids a zillion times and gone over their routines another zillion, I’m ready for a nap. I try not to give in to the yawn, but it’s impossible. Charlie had a hard time sleeping last night and kept me up—in her toddler bed—most of the night.

  Declan looks over to me from the driver’s side, smiling and places a hand on my knee. “You can start your relaxation now if you want. I don’t mind if you close your eyes. I want you rested for our first night in Newport anyway.”

  As much as I’d like to take him up on his offer, I can’t bear to flake out on him now. This trip is about us and I intend on making every single second of it count. “Thanks, baby. But I made a CD for the road. Wanna sing me some Lifehouse?”

  Fleeting moments, Promises broken, We struggle just to keep it real…

  Of all the times for lyrics and melodies to pop into my head, it’s gotta be now? I had a whole weekend in that glorious studio and couldn’t come up with a goddamn fucking thing. But now my mojo’s back—in the car, without the guitar or even so much as a notepad to jot these ramblings down. I’ll have to rely on my heart to memorize what I feel. That usually works itself out anyway.

  Mia fought off the yawns and the head-nods for most of the trip, but she finally gave into the exhaustion about half hour ago. Poor girl doesn’t even look at peace in her sleep. I hope I can erase all her worries and concerns for our future this weekend.

  Fat chance of that when you tell her about Hong Kong.

  I’ve decided that I’m going to let her decide. Either way. I know at first she’ll do the selfless thing and say I should take it. But, like with anything else, once she really mulls it over I’ll know how she really feels. I have to do what’s best for my marriage and if that means putting Mia before my career, then so be it. I can find another job—I don’t want to find another wife.

  Without even thinking about it, I lean over and take her limp hand in mine. I rub her soft skin in circles with my thumb. She starts to stir and I feel bad that I’m waking her from her sleep, so I slowly slip my hand from hers and return it to the steering wheel.

  Still sleeping, she mumbles something barely audible, and a smile spreads across her face.

  Fuck! That dude better not be creeping into her dreams again. I thought we were over that. I contemplate nudging her awake before she has the chance to speak his name the way I’ve heard her do before. But just as I’m about to lean over, she whispers my name.

  “I love you, Declan. Always. You.”

  Man, if that wasn’t sobering I don’t know what is. As close as we’ve become since getting back together, w
e’re still in this limbo of sorts. There’s a lot we’ve been avoiding in fear of hurting the other’s feelings or coming clean with the truth. But the rage I felt at the mere thought of her dreaming about him again—solidifies everything I’ve been saying for the last few weeks. We need this trip, a good long talk, and maybe even a session or ten with a marriage counselor. I’m not too proud to admit when things need help and I’d rather sound like a pussy in front of some shrink than beg my wife to come back to me again.

  By the time we pull up to the rental, Mia’s awake and stretching, causing her tank top to creep up and reveal the smooth, tanned skin of her stomach. Yeah, I still notice things like that, especially since I intend to explore lots more of my wife’s glowing skin this week.

  I put the car in park, and pinch her on the waist, sending her into a giggle fit. “I can’t believe you let me fall asleep. I’m the worst copilot ever.”

  Pawing her like a horny teenager dying to round the bases, I joke with a wink, “I can think of a way for you to repay me.”

  “Not even here a full minute and you’re already at it. Are we even going to leave this house once or do you plan on keeping me locked in the bedroom the whole time?”

  Now, that sounds like the perfect way to spend an entire week, but I know Mia wants to actually see the sights of Newport, so maybe I’ll let her out once or twice.

  Pulling her toward me with my hand at her nape, I nip her bottom lip and poke my tongue through when she opens her mouth with an adorable gasp. I feel her smile against my lips as her hands make their way into my hair. She tugs as we make out in the front seat without a single ounce of shame. Love it! What a way to start this vacay.

  Mia pulls away, leaving me still hungry for more. “As much as I’d love to take you in the backseat and blow your—”

  My eyes go wide as I look at her and then the back seat and back to her again.

  “I was gonna say your mind, Dec. Blow your mind.”

  “You had me at blow, babe.”