Back to You(11)

“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, we’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.