None of that shit mattered. Mia was the kind of girl you didn’t let slip through your fingers and I wasn’t about to let something like barely being legal stop me from making her mine forever. So as soon as I’d saved up enough funds—and begged Dad to cash in some of my savings bonds from when I was a kid—I went and picked out a ring fit for a princess. Fit for my princess. It was one of my most thrilling days to date. To be able to tell the world—well, the little bubble of our world that surrounded us at college—that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with this one, perfect, incredible girl. Love made us do crazy things, but I was the type that trusted love. I allowed the emotion to make decisions for me and I had not one single regret. Not one!
Regrets. God, the only one that comes to mind is a masseuse named Samantha. What was I even thinking? One stupid night, one stupid mistake and look at the domino effect. My one and only regret caused Mia to make her own as well. Fucking regrets! And now I can’t get Frank Sinatra, singing My Way, out of my head! Regrets—I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention. That damn tune will keep me up all night!
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Mia asks as she fluffs the pillow underneath her head, interrupting Frank’s mental crooning.
Instead of dwelling on it, I try to keep the mood light by jumping into bed next to her. I shimmy under the blanket and curl it around us in a spooning-cocoon. “Let’s see… tomorrow. First we have lots and lots of sex, then we have some more and… oh yeah, I booked the winery tour too. Hey maybe we can have sex in the vineyard!”
Mia giggles, her tone is musical and her head nuzzles into the crook of my arm. “I like the sound of all of that. I can’t wait.”
“Me either. Especially the sex part.”
“What a surprise,” she says with a yawn.
“Uh oh, guess we can’t start the party early, huh?” I ask, my hand already venturing between her legs.
She grabs my wrist, pulling my hand out of her pants. “Dec, it’s like two in the morning. It’s been a long day. A long wonderful day, but I gotta sleep, especially if you want me to be of any use to you tomorrow.”
I swing the blanket off us with over exaggerated effort. “Fine! But tomorrow I will put you to use, woman. Many, many times.”
She lets out another yawn, followed by a room-brightening smile. “Many, many, many. Promise.”
“Night, babe.”
“Night. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
She’s out before I can even count to ten. And I’m up for another hour or two trying to get that fucking song out of my head.
Sleeping in late, up-against-the-wall shower sex, and putting my makeup on without a pint-sized lipstick thief attached to my leg like a leech—I’d say this morning has started off just swimmingly.
I put the finishing touches on my carefree, natural look—if only a man understood the lengths we go to pull off au naturale—and smile at my reflection in the mirror. Tucking an unruly strand of hair behind my ear, Declan creeps up behind me and wraps his arms around my middle.
“Flawless. Perfectly flawless,” he revels.
If only that were true. I’m far from flawless. The makeup hides the subtle imperfections on my face, but I’m not sure there’s anything fit to mask the flaws that mar me deep within. I hush the nagging voices in my head and tell them to take a hike. I want to enjoy this day. I was ordered to do so by the man enveloping me in his warmth. I owe him that much.
“Thank you, babe. You look pretty snazzy yourself. Is this your special wine tasting attire?”
He takes a step back, smoothing out his shirt and flicking up the collar of the bright colored polo. “Yuppie enough for you?”
I laugh, running my hands through his neatly combed hair. “Mess this up a little and you’ve turned from sexy yuppie to sexy preppy.”
“Not sure there’s much of a difference, but whatever you say.” He shakes his head so that his hair falls free of its gelled state.
“You look hot. You know it, so shush. I shouldn’t have to feed your ego after all these years.”
He inches closer to me, cupping my shoulders in his grip and making small circles against my skin with his thumbs. “That’s where you’re wrong. I will always need you to feed my ego and never tire of you telling me how much I turn you on.”
“Ha!” I let out a squeak. “Funny how that’s what you took from that, but… yes, Mr. Murphy, you still make me weak in the knees, even in your yuppie gear.”
In one swift motion he lifts me up and places my rear on the bathroom countertop. “Now, that’s what I like to hear!” he growls, nipping soft bites along my neck.