Back to You(5)

“Put me down. I want to wait by the window,” she requests, squirming out of my hold.

“Sure thing, Miss.” I place her back on her feet and tap her bottom, sending her off. “I’ll be right up, ‘kay, sweets?”

She nods, her blond curls bouncing in the breeze she creates as she disappears up the stairs.

With my hands on my hips I admire my handiwork. Okay, not my handiwork, but it was still my idea. I peruse the room, taking it all in. The project was completed right on schedule as promised by John, so that gave me enough time to give it a few Declan-inspired finishing touches. I knew the space wouldn’t be complete without the essentials: his two favorite guitars, the glass fish bowl full of picks he’s collected over the years, framed lyrics from the songs Declan’s performed for me onstage and off, and a picture of us from the night he proposed at The Alibi. But my favorite purchase is the ream of blank sheet music paper. One day those pages will be filled with words and chords and notes all created by my talented man. I just know he’s going to love this gift. And it’s the gift that keeps on giving because there is nothing I love more than hearing Declan sing and play—my weakness is that man’s voice. Thinking about it sends tingles over my skin and want pooling between my thighs. God, I can’t wait for him to get home.

And right on cue: “Mommy! He’s here!” Cara’s shriek breaks me from my daydream.

“Shit! He’s early.” I give the room another once over before rushing to turn off the light and head upstairs to greet my husband.





Hong fucking Kong. Hong fucking Kong. That place is a thorn in my goddamn side. I wracked my brain the whole flight back, tossed and turned while I should have been catching up on missed sleep, but I still can’t make this decision without Mia. So on the cab ride home, I dial Robert to ask for more time.

“Yello?” he answers after three rings.

“Hey, Robert, it’s Declan.”

“Was there a problem with the connecting flight? Is everything okay?” Robert left for home the day he dropped the Hong-Kong-bomb on me so he has no way of knowing where I am at the moment.

“No, the flight was fine. I’m actually on my way home from the airport right now.”

“Oh, okay. Well then, what’s up? Have you made a decision about the offer?”

“That’s just it, Robert. I need a little more time. Mia and I are off to Newport in a few days—it’s our anniversary. I wanted to wait to talk to her about it. Is that okay?”

There’s a long, pregnant pause and an exaggerated huff. I’ve been working for Robert long enough—he’s a good guy, a friend, but maybe I was presumptuous in thinking I could do this on my terms. He clears his throat and answers, “If that’s what you need, that’s fine. But I’m asking you to really think about this. I know you’ve had your eye on partner for a while now. I’m not trying to sway you, but sometimes we have to sacrifice other things to reach the ultimate goal.”

Yeah, I totally get that, but am I willing to sacrifice my wife and kids for a title at a job that I only half love? My career is important and my salary allots for everything we need and more, but my family… I can’t put a price tag on any of this. “Point taken, Robert. I will take it all into consideration. Thanks for everything.”

“No problem, Murphy. Enjoy your vacation.”

We hang up and I feel no less confused than I was when I called in the first place. At least I have more time, though. I don’t plan on walking through the door and breaking this shit to her after being gone for a week. I’d like to think we’re finally back on solid ground, but even the tiniest mishap could put a crack in our newly built foundation.

I lean back and rest my head against the dingy taxi seat. Staring up at the cigarette holes and rust rings on the roof of the upholstery, my mind wanders to a dark time—a time when I thought I’d never get her back. It was right after the month-long trip to—that goddamn place. It was right after she left me that fucking voicemail! A Dear-John-style voicemail that rocked my fucking world. And as much as it killed me, I allowed her to go through with it—I let her walk away hoping she’d find her way back to me even if it meant almost losing her to another man… almost losing her for good. I replay it all in my head, my heart aching all over again. How I ever survived those months, I have no goddamn clue, but I did, we did and now—

Shit! What the fuck?

A cacophony of unrelenting horns interrupts my thoughts. The car comes to a screeching halt and almost slams into the one in front of it. My body jerks forward, my face collides with the driver’s seat, and my mind is knocked out of my trance-from-the-past. “Whoa. What the fuck, buddy?”