“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.