Grace is asleep beside me while I drive home from our first date in…I couldn’t even say how long. Every plan I made for tonight was to remind her of how great we were together at one time and to show her we can be again. I’d say my plan worked by the peaceful expression on her face. She must be tired after a long night of shopping, dinner, dancing, and making out.

That last part plays on a continuous loop in my mind. I want nothing more than to pull over, wake her, and finish what we started on the train. But I won’t do that. She has to get up early to get to the hospital on time then work a long twelve hours. Plus, she has an extra day of work this weekend, so she needs all the rest she can get.

I’ve already decided to give her all the control in our relationship. When she wants to make love to me again—if she ever does—it’ll be on her terms, her time frame, and her call. At the time, I thought an appointment for a checkup was useless. I was leaving her and moving on with someone else. Now, I’m beyond relieved I followed through, regardless of how humiliating asking my doctor for STD testing was at the time.

Whether she believes I was never unprotected or not, at least she knows that’s one less point of this mess she needs to worry about.

I reach over and place my hand on her bare leg, rubbing the supple skin of her thigh. She whimpers lightly in her sleep and slides her leg closer to me. I wonder if she even realizes she’s doing it until her hand slides up my arm in an affectionate motion. Her breathing evens out again, but she keeps the constant contact with me. I choose to take this as another good sign that we’re moving in the right direction.

When we get home, I wrap her coat around her before I lift her from the seat and carry her in my arms. She curls into my chest, barely waking when I move her. With my lips pressed against her temple, I pull her body against mine. I hate to do it, but I have to wake her to unlock the door.

“Grace, sweetheart,” I say softly.

“Hmm,” she objects, and I chuckle.

“I have to put you down for a minute to unlock the door, babe.”

She opens her sleepy eyes and prepares to stand while I finagle the doorknob. Once it’s open, she walks clumsily inside with a mixture of alcohol and fatigue bungling her steps. I wrap my arm around her, acting as her crutch, and she leans into me again. I kiss the top of her head, just to release the strong feelings inside me that threaten to overflow.

She remains guarded with me. I still feel the distance between us. She’s keeping me at arm’s length even after she said she wanted to put the past behind us. Maybe I’m chasing her, begging for her love and affection once again, but I’m okay with that for now. My egregious mistake was my own, but I’ve realized at last what I wanted and needed was the love of my life back. I won’t stop until I have all of her again—heart, body, and mind.

“Are you sleeping with me tonight?” I ask.

“Yes. I’ll change for bed and be right back down.” She raises up on her toes and kisses me, her sweet lips pressed against mine, and I lift her into my arms again.

“Let me help you.”

Inside our bedroom upstairs, I put her down and undress her. She watches me with hooded eyes and ragged breaths. I use every bit of self-control and willpower in my arsenal when I pull her long T-shirt over her head and point her toward the bathroom. While she washes her face and brushes her teeth, I stare longingly at the bed we used to share. She’s not prepared to take that step this early, I get it. I haven’t slept in it with her for a long time now.

When she finishes, I make quick work of my bedtime routine and find her asleep at the foot of the bed.

Waiting for me.

After I have us settled on the couch, she snuggles against me, and I slip into a deep sleep. So deep, I don’t feel her get up for work or hear her moving around the house while she dresses. I don’t even hear her open and close the door when she leaves. When I wake up, I find a note in her vacant spot telling me and Kyle to enjoy our trip and take lots of pictures. She says she wants to hear all about it when we get home.

While I love her thoughtfulness, her sentiments serve to remind me we’ll spend a weekend apart just when we’re beginning to grow closer. I only hope this all-guys’ trip doesn’t backfire on me in the form of a setback in the progress we’ve made. Insecurity rears its ugly head and makes me question if she’ll realize she’s happier without me here…if what I’ve done is too much to overcome…that she doesn’t love me anymore.

I didn’t tell her the news I received from work today when I checked my email for any urgent matters. An announcement was sent out alerting the team of Tammy’s departure from our office. Since I have insider knowledge, I know she lost her job because of her arrest in my front yard. Driving under the influence of drugs or alcohol isn’t tolerated by the company for any reason.

Technically, I can return to the corporate office now to work since Tammy isn’t there, but I don’t want to. After working from home the past month and spending so much time with Grace during her off days, I don’t want to give that up. Even just stealing a few minutes between my conference calls and in-person meetings has made a world of difference in me, in her, and in our relationship. I can sense her apprehension of giving me another chance, but I can also tell she wants our marriage to work as much as I do.

It gives me hope.

Before I lived through this nightmare myself, I believed the adage “once a cheater, always a cheater.” But now, I don’t believe those words at all. I’ve learned my lesson in the worst possible manner, but I am man enough to admit my faults. The thought of losing her cripples me. The possibility of never feeling her love again crushes me. But the opportunity we have to strengthen and make our relationship better than before empowers me.

I’m no longer lost. I’m no longer wandering, looking for what I thought was missing in my life. I’m home, and I’ve realized how vital that connection is. I’m right where I’m meant to be, where I was always meant to be.

Kyle, Wes, and Alan walk in as I’m enjoying the last cup of coffee. “Look what the cat dragged in. I’m surprised I didn’t have to threaten you three to get out of bed this morning.”

“No way, Mr. Hardy. We’ve been so excited to go we hardly slept at all last night. We’re packed and ready to leave whenever you are,” Alan replies.

“We can even leave right this minute because we’ve already put our stuff in the car. That’s how ready we are,” Kyle adds. “And we noticed your bag is already in the car too.”

“And if you decide we need to stay an extra night, we can arrange to make that happen too,” Wes chimes in.

“All right, boys. I get the hint.” I turn and rinse my coffee cup, and my thoughts immediately return to Grace. She’s in everything I do. “Let’s hit the road.”

A weekend away with three hormonal teenage boys. Now I wonder if this was a thoughtful gift from my wife, or a really sneaky revenge plot that also gives her a great laugh at my expense. Either way, Kyle’s excitement can’t be contained, so we’re off to the alpines to snowboard for a couple of days. The boys whoop and holler all the way to the car, and I decide I can put away my responsible hat for the weekend and be one of the guys. Mostly.

After we’re settled into the suite Grace so kindly reserved for us, Kyle and his gang of juvenile miscreants won’t even give me time to call and let her know we’ve arrived safely. Before we leave the room, I send her a quick text with a promise to call her later tonight. Knowing these boys, we’ll be out on the slopes all day and crawling back to the room well after dark without an ounce of energy left.

When we reach the top of the chairlift, none of us can contain our eagerness. The sun is bright, and the powder is perfect. One run after another, we glide downhill, switching up the trails from challenging to easy and fun, then back again. Through the wipeouts and the Olympic-worthy runs, Kyle and I reconnect in a way we never have before. Not as father and son, but as friends with a bond that’s unbreakable.

This day never would’ve happened without Grace. The immense gratitude I feel toward her leaves me speechless. She didn’t have to do any of this—giving me another chance, pushing me to be the father our son deserves, making me want to be the husband I always should’ve been. Through every good day and bad day and mistake and stroke of luck, she has been my saving grace. Even when I was too stupid to realize it. Even when I didn’t deserve her.

After spending a full day on the slopes and half the evening at the restaurant, we finally make it back to the room. The boys head for the second bedroom to play video games while I crash in the master bedroom, ready to talk to my wife. Alone. I close the bedroom door and settle onto the bed. I call her cell phone.

No answer.

I try FaceTime.

No answer.

I call the house phone, glad she never listened to me when I insisted we needed to cancel the landline to save money.

No answer.

I scrape my hand down my face as I sit up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. Part of me wants to drive straight home and check on her. It’s not like her to let calls go unanswered, especially knowing we’ve been on the slopes and someone could’ve been hurt. For a moment, I briefly consider calling our next-door neighbor and having her check on Grace for me, just in case something is wrong. Then I glance at the time and realize she’s probably already asleep after working a long day then going back early tomorrow morning to do it all over again.

Day two on the slopes is pretty much a repeat of day one—all the fun, making our relationship even more sound, and being goofy with the guys. But I do take a midday break to rest my tired muscles, unwilling to admit I find it harder to keep up with the young whippersnappers than I thought it would be. Not talking to Grace for two days is messing with my head, so I call the hospital on the off chance she’s due for a break.

“ICU. How can I help you?” the nurse answers.

“Hi, is there any way I can I speak to Grace Hardy?”

“Grace? I don’t see her in the unit right now.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll just try her at home later.”

I’m disappointed but not surprised. Grace never takes her cell phone into the unit with her. She says she’s too busy to check it anyway, and we know to call the direct unit number in the event of an emergency. If I could get away with claiming this is an emergency, I would do it in a heartbeat. But since her coworker doesn’t see her in the unit, that means she’s probably in one of the rooms with a patient, and she’d be pissed if I interrupted her when there wasn’t a real emergency.

Later at dinner, Kyle surprises me.

“Have you talked to Mom? I haven’t heard from her at all. That’s not like her—I usually have at least a text from her telling me she loves me and to be careful.”

I tamp down the panic rising in my chest. Grace hasn’t even contacted Kyle. That’s completely out of character for her.

“No, I haven’t. I tried to call a couple of times, but she hasn’t answered.

He tries to disguise it, but I know Kyle is worried. “I sent her a text before we ordered, and she still hasn’t answered me. She could be just really busy at work and tired when she gets home. I don’t know. Maybe we should head back in the morning, just in case.”

My seventeen-year-old son proposing to give up an entire day on the slopes to go home early and check on his mom fills me with trepidation. Like a bad omen or a black cloud hanging over us, we both feel something is off. Something is wrong.

When she doesn’t answer my calls at eight o’clock, then nine o’clock, then ten o’clock, I march into the boys’ game cave and tell them to pack. I can’t wait any longer to get home and check on my wife. Wes and Alan pile into the back seat, and Kyle sits in the front with me.

“You’re worried,” he says.

“I am.” I glance over my shoulder at him. “So are you.”

He nods. “Yep. We talk every day. She’s always made it a point to make me tell her about my day, no matter how shitty hers was. She always wants to know all about it.”

“She loves you.” I can’t even tell him I never realized she had that ritual with him. She found a way to connect with him during a time when most kids his age start to pull away from their parents. She and I should’ve been doing that together all along. Our little family would’ve been so much stronger had I had my head screwed on straight.

“She loves you too, Dad.”

I hope my son is correct. I hope my wife still loves me.

It’s after two o’clock in the morning by the time we get back into our sleepy little neighborhood and drop Wes and Alan off at their houses. I’m in such a hurry, I tell them they can get their bags tomorrow. I have to get home to her. Now.

When I turn into the driveway, the first thing I notice is her car is in the driveway. All the lights in the house are off—even the light in the den we usually leave on all the time. Kyle and I rush to the door and find the inside of the house is eerily quiet. Too quiet for my comfort level. She’s not on the couch, so I bound up the stairs and rush into the bedroom.

The room is pitch-black with the curtains drawn, so I flip on the light switch. The covers on the bed are crumpled and messy, and one side is bunched up more than the other, not the way she normally leaves it. I stomp across the room, panic settled in my chest. Her car is here, but she’s not.

Is she off somewhere with another man?

Insane jealousy overtakes my rational mind and visions of her in another man’s arms, in his bed, doing the things that only I should do with her take up residence in my thoughts. When I turn on my heel, stalking back toward the door to hunt the motherfucker down and relieve him of his swinging dick, I stop dead in my tracks.

Those aren’t bunched-up covers…that’s Grace, covered from head to toe under the comforter and completely oblivious to our presence. Even with the overhead light on.

I rush to the side of the bed and gently shake her shoulder. Kyle hurries over, as surprised as I am that she’s been here this whole time, and calls her name. She barely stirs.

“Grace, talk to me, or I’m calling an ambulance,” I order. Fear and panic claw at me, but I hold those feelings at bay until I can calm down and assess the situation.

She fights to open her eyes for a split second, then they clamp shut again. “Blake?” she asks, her voice groggy and thick with sleep.

“Yeah, babe. We’re home. What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” I push the comforter off her head to let the light in and hopefully wake her up more.

“I’m okay. Just really tired.” Her words are slightly slurred. Has she been drinking? Who has she been out with? And where?

“Mom, I’m worried about you. Do we need to take you to the ER?”

She shakes her head. “No, baby. I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep.”

Kyle cuts his eyes up to me with a dubious expression covering his face. “I’ll stay in here with her and make sure she’s okay. You go get some rest yourself, and we’ll see how she feels in the morning.”

“Okay. Wake me if anything changes.”

Kyle leaves us alone, and I crawl onto the bed behind Grace but lie on top of the covers because I’m still not sure she wants me in here, in our bed. Shoving aside thoughts of jealousy and fear of her possible infidelity, I wrap my arms around her so I can feel her breathe because my concern for her well-being overrides my mistrust. But I don’t get a single wink of sleep the rest of the night.

I have so many unanswered questions.

So many suspicions.

So many doubts.

And a broken heart with a hefty dose of poetic justice.