Time flies when you’re having fun! And for four blissful weeks, I was having fun. Of course, most of the time was spent on my back with my brand spanking new husband right where he was supposed to be, but then I blinked and it was over. One minute I was preparing for the wedding of my dreams, and the next I was standing in the airport terminal hugging Jake goodbye. Those four weeks we’d spent together post-wedding were the happiest of my life, and that was saying something because on a regular basis, I was pretty damn happy.

But then he left, and all I had to keep me warm and comforted were the incredible memories… well, that and bowls of ice cream, a furry creature, and a blue knitted mermaid blanket. In the month and a half that Jake had been gone, I hadn’t accomplished a whole hell of a lot on the personal front… unless you counted the multiple television series I’d binge-watched on Netflix. My productivity at work was another story altogether. I was killing it there, even bringing my work home with me because, in all honesty, I didn’t have anything better to do. Sure, I hung out with friends, and Kenzie had become a staple in my life since Kyle had also taken off on tour with Jake. But girlfriends were no substitute for my hot hunk of a husband.

Every day, I thought of running away and joining the circus – Jake’s circus, that is – but then sensible Casey would pipe up and chastise me for wanting to throw away the opportunity of a lifetime. The opportunity I’m referring to was an entry-level position at a respected public accounting firm in downtown Los Angeles, offered to me soon after my engagement. It couldn’t have come at a better time, as Jake was still recovering from his medical crisis, so work and travel for him had been limited. He spent the break from touring working on a new album while I was learning the ropes in a new job. For months, the two of us enjoyed evenings out after work and lazy weekends just being together. That’s how I wanted my workdays to start and end every day of my life – with me in his arms.

But it was never meant to last. By March, Jake had started a world tour, and I stayed home playing the nerdy numbers detective by day and the bored housewife at night. Even though we were apart for the months leading up to wedding, it hadn’t seemed as bad as now. Maybe it was because I had something to look forward to, and the planning took up all my spare time. But now that the wedding and honeymoon were over, the days apart seemed long and labored, and I was finding it more and more difficult to justify staying in Los Angeles while he was off touring the world.

So I ate more ice cream, watched more television, and went to bed at old people hours. It was in this vulnerable state of mind that I met Lieutenant Dan. I hadn’t been looking for a man to fill Jake’s shoes, but sometimes fate just forced your hand. In my defense, I had been left unsupervised. You certainly couldn’t leave me alone for extended periods of time without risking me doing something stupid – like, say, bringing home a stray tomcat and naming him after my favorite character in Forrest Gump.

I literally stumbled upon Lt. Dan while out on a jog. Running wasn’t my thing, but neither was the little ice cream pouch settling on my lower belly. I needed something more to offset the enormous amount of calories I was scooping into my mouth on a nightly basis, so I supplemented my exercise routine with a light evening jog. And that’s where I found him, dark and mysterious, a man of few words. He was the answer to my lonely prayers. And before I knew it, that surly tomcat had meowed his way into my heart. We could have been something beautiful.

Too bad Lt. Dan turned out to be a grade A feline asshole!

Believe me when I say I wasn’t looking for trouble when Lt. Dan wandered into my life. I’m sure when he first laid eyes on me he was probably thinking I was an easy score – a little extra kibble on the side. He wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment; but too bad for him, I wasn’t a one-night stand type of girl, and the moment I caught sight of that scrawny green-eyed boy, I was on a mission to save his furry little soul. Plucking up my new man, I took him to my nice warm house and fed him a wonderful three-course meal. You would have thought I was an award-winning chef the way Lt. Dan went on and on about the cuisine. If only Jake were that appreciative.

Once I’d filled his tummy full, it seemed silly not to invite him to stay for a nightcap, so we settled in for the evening, watching a little TV, eating a little ice cream, and, because no one was around to judge me, retreating to the bedroom where we snuggled all night. So content was he with his new digs that Lt. Dan hung around all weekend. I could just feel the connection, it was so real – and dare I say, I was falling in love. But come Monday morning, the kitty Casanova couldn’t get away from me fast enough, bolting between my legs and out the door the first chance he got.

I’d met these love ’em and leave ’em types before, so I really wasn’t that surprised when he abandoned me, nor was I expecting to ever see him again. But as it turned out, Lt. Dan’s belly had fond memories of our time together, and he was back a few days later, ready for a fill up. I know. I know. I was totally getting played. But I was lonely enough to welcome him back each and every time. And there were a lot of times.

So went our one-sided relationship. Lt. Dan would disappear for days on end, no doubt sowing his feline oats to a steady stream of furry floozies, only to find his way back to me when he needed a good solid meal and a little heartfelt cuddling. And I, like the needy mistress I was, would wait patiently for his triumphant return.

After a few weeks of this questionable behavior, I’d decided I no longer wanted to share him with other pussycats, so I made a commitment to adopt him and reform his wandering ways. First up, supplies. I bought them all, silently praying Jake wouldn’t come home for a surprise visit to find a four-story cat mansion in his living room. I needed to ease him into this ménage à trois.

Second up was the vet. For being a stray, Lt. Dan was surprisingly healthy. He was given a thorough exam, followed by shots and a microchip embedded in his neck. During the visit, the vet strongly encouraged me to neuter him. I hated to do it, but with his Lothario ways, Lt. Dan really had forced my hand. And so, that’s how my poor tomcat left the pet hospital without his testicles.

Wracked with guilt over my part in his decimated love life, I showered my guy with gifts, and I think he might just have forgiven me when I slipped the black studded collar around his neck. If he couldn’t be a stud in real life, at least he could be wrapped in them. But like the little traitor he was, Lt. Dan hid behind the couch, and when I opened the door one day, he bolted.

Maybe we just weren’t meant to be. I comforted myself by reasoning that you could take a stray off the street, but you couldn’t take the street out of the stray. Bad boys could never be reformed. So the next time he turned up on my doorstep, I had half a mind to send him packing myself until I caught sight of a note tied to his collar… from his actual owners! Apparently my kitty gigolo was actually named Skittles, and he was no promiscuous alley cat – instead he lived in the lap of luxury in a two-story home down the street. And, as you might imagine, the people who lived there were understandably baffled as to what had happened to their cat’s balls.

So that was the end of our unhealthy relationship. Skittles went home to his family, and I went back to my ice cream. It never would have lasted anyway because I needed a feline who put me first… and clearly that was not Lt. Dan.

* * *

Jake returned the last week of October for a scheduled break before the North American leg of his tour kicked off. We fell right back into our comfortable love affair, and having him in my arms again sealed the deal for me. The decision was made. I was quitting my job. Life was too short not to live it to the fullest, and for me, a full life meant being by Jake’s side. I’d found a freelance job and planned to work on the side while touring in order to keep up my skills, but that would be the extent of it. Jake, of course, was ecstatic, and immediately made plans to move my things onto the bus so they’d be waiting for me when I arrived.

As I’d already given my boss two weeks’ notice, the only thing left to do was tell my co-workers. Dragging my feet something fierce, I decided to divulge that information after the Halloween office party. That way my friends could still meet Jake before I was gone. I owed them that much, considering my marriage had been the running joke in the office for an entire year. You see, according to my co-workers, I was but a delusional fan conjuring up a fake relationship with a famous rock star because, well, I was bat-shit crazy. After every office party Jake missed – four in all since I’d begun there – the conviction had only grown stronger.

Finally I had the chance to prove my sanity, but only if he made a showing. I checked my watch again. He was forty minutes late and counting. I could almost hear the cackling come Monday morning. For the love of god, where was he?

Jake’s absence might not have been so noticeable had I not made the ill-conceived decision for us to dress up in a couple’s costume. Jake hadn’t been too keen on the idea, but as always, had caved under pressure. Yet now, in hindsight, it might have been too ambitious for our first Halloween outing as a married couple. Perhaps I should have eased Jake into the whole new world of playing dress up by allowing him something simple and noncommittal to start out with, like a ghost or a whoopee cushion. Either that or I could have stressed the importance of commitment when it came to a couple’s costume. There was just no wiggle room. If you were dressing as a duo, both sides needed to show up. I mean, when was the last time you saw a Fred without his Wilma or a slice of bacon without his eggs? I’ll tell you when: never. Because these things didn’t exist as separate entities, and when one half of such an iconic pairing wanders into a party without the other… well, that’ll just result in prolonged moments of awkward silence.

Currently, I was living in one of those moments, dressed as one side of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’d chosen this costume for two reasons. The first was because of its convenience – it slipped right over the head, thus making it much less likely Jake would balk at the idea of wearing it, and in turn, keep my dream of complete couple cohesion alive and kicking. And the second reason was because, well, it was just frickin’ hilarious. Or at least it would have been had the peanut butter shown up on time. Sadly he had not, so now here I was just a sad slice of toast smeared with a healthy dollop of deep red jelly. It wouldn’t be so bad, I suppose, if my coworkers weren’t mistaking me for a soiled sanitary napkin.

Catching sight of more snickering in the corner, I called Jake again. “Where are you now?”

“Two minutes away from the place I was when you called me last. I’m doing the best I can, Casey. The 10 freeway was shut down, and I’ve been taking side streets ever since. It’s not like I’m enjoying this urban jigsaw puzzle.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just, if you don’t show up soon, I’m going to need to change my pad.”

“What?”

“Never mind, inside joke. Just get here when you can.”

I hung up and checked the time. I should probably wait five minutes before calling him next time. It sounded like he was getting testy, and the last thing I needed was a grumpy guy in a peanut butter costume getting mouthy during my time of the month. Plus, it went without saying: I wanted Jake to make a good impression. Not that it would be too challenging to impress my coworkers. He was famous, so short of acting like a giant douchebag, he’d rock their world. Still, it was important to me that Jake be on top of his game, if only just so I could properly show him off.

Without looking up from the phone screen, I could hear my two giddy coworkers making their way over. I didn’t have to see their faces to know who was coming. I smiled before they even opened their mouths. Nat and Sandra, my best buds. Both worked in the back office with me. Nat was in her forties and was never without a smile on her face. Her hair was streaks of blond down to her shoulders, impeccably curled in big, bouncy twirls. She wore blue-rimmed glasses and colorful tops every day to work. Just seeing her in the mornings made me want to breathe in her fresh air. I was attracted to her like a flower to the sun. Not surprisingly, we hit it off instantly, and by my first afternoon in the office, we’d already planned our weekend outing together, even going so far as to pick the chick flick we’d be enjoying.

Sandra had taken longer to win over: twenty-eight floors, to be exact. Actually, it was more like fifteen, but who was counting? Yes, I was one of those people – the type who made friends in elevators. We’d started out chatting about the weather, which, let’s be honest people, it’s Los Angeles – ninety-five percent of the time the sun was shining. Not much to report there. Then we moved on to the restaurants in the area, both professing our love of Mexican food. By the time we’d reached the twenty-eighth floor, we were just finishing up an enthralling conversation about intelligent life on other planets.

Sandra flicked her fingers in front of my face to jolt my mind back into the present. “When we vote on costumes, my money’s on you. Sure, it’s a little nauseating, but you get extra points for originality.”

“Again, I’m jelly… blackberry jelly.”

“Right. You know, hon, if you took birth control pills, there’d be no need for such bulky protection,” Nat said, joining in the heckling.

Sandra dropped her voice as she carried a devilish grin on her face. “I have a tampon in my purse, if you prefer something more discreet.”

Unable to keep the amusement off my shamed face, I threw what I knew they wanted most, my husband, into their faces. “Sure, keep cackling, ladies, but when my creamy peanut butter shows up, we’ll just see who’s laughing.”

“If he shows up. My money’s still on you Photoshopping yourself into those wedding photos,” Nat said.

“Or,” Sandra added, speaking directly to Nat, “at the very least she should be providing proof in the form of a pair of his signed underwear – but nooo, that’s too much for the little princess here to share with us less fortunate souls.”

“You want proof? Look who’s walking through the door right as we speak!”

Both my coworkers spun around, tongues already dangling from their mouths like overheated dogs, but instead of feasting on my rocker hubby, they got an eyeful of Darrell, our version of Dwight from The Office. He was currently dressed like… well, himself… because there was no time for fun in his dismal world. The only reason he showed up at all was for the free food.

“Yuck, Casey,” Sandra groaned. “I can’t unsee that. Jake’s not coming, is he?”

“If you stick around long enough, maybe. He’s stuck in traffic.”

“Of course he is.” Nat grinned.

My phone rang, and I held my hand up to my friends. Please be him.

“Can you come to the lobby?” Jake asked, the frustration in his voice unmistakable. “They won’t let me up.”

“They won’t let you up? Why?”

“I don’t know, Casey. They just said you had to come down here.”

“Weird. Okay, I’m coming.”

I hurried to the elevator, wondering who would prevent him from coming up. It wasn’t like we had tight security or anything. Hearing a swishing sound, I looked up to find a dinosaur bounding down the hallway. It was one of those blow-up kinds that swayed and bounced as it moved. So randomly ridiculous, I couldn’t help but laugh. The dinosaur stopped directly beside me, apparently never having received the company memo on sexual harassment and personal space. Neither one of us spoke as I focused on the lit up button on the elevator. I could feel him staring at me. Great, I had to get in the elevator with this thing.

“How’s it going, sweet stuff?” T-Rex finally spoke, and damned if he didn’t have just the right amount of prehistoric swagger.

“I’m good. Nice costume.”

He nodded, and his whole body moved with him. I shook my head, but there was no hiding my amusement. Dino took that as his cue to up his game by taking another side step toward me and trying to touch me with those stubby arms of his.

“Okay, let me stop you there, bud,” I said, moving away. “I’m a single species kind of girl.”

T-Rex laughed, and I jerked my head up, recognizing it instantly.

“Jake?”

Dino swamped me like he was in the middle of a mosh pit, those ridiculous stumps for arms everywhere as I squealed and dipped away. Loud kissing sounds accompanied the bobbing head against my neck and I was nearly screaming in laughter when several of my coworkers flooded into the hallway.

One guy looked ready to attack, so I pushed Jake off, still giggling, and said, “It’s okay. We’re married.”

There were all sorts of different reactions coming from my would-be saviors. First and foremost, relief. These were accountants, after all. The last thing any of them wanted was a chance to prove their manhood. Relief, however, was quickly replaced with surprise when those in the hallway realized just who was under the dinosaur costume.

“Sorry about the noise. He just surprised me. We’ll be in soon.”

As the crowd dispersed, I pulled Jake around the corner.

“Let me at them,” he joked, swinging his arms around helplessly.

“I can’t believe you,” I said, zipping him out of the costume. “You weren’t stuck in traffic at all, were you?”

“This is LA – of course I was stuck in traffic, just not for as long as I led you to believe,” Jake said, then stopped to look at my costume.

“What are you, anyway?”

“I’m the jelly to your peanut butter, remember?”

“Oh, Jesus, you look like a homicide victim who totally bled out.”

“I like that better than the other suggestions making the rounds.”

I pulled his peanut butter costume out of my bag and slipped it over his head. Still half in his dinosaur suit, Jake was a hilarious sight. He swiveled his hips in a strip tease move until the rest of the T-Rex fell to the ground.

“You know if you wanted to go as a dinosaur, Jake, you could’ve just asked.”

“Since when do I have to ask my wife’s permission to dress in prehistoric garb? I don’t remember that being in our vows.”

That face. His smirk. I grabbed him and planted a kiss on those delectable lips.

“It was in the fine print,” I said. “You might have missed it.”

“Uh-huh,” he said into the hollows of my open mouth as he kicked the kiss up a notch. Catching sight of the unmistakable fire in his eyes, I wrapped my arm around the back of his neck at the exact moment his tongue dipped between my lips. This was the way he’d been since arriving home a few days ago… randy as all hell. And despite what my costume suggested about my time of the month, I was clearly in heat. It took nothing but a sexy tilt of his head to turn me on; or in this case, a slice of bread slathered in peanut butter. There was just something about the way he wanted me, with such intensity and steam, that turned me into a quivering mess at the flip of a switch.

I tightened my grip on him as our mouths worked in unison. If I hadn’t already quit, this unprofessional bit of hallway PDA would certainly get me fired. Regaining my wits, I placed my hand on his chest and stepped back.

“Behave,” I reprimanded him, but in all honesty, I needed a scolding too. The fact that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other was proof enough that I’d made the right decision to join him on tour. “Let’s go. And, Jake, it goes without saying that you’ll be on top of your game tonight. Remember, we’re going for ‘Wow.’”

And that’s just what he did. When it came to wowing, Jake was a natural. He didn’t have to do much more than open those luscious eyes of his to get the approval of the females, and a little chat about classic 80’s pop bands did the trick for the males. He’d even stolen a math joke off the Internet for the occasion: ‘Dear Math, I’m not a therapist, solve your own problems’ - which really slayed the crowd. We were a room full of accountants, after all.

By the time the party had wound down, Jake and I were arguably the most popular peanut butter and jelly sandwich this side of the San Andreas Fault. We were also the gauge by which the party ended. I’d noticed the phenomenon before at parties. No one ever left before Jake. It must have been a fame thing, like people were afraid of missing something cool. So as we moved toward the exit, so did everyone else.

Waiting for the elevator with Sandra and Nat and her husband, I embraced my friends and shared with them my news. It hadn’t come as a huge shock to them, since we’d talked about the possibility many times, but there were still sad faces to contend with.

“It’s all right, Casey. I get it. I’d do the same thing,” Nat said, encouragingly.

That was followed by Sandra’s stamp of approval. “Hell, I don’t know what took you so long.”

Then Darrell, the office asshole, pushed passed me and smugly tossed in his two cents. “You’ll never work in this town again.”