Passion, Vows & Babies: Seven Year Itch (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Sarah Curtis (1)

 

Is The Seven Year Itch About To Scratch Out Your Relationship?

Everyone's heard of the seven-year itch.  The dreaded stage in a relationship where couples can grow antsy and lose interest.  Experts are unsure the cause of this phenomenon.  Is it because a couple has spent so much time together the relationship is no longer exciting?  Or is it because humans go through a growth cycle every seven years and change is inevitable?

Whatever the cause, for some couples the struggle is real.  We at Ardor Magazine decided to hit up a panel of experts, and they gave a list of things to watch out for—the telltale signs your significant other may be cheating.

He takes or makes phone calls in private.

You notice an increase in his work hours or his time spent away from home.

Returns your calls long after you leave a message.

Comes home smelling of an unfamiliar fragrance.

Behavior that doesn't add up.

Your fears and suspicions.

But remember, these experts also caution not to accuse, but to observe.  Accusing a partner who is innocent may do lasting damage to an otherwise healthy relationship.  Be patient, observant, and note behavioral patterns.  Eventually, the cheater will out themselves.

 

The smell of roast beef and mustard permeated the air as Ali juggled the large take-out bag while trying to open the heavy, glass door.  It was whisked open for her from the other side, and she was greeted by a smiling Lucas St. James.

"Ali!  What are you doing here?"

Lucas was tall, even taller than her husband who was an inch over six feet, so she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes as he stepped in close, taking the bag from her.

"I came to surprise Garrett with lunch.  I know he's been working long hours lately and thought I could persuade him to take a break."

Lucas's smile dimmed.  Not a lot, but enough that she'd noticed.  "Garrett's not here."

"He's not?" Ali asked, confused.  Garrett hadn't said anything to her this morning about leaving the office.

Lucas and her husband had been friends for many years, growing up in the same neighborhood, and Ali had met them both when they'd all attended university together.  When Lucas had needed the CEO position in his company filled, Garrett had been the first person he'd called.

They moved farther into the lobby, out of the traffic of people leaving for lunch.  "No, um..."  He ran a hand through his thick, dark-brown hair.  "He had a meeting out of the office.  I'm not sure when he'll be back."  He was having trouble meeting her eyes, and Ali could tell the conversation was making him uncomfortable.

And that made Ali more than uncomfortable because Garrett's unmentioned absence from the office was just another log added to a fire that was starting to burn out of control.

The last couple of weeks, Garrett had seemed distant, working late nights, taking calls out of the room, and his phone had been beeping like crazy with incoming texts.  Ali knew his new job was demanding, and she probably wouldn't have thought much of it had it not been for the damn article she'd read in Ardor magazine.  It had drawn her attention to every one of Garrett's suspicious behaviors that pointed to the possibility he was having an affair.

Adding to her mistrust, the article had been entitled, "The Seven Year Itch" and she and Garrett had been married exactly seven years.  Coincidence?  Maybe, or maybe not, but once the seed had been planted, it had taken root.

Suspicion was an evil thing, festering in the brain, and corrupting like a virus that had no cure.

In all the time they'd been together, Garrett had never given her reason to doubt his devotion to her, until recently.

And now she was left wondering.

"Well, um, I'll just go then."  She waved at the bag.  "I'm sure you can find someone who will eat that.  It's sandwiches from the deli across the street.  Roast beef and turkey.  Oh, and those great pickles they've got over there."

She knew she was rambling, backing up as she talked, trying to make her escape.  She turned on her heel and fled before Lucas could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

≈≈≈≈

Ali was in the kitchen, making dinner when shouts of, "Daddy," from the living room alerted her to Garrett's arrival home.  Her shoulders stiffened, and she slammed the oven.  Having time to stew, her initial upset had morphed into anger.

She was pissed.

He'd never called her back.

After fleeing Garrett's office, she'd tried to call him, but it had gone straight to voicemail, adding another check mark in the "fishy" column of her mental list.  She hadn't bothered leaving a message—what could she say?  Hi, honey, I was at your office and you weren't there.  Where the heck are you?  He would've seen she'd tried to call, and the thought he hadn't bothered to ring her back cut deep.

She felt his presence before she saw him.  After all these years, she was aware when he walked into a room, whether she could see him or not.  Her spine—following suit with her shoulders—became rigid and her movements jerky.  She smashed the lid down on the pot of mashed potatoes she'd been stirring then aggressively flicked the knob on the stove to turn off the flame.

Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, and his face nuzzled her neck, his lips nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.  She shuddered and tried to step out of his hold, but she was pinned against the stove.

"How was your day?" he mumbled against her skin.

His hands came up to cup her breasts, and that's where she drew the line.  Trapped or not, she was breaking free.  She was so not in the mood.

In a complicated move, she ducked, sidestepped, and twisted until she was free from his grip.  She marched to the refrigerator, throwing it open.

"That good, huh?" he asked, voice laced with laughter.

She threw him a look over her shoulder.  He stood, butt leaning against the counter.  He'd removed his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and had loosened his tie.

Reaching for the butter, she said, "My day was fine.  How was yours?"  She grabbed a clean spoon, using her hip to slam the drawer shut with more force than necessary.

"I have a feeling your definition of fine might be a tad different from mine."

"If you think it means showing up at your husband's work to surprise him with lunch only to find he's not there and when you tried to call him, his phone went to voicemail, and he never returned your call, and now you're pissed as fuck?  Then yeah, it means the same thing."  She banged the spoon against the rim of the pot to dislodge the glob of butter before tossing it in the sink and stirring the potatoes with the wooden spoon.

He gave her his signature sexy smirk.  "Yeah, I had a feeling our definitions had two different meanings."

She returned his smirk with a dirty look.  "Don't try to be cute.  It won't work."

"Do I even need to try?"

Ali gave him the look.  The one reserved for when she was irritated with either him or the kids.  He got the memo because his smirk faded, replaced with a look of remorse.

He moved behind her, his arms coming back around her middle.  "I'm sorry.  My phone died, and I didn't charge it until I was in the car on the way home."

"And you didn't tell me you would be out of the office all afternoon because..."  She hated that her voice sounded hurt and whiny.

Garrett placed his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled his nose behind her ear.  She felt herself succumbing, but just a little.  "Janet was out sick today, so I had to run out and pick up the Johnson contract.  Sam Johnson was in the office and invited me to lunch.  I couldn't say no.  The lunch turned into an unplanned meeting and before I knew it, hours had passed.  The good news is, he signed the contract."

Ali melted against him.  She was a sucker for the spot right behind her ear, and her sneaky husband knew that.  Trying to stay strong, she said, "I'm still mad at you," but her words didn't carry the same heat as they had a few minutes before.

"Which is why I stopped on the way home and picked you up a present."

That got her attention.  "What?" she asked still sounding skeptical.

"Nope.  You have to give me a proper kiss first."

"What if your present isn't good enough to make up for what you did today?  I'm not kissing you until I see it."

His warm breath tickled her ear as he sighed.  "Fine.  It's in the front pocket of my pants."

Ali couldn't hold back a snort.  "No way, mister.  You're not getting a free grope out of it, either."

"Hey, a man's gotta try."

She felt him reach into his pocket and a king-sized Kit Kat bar materialized in front of her.  "Pretty good on the bribe scale, but I still don't think it makes up for not calling me back."

"Which is why I also got you this."  She felt his other hand fiddle in his pocket, and he produced her favorite flavor of lip gloss.

That he'd gone through the trouble of stopping at the store to buy her favorite things went a long way in soothing her anger.

She twirled in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck.  "Okay, you're forgiven.  But note, you're only just removed from my shit-list and can go back on with any misstep."

"So noted."

His lips found hers, and she pressed herself to him as he deepened the kiss.  Events of the past few weeks flew from her mind as he skillfully and determinedly turned her on, making her wish dinner was over and the kids weren't still up.

She moaned when his hand found her ass and squeezed.  "No fair," she mumbled against his lips.

He pressed his hard-on into her stomach.  "Talk about unfair.  You know these tight pants you wear drive me insane."

"Leggings."

"Hmm?" he asked, halfheartedly as his lips found her neck again.

"They're called leggings," she replied just as distracted.

"They should be called lethal."

That made her laugh, and the arrival of Noah and Emma, hungry for dinner, broke them apart.  "I'd better get dinner finished."

"Then I expect you to finish me later."  Garrett winked before turning.  Then scooping a kid under each arm, carried them squealing from the kitchen.

≈≈≈≈

Three hours later, it was Ali who was squealing—into her pillow—as her husband pleasured her with his mouth.  His lips, tongue, and teeth went on an exploration, and she discovered the Holy Land.

And then his damn phone dinged with an incoming text.

Garrett didn't seem to notice.  He was too engrossed with her breasts.  Her nipples to be specific.  Licking and sucking.  Tugging the hard peaks into his mouth and twirling them with his tongue.

"I want you to come again," he said, sliding his fingers through her folds, finding her clit and circling it with a finger.

She wanted to come again, too.  But now her mind was on his damn phone and who could be texting him at almost ten o'clock on a Wednesday night.  But Garrett knew her body well—the crease where her leg met her pussy was especially erogenous—and he had her on the brink again in no time.

He slid in, and she sighed as he filled her.  Wrapping her legs around his thighs, she pulled him closer.  Her hands gripped his shoulders, her short nails biting into his flesh as he pounded into her hard and fast.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he said, rotating his hips and hitting the spot that did it for her every time.

"That's okay, so am I," she panted, pushing her lower half up to meet his, chasing the orgasm that was right within reach.  "Harder.  Just a little harder."

"Fuck, babe, you're killing me.  I'm about to explode."

And then she found it.  Wave after wave of sensation rippled through her, ending in a whole body shiver.

Garrett collapsed on top of her, catching most of his weight with his arms.  His lips found her neck, the underneath part of her chin, then finally her lips, his tongue sliding in effortlessly to mate with hers.

He pulled out of her carefully, kissing the tip of her nose, then rolled them to their sides, spooning her from behind.

"I need to go clean up."  But she didn't make a move to get up, content right where she was.

Garrett must've been comfortable, too because he grunted, "Just let me hold you a bit longer."

As she lay in his embrace, enjoying the heat of his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand nestled in her cleavage and the weight of his leg covering hers, his phone beeped again.

Garrett grunted, rolling away.  "Sorry, babe, I should've turned the damn thing off before coming to bed."

Ali rolled with him, trying to discreetly peek at the screen, but all she saw was a flash of light before the screen went dark as he powered it off.

He flopped down on his back, holding an arm out wide.  "Come here."

Snuggled against him, her head on his chest, she knew the moment he'd drifted off to sleep from the sound of his even, heavy breaths.  Mind racing, it took her a lot longer to find it.

≈≈≈≈

"Mom, I can't find my other sneaker!"  Noah yelled from somewhere in the house.

Ali sighed.  She was not a morning person, and they were always the worst.  Chaotic and disorganized.  However well prepared she tried to be the night before, something unexpected always seemed to pop up.

"Did you check under your bed?" she yelled back from the kitchen as she poured milk over the kids' cereal.

"It wasn't there!"

"Where did you take your shoes off at?"  She placed the bowls on the table and helped Emma into her booster seat.

"I don't remember!"

Ali sighed under her breath before shouting, "Come eat breakfast, I'll find your shoe!"

Less than a minute later, her son came rolling into the kitchen.  Surprisingly, for a six-year-old, he wasn't a morning person, either.  And that was the only thing he and Ali had in common.  The rest was all his father.  Noah's hair was a bit blonder at such a young age, but Ali knew it would darken to the shade of Garrett's as he grew older.  They even had the same cowlick in the back, though Noah didn't bother to tame it like his father did.

"Come sit down and eat your cereal."   Ali moved to exit the kitchen.  "And watch your sister," she threw over her shoulder before making her way to the living room.

A quick scan of the floor—double-checking since Noah's searching skills were nonexistent—didn't reveal a missing shoe.  She got down on her hands and knees in front of the sofa.  Under it was usually a safe bet.  She discovered three crayons, a Barbie's head, and a petrified French fry, but no tennis shoe.

"Well, good morning to me," her husband's voice came from behind her.

She picked her head up from the floor, looked over her shoulder, and grinned.

"A sight I'll never grow tired of."

She snorted.  "My ass in the air?"

He closed his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.  "Yeah."

"I don't even want to know what you're envisioning."  She stood, throwing her newfound collection on the coffee table to clean up later before dusting off her knees.

He opened his eyes, his smirk turning into a smile.  "Think back three nights ago."

It was now her turn to smirk.  She remembered.  And even had a few bruises left from his hold on her hips as he slammed into her from behind.

She took the few steps to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  "You know, I bet if I ask real nicely, Mia would watch Emma for me again today, and I can stop by your office for that surprise lunch I had planned yesterday.  I might even put myself on the menu.  I bet we can find an interesting use for your really big desk."

Brushing his lips on hers, he murmured, "As tempting as that sounds, I'm going to be swamped today."

A stab of disappointment poked her in the chest, and she gave him a weak smile.  "I understand."

But she couldn't help but wonder whether that would have been his answer a few years ago or would he have made the effort to rearrange his schedule for her.

≈≈≈≈

"Everything keeps adding up, and sadly, one plus one seems to equal three."  Ali leaned her elbows on the kitchen island and buried her face in her hands.  She had her butt plopped on the bar stool in her friend's kitchen, and like a true friend, Mia had listened while Ali bitched, moaned, and complained for the past hour.

She was finally unloading her suspicions onto her best friend's shoulders.

Ali had met Mia five years ago at a Mommy and Me class they'd both attended.  Sarcastic, fun, and loyal to a fault, Ali had latched onto her instantly, and they'd been best friends since.

But now her fun-loving attitude was missing and in its place was serious contemplation.  She shook her head, and the beads at the ends of her braids clacked together, creating a pretty melody.  The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window brought a glow to her creamy-mocha skin.  "I don't know, Ali, I just don't see Garrett doing something like that."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on your side, always, but in this case, I think you've got it wrong, and as your friend, I'm just pointing that out."

"Come on, you've got to admit it all sounds suspicious.  And according to the article in Ardor—"

Mia cut her off.  "Are you really going to take that load of crap as gospel?"

"Well... no," Ali said, feeling a little embarrassed.

Mia didn't let her off the hook.  "You are!"  She snorted.  "It's a bunch of garbage, Ali."

"It made some valid points," she kept defending, feeling silly she'd brought it up in the first place.  "What would you do if you suspected Mark was cheating on you?"

Heat entered her eyes, and a twisted smile warped her lips.  "I'd castrate him."

Ali laughed.  "There's the Mia I know and love."  Then after a beat of silence, she confessed, "I'm thinking of looking through his phone.  If he's hiding something, it'll be in there."

Mia's expression turned serious again and her brow furrowed.  "Do you really think that's such a good idea?"

"Absolutely.  At the very least, I'll find out who's texting him all the time."

"Just don't go making a mountain out of a molehill.  Promise you'll talk to me before you act on anything."

Ali nodded.  "I will."  She looked at the time, took the last swig of her coffee, then stood from the stool.  "I've got to get Noah.  Thanks again for watching Emma for me yesterday even if it was a bust."

"You know I don't mind.  It's actually less work for me when she's here.  She keeps Callie company and saves me from having to play Barbie."

Ali giggled, scooping her three-year-old off the floor and placing her on her hip.  "Still, I owe you one.  Maybe you and Mark can have a date night soon.  God knows, my calendar is wide open."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know what you find out," Mia said, picking up her now complaining two-year-old and mimicking Ali by placing Callie on her hip.  The little girl instantly stopped whining and had a big smile on her face, proud she'd gotten her way.

"I will."  Ali gave her a wave as she let herself out of the house.

≈≈≈≈

Ali lay awake, waiting for the sound of deep breathing, signaling Garrett was asleep.  Then waited longer, working up courage and debating with herself whether she really wanted to do what she was planning to do.

She had a moment of doubt—ashamed of herself for not trusting her husband and thinking to invade his privacy.  But if Garrett wasn't hiding anything, it shouldn't matter whether she looked through his phone.  And he shouldn't care.

Then why sneak around?  Why not just ask to look at it?

Because if he were hiding something, that would put them both in an awkward spot if he didn't want to hand it over.  She would then have to confront him about everything when she wasn't ready to do that yet.  Not until she had more solid facts.

Sick of arguing with herself, she slowly slid from her husband's embrace.  He made a noise and rolled over.  She stilled, waiting to see if she'd woken him, but his breathing remained deep and even.  For the first time since they started sleeping together, she wished her husband snored.  She scooted the rest of the way from the bed, being careful not to jiggle it too much.

Moving silently around to Garrett's side, she made sure he was still fast asleep before nabbing his phone from the nightstand.

Dashing on her tiptoes, she made a beeline for the bathroom, soundlessly closing the door and making sure to lock it before turning on the light.

She needed to pee and decided to get that out of the way before she started snooping.

Snooping.  Such a dirty, dirty word.

She looked at the phone, lying on the bathroom counter while doing her business, telling herself it wasn't too late to change her mind.  But curiosity got the best of her, and though her stomach was in knots of apprehension, she still picked the damn thing up and pressed the wake button.

She punched in the password on the lock screen but nothing happened.  Thinking she mistyped, she tried again with the same results.

Did he change his password?

Why would he change his password?

The only answer that made sense was he was hiding something.  Her already knotted stomach dipped, and her breathing became shallow as she fought tears and nausea.

She typed in other password possibilities she thought Garrett might use, but came up with a fat goose egg.  None of his usual codes seemed to work.

Think.

So focused on the phone while trying a few more possibilities, the sharp rap on the bathroom door startled her.  Her whole body jerked, and the phone flew from her hand.  She watched—as if in slow motion—as it sailed in an arc, landing with a small splash right into the toilet.

A toilet she'd never flushed.

Her eyes went wide, and a horrified gasp escaped her throat as the implications of what had just happened sunk in, and she lunged for the toilet, gingerly fishing the phone out with two fingers.

"Babe?  You've been in there a while.  Everything okay?"  Garrett's voice came through the door sounding gruff and sleepy.

Oh, God.  She looked down at the dripping phone then over at the door.  "Um... Yeah, I'm just not feeling well.  I think something I ate didn't settle."

"Can I get you anything?"

She heard him try the doorknob, relieved she remembered to lock it.  "Um... Do you mind getting me some Imodium?  It's in the kitchen."

"Sure.  I'll be right back."

"Take your time," she whispered under her breath.

She rinsed the phone under the faucet—knowing more water wasn't the best idea but... gross—then quickly disassembled it, wiping everything down with a towel.  After putting it back together, she tried powering it back on.

Nothing happened.  Black screen.

Shit.

She wasn't sure what to do, but she did know she needed to sneak the phone back before Garrett returned with the medicine.  She knew it would take him some time to find—he had the same "searching" skills as his son—but she also knew he wouldn't return without it.

Cautiously opening the door, she poked her head out.  Seeing the room empty, she raced to the nightstand and put the phone back exactly as she'd found it.

She was just crawling back into bed when Garrett returned.  "I couldn't find the Imodium, but I brought you some Pepto-Bismol."

She took the offered bottle.  "Thanks but I'm feeling better.  Whatever it was must have passed."

Garrett climbed in beside her, touching a hand to her forehead before leaning in to give it a kiss.  "You don't feel warm."

Ali brushed his lips with hers.  "I'm fine.  Let's try to get back to sleep.  I'm sorry I woke you."

He gathered her back in his arms, but she lay awake, her mind racing.  She was so conflicted.  When he was with her, it didn't seem as if he were having an affair.  Their sex life was still great, and he was as attentive as always.  But why the changed password, late nights, and secretive phone calls?

She decided she definitely needed more to go on before she confronted him.  She didn't want to accuse him of something that may be false and have him think she didn't trust him.  Which was really hypocritical of her if she thought about it too closely.  She sighed into her pillow.  She was turning into a horrible, untrusting wife, and she hated herself for that.

But only if it weren't true.

≈≈≈≈

After rushing through her morning routine—the story of her life—Ali was about to step out the bedroom door when she heard Garrett say, "Babe, before you run off," he held out his cell, "this damn thing is broken.  Do you think you can stop by the phone store and pick up a new one?"

She inwardly cringed, waiting for him to elaborate, telling her he'd found it sitting on the nightstand in a puddle of water.  But when all he did was stare at her expectantly, she took it from his hand.  "Sure.  No problem."

Grasping her nape, he leaned down and gave her a kiss.  "Thanks, babe."  He took a step back.  "I'll be working late tonight, so go ahead and eat dinner without me."

And once again the red flags started to wave.  "Why?"  Her voice was soft and low but still held an edge.

If her husband noticed, he ignored it.  "Sam Johnson, the guy I had lunch with the other day," he paused and waited for her to acknowledge she remembered who he was talking about.  "We need to tie up loose ends, and he was only available tonight."

"You said he signed the contract that night?"  The red flags in her head were not only waving but were now being twirled by a color guard followed by a full-piece marching band.

"He did, but there were a few amendments he wanted us to make, and we need to go over them before it becomes official."

If he were lying, he was the best liar in the world and could've been fooling her their whole marriage and she wouldn't have known it.  She nodded, choosing to believe him.  The alternative was unacceptable.  "Okay, but call me if you're going to be too late.  You know I worry."

He gave her another quick kiss.  "Babe, I don't have a phone."

Oh, yeah.

≈≈≈≈

"I'm at the phone store," Ali reported to Mia, her phone to her ear as she waited in line for her turn.  On her hip, a squirming Emma was getting restless and heavy.

"That doesn't sound good.  I take it things didn't go according to plan last night."

Looking down at her feet and speaking low, Ali told her the whole embarrassing story.

There was a moment of silence before a burst of laughter filled her ear.  "You've got to be fuckin' kidding me."

"I wish I were."  She bounced Emma higher on her hip.  "Don't overlook the fact he changed his password."

"Oh, believe me, I didn't."

"So what does that mean?"

Mia sighed.  "I don't know.  But it doesn't mean he's hiding something from you."

"Who else would he be hiding it from?"  She'd said the last pretty loud, and the guy in front of her turned his head to look at her.  Ali gave him a small smile and lowered her voice when she continued, "It's not like there's anyone else in the house that would care what's on his phone."

"Maybe it's someone at work?"

Ali snorted in disbelief.  "Why would anyone at his work want to snoop through his phone?"

"Who the hell knows, but it's a possibility.  One that shouldn't be overlooked."

"Yeah, okay," Ali sighed, not sounding the least bit convinced.

"So the phone idea was a bust.  What's the next plan?"

"I don't know."  Arm breaking, Ali set Emma on her feet but held her hand, so she wouldn't wander off.  Through the glass window of the phone store, her eyes landed on a spy shop across the way.  "I guess I could bug him," she said half in jest.

"I don't see how pestering him to death will give you any useful answers."

"Not that kind of bug, you know like a listening device."

"Jeez, Ali, this isn't Mission Impossible or a James Bond movie."

"We could totally pull off being Bond girls."

"Maybe you could, but I don't think I can run in heels."

Ali laughed.  "We'll work on that next week."  She looked up and saw she was next in line.  "I've got to go.  I'll call you later."

"Don't forget yoga at ten on Sunday."

Shit, she had forgotten, just as she'd forgotten last week.  She couldn't ditch her friend two weeks in a row.  "I'll be there."

"Be there or be square."

Ali was still laughing even after she clicked off the phone.

≈≈≈≈

The rest of her day flew by—grocery store, getting Noah from school, homework, feeding the kids dinner, baths, and then putting them to bed—so she hadn't had time to ponder much on Garrett's questionable actions.  But once eight o'clock rolled around, with the house quiet, her husband still not home, and nothing pressing to do, her mind drifted, dwelling on what he was doing at that exact moment.  Unfortunately for him, she had a very active imagination.  Also, unfortunate for him, her imagination wasn't portraying him in a favorable light.

Innocent until proven guilty.  She must remember that.

She heard the garage door leading into the house slam and stood from the couch as Garrett walked into the living room.  "How was your night?"

He blew out a tired sigh.  "Long."

His suit jacket was off, and he carried it slung over his shoulder by a hooked finger.  His tie was askew, and his hair was a bit mussed.  And was that... lipstick on his jaw?

Garrett tossed his jacket on the couch and took a long stride toward her.  She took a hasty step back, wrinkling her nose.  "You smell like a whorehouse."

Her idiot husband had the audacity to laugh.  "What?"

"You smell like cheap perfume," Ali clarified, folding her arms across her chest.  She put on a brave face, showing anger, when what she really wanted to do was cry.  A lump filled the back of her throat, and she forcefully swallowed it down.

His brow furrowed.  "Are you upset about something?"

Ali let out a humorless laugh.  In the back of her mind, she remembered the magazine article had cautioned against being confrontational, but she was too upset to take heed.  "Are you kidding me right now?"  She held up her pointer, counting off items.  "You've been working a lot of late nights."  She put up her middle finger, forming a vee.  "You suddenly feel the need to take phone calls out of the room," she added another finger, "and get a gazillion texts."  She lifted her pinky.  "You were unexpectedly not at work when I showed up."

"Which I explained," he butted in.

"Fine, then explain the perfume and lipstick."

"I shouldn't have to," he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak, "but I will because I can see how disturbed you are by it."

Ali felt her eyes bug.  Disturbed was putting it mildly.

"Sam Johnson's secretary came to dinner with us, and she gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek as we were leaving."

"And you let her?"  Her voice was laced with accusation, which she knew was the wrong way to behave, but she didn't friggin' care.  Her whole world was tumbling out of control.

Garrett looked exasperated, and he had an edge to his voice when he said, "Ali, Mrs. Dickerson's eighty if she's a day."

Well, that took a little wind out of her sails.  But she had more.  "What about the secretive phone calls and texts?"  She crossed her fingers and hoped he didn't put two and two together and suspect she was the one who'd broken his phone.

"They're business calls, Ali.  I step out of the room so the caller won't hear the kids in the background.  As for the texts, I've been CEO for almost a year now.  Everyone's finally gotten the memo."  He shrugged.  "I'm popular."  A sexy smirk pulled at his lips.  The same smirk that had coaxed her out of her panties ten years prior and wasn't any less effective now.  He took a step closer.  "Where is this coming from?  What's going on in that head of yours?  Why the mistrust all of a sudden?  You know I love you and would never do anything to hurt you."

She didn't back away this time as he stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around her.  "I guess everything piled together... It just looked so suspicious.  I was being silly.  I'm sorry I doubted you."

"You're not silly.  But it does hurt to think you don't trust me.  That you'd think I'd do something like that to you.  You're the love of my life, Ali.  I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have."

She snuggled closer, trying to ignore the cloying scent that permeated her nostrils.  God, how could she have doubted him?  They'd been together so long—since college.  They had so much history together.  He'd been her first everything.  If anything happened to the two of them, she'd be devastated.

Could that be why she misconstrued what was really happening?  Did she let her fears blow everything out of proportion?

Squeezing him tighter, she again apologized, "I'm sorry."

Tightening his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head.  "You don't need to apologize, I just wished you'd talked to me.  I don't like that you had those thoughts running through your head."

Ali sighed against his chest, letting out a relieved breath.  "I didn't like having them there either."

He planted a quick kiss atop her head.  "I'm going to grab a shower.  Now that you've brought it to my attention, I can smell the perfume, and it's giving me a headache."

She watched her husband walk up the stairs, feeling better than she'd had in weeks.  Then making sure everything was locked and turning off all the lights, she followed him.

≈≈≈≈

Ali panted out Garrett's name as her orgasm rippled through her.  Morning sex.  Nothing better.  Her whole body tingled, and her toes curled, digging into the mattress as Garrett thrust into her two more times before coming with a shout.

He buried his face in her neck, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him close and keeping him inside her.

After a few minutes, their breathing slowed and his lips went on an exploration up her neck until they found her ear.  "How about I go out and get some donuts and pick you up some of that fancy coffee you like so much?"

"Mmm... That sounds like heaven."

His chuckle filled her ear.  "Then you need to let go of me, baby."

She unwrapped her arms and legs and lay like a wet noodle as she watched Garrett disappear into the bathroom.  A minute later, she heard the water turn on.  She stretched, knowing she should get up.  The kids would be awake soon, Emma probably already was.  She was good about playing in her room and letting Mommy and Daddy sleep in on the weekends, but she did have an end to her patience.

Ali heard the water shut off and knew that was her cue to get her lazy butt out of bed.  Pulling clean clothes from the dresser, she carried them to the bathroom, passing Garrett going out as she went in.

She was just stepping out of the shower when Garrett yelled through the door.  "I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay.  Don't forget to buy a pink donut with rainbow sprinkles for Emma and Noah likes the maple bars."

"I remember."

She didn't bother with blow drying, instead throwing her wet hair into a knot at the top of her head.  Ready to face the day, she left the room to go round up her kids.

 

Two hours later, Ali paced the living room unsure whether to be angry or worried that Garrett hadn't come home yet.  She'd sent the kids out to play in the backyard after feeding them cold cereal when they'd complained they were hungry and had made herself a pot of coffee.

She'd tried calling after he'd been gone for an hour, knowing it couldn't possibly take longer than that to go to the donut store and the coffee shop.  Not even if he'd waited for them to hand make a fresh batch of donuts and milk a cow before creating her latte.  Okay, so it might take an hour if he had to wait for them to milk a cow.  But that was beside the point.  The point was, his phone had gone straight to voicemail.

The freshly buried doubts once more rose to the surface with each minute that passed, causing her over active imagination to kick into overdrive.

Stopping in front of the sliding-glass doors on her trek across the living room, she peeked out to check on the kids.  They were playing catch with an over-sized inflatable beach ball.  She watched as Noah sailed it through the air and Emma—the ball almost as big as she was—missed it by a mile.

She smiled, enjoying their antics until she heard the garage door slam.  Turning from the window, she waited for Garrett to enter the living room.

"Where have you been?" she asked as soon as Garrett appeared, carrying a large pink box with a tray of four drinks balanced on top.

His head swiveled to where she was standing.  His hair was windblown as if he'd driven with the window open and his lips were tipped up into a small smile.  "Donuts and coffee."

"And it took two hours?"

He progressed into the kitchen and she followed.  "I stopped by the paint store, too.  I needed a few extra gallons to finish the playroom."

"Why didn't you tell me?  I was starting to worry."

He frowned.  "I didn't know I was going to go.  I passed it on the way to the donut shop.  It was a last minute decision."

"And your phone?  Why didn't you call?  I was worried something had happened to you."  She knew she was giving him the third degree and being ridiculous but couldn't seem to stop.

He patted his pants pockets.  "Guess I left it at home."  His head tilted as he took the few steps to her and nabbed her around the waist, kissing her on the forehead, the tip of her nose, then taking her lips in a deep kiss.  "Sorry, I worried you."

She closed her eyes, her arms reaching around his waist, and her head hitting his chest as he pulled her in for a tight hug.

It wasn't until later that night, unable to sleep, she realized she never did see the paint he claimed to have bought.

≈≈≈≈

"You want to do what?"  Mia spoke in a low voice to avoid detection from their yoga instructor, but it was clear and strong, emphasizing she wasn't the least bit affected by their exercise.

Ali's stomach, on the other hand, was starting to burn from holding a low boat pose for so long.  She really needed to do the yoga thing a bit more on the regular.  If her screaming muscles were any indication, she was out of shape.

She'd just shared the events of the last couple of days, leaving nothing out, not even her thoughts and how she'd truly believed everything Garrett had told her.  At least until she was lying in bed unable to fall asleep where she had again flip-flopped, unsure whether he'd told the truth.  She wasn't proud of her behavior, but she also didn't want to come out looking like a chump when all was said and done.

The last thing she wanted was to be that wife, the one who had no clue of her husband's infidelity until everyone but her knew.  The one everyone whispered about, saying, how could she not have known?  The signs were all there.

Answering Mia's question, she said, "It's the only way I'll have peace of mind.  Checking out Mr. Johnson secretary will tell me one way or the other whether Garrett was telling me the truth.  I can't live with this doubt hanging over our marriage."   Her legs were starting to shake, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold the pose.

"Okay, everyone, plow pose."  The instructor's voice floated through the room.

Ali breathed a sigh of relief as she fell to her back, but with her legs still in the air, her poor stomach muscles were still screaming.

She turned her head Mia's direction.  Her friend looked deep in thought.  "What are you thinking?" Ali asked through gritted teeth, determined not to drop her legs until they were instructed to.

"I'm thinking this plan you've cooked up is batty as hell."

Ali opened her mouth to defend her position, but Mia continued before she could speak.

"But if you're really going through with it, you know I've got your back."

Ali gave her friend a smile.  "Thanks.  You're the best."

≈≈≈≈

The following morning, decked out in business attire, Mia and Ali stepped into the lobby of the Trident building, the home of Peterson, Monroe, and Johnson.

"Who knew we cleaned up so well."  Mia gave Ali the once-over.  "Where in the heck did you find that suit?"

"In the back of my closet.  I wore it to Aunt Josephine's funeral three years ago."  Ali gave Mia the same once-over.  "What about you?  Where'd you get that getup?"

Mia rolled her eyes and shivered.  "I borrowed it from my mother-in-law.  She's ecstatic because she thinks my lazy-ass is going on a job interview.  The lazy-ass part are my words, not hers."

Ali snorted.  They both knew Mia was one of the least lazy people they knew.  Three kids ranging in age from seven to two would keep anyone on their toes.

Mia was staring at her head.

"What?" she asked, craning her neck away when Mia's face got too close.

"I was just wondering how you did that to your hair."

Ali had tamed her flyaway blonde locks with an extra helping of gel then put it in a complicated twist while it was still wet.  "Just be glad we don't need to go through a metal detector.  I think they'd alert S.W.A.T with the amount of bobby pins I have in my hair."

Mia laughed before putting her game face on.  "We need to hurry.  Mark needs to leave in an hour to give a presentation, and I promised we'd be back by then."

Mark was a saint.  An architect who mostly worked from home, he always watched the girls when Ali and Mia had something to do.  Looking around the crowded lobby, Ali spotted a directory on the far wall and started for it.

"Slow down Speed Racer.  I haven't had my lesson in walking in heels yet."

Slowing her step, Ali looked to her friend.  "You just said we needed to hurry."

"Yes, but me braking an ankle won't do anyone any good."

Ali rolled her eyes before scanning the directory.  "Okay, this is our cover story—"

"We need a cover story?" Mia interjected.

Ali gave her the look she used on Emma when her three-year-old said something unbelievable.  "Every good scheme needs a cover story.  Now, hush up and let me finish."

Ali explained "The Plan."  After finding the location of Johnson's office on the map, they randomly selected a name from the directory.

"Trust me, it'll come in handy," Ali said, taking Mia's hand and leading her to the elevators.

They hopped on and took it to the fifth floor.

"I think it's this way."  Mia pointed down the hall to the right once the elevator doors parted and they stepped out.

The smell hit Ali as soon as they opened the door.  Cloying perfume.  Looked as though they were in the right place.  "We'll check out the secretary, then leave," Ali whispered as they snaked through the door

"Ten-four."

Ali snorted, shaking her head.

The office was nice if a bit outdated.  Plush carpeting.  Dark walls.  Decorative prints.  And a massive oaken desk, looking even larger compared to the little old lady sitting behind it.  A plaque on her desk announced her name as Mrs. Dickerson.

Ali had never felt such relief.  At least Garrett had been telling the truth about something.

"Can I help you, ladies?"  Mr. Johnson's secretary's ruby-red lips turned up into a denture revealing smile.

Enacting the plan, Ali answered, "We're looking for Mr. Butterman's office."

"Oh, dear.  I'm afraid you have the wrong floor.  He's up on seven."

Ali grabbed Mia's hand.  "I'm terribly sorry.  We must've read the directory wrong.  Please excuse us."  She backed them to the door.

"No problem, dear.  I get confused all the time.  Why, just this morning, I couldn't find my glasses.  Searched for over an hour and they were around my neck the whole time."

Ali opened the door and ushered Mia out before they both exploded into giggles.

≈≈≈≈

Ali poked her head out of the bathroom door to check the time on the digital clock at the side of the bed.  She was running late.  Garrett would be home any minute, and she wasn't even dressed yet.

She'd been so relieved after leaving Johnson's office—discovering Garrett hadn't lied about his secretary—she'd called her husband the minute she'd gotten home and told him not to be late coming home because she had something special planned for him.

Dinner for two at their favorite French restaurant.

She'd tried to stay on schedule, but her mother-in-law had talked her ear off when she'd dropped off the kids, and short of being rude, she couldn't stop her mid-sentence and rush out the door.  Not when she'd been so nice, agreeing to babysit the kids last minute on a Monday night.  Especially knowing she'd have them again that weekend for their monthly sleepover.

And, of course, she'd had to pop into her favorite boutique and buy a new dress.  In the mood to look sexy and flirty, she wanted something that would drive Garrett wild.

That left her rushing through her hair and makeup and at the rate her hands flew, she'd be fortunate if she didn't take out an eye with the mascara wand or burn her forehead with the curling rod.

Lotioned, powdered, and spritzed, she hurried from the bathroom and crashed into a solid chest.  Garrett's hands came out, snagging her waist as hers came up, grasping the lapels of his jacket.

"Please tell me this is my surprise."  He was looking down at her, but his gaze wasn't lingering on her face, his attention was snagged on her breasts overflowing the cups of her new red, lace demi bra."

"Sorry, but no, I..."  Her words faltered as a single finger came up to trace the swells of her breasts.

"New bra?" he asked, seemingly fixated on the delicate, lace edging.

"I, um, bought it today, along with a new dress."

"I like it."

His finger slowly circled her nipple through the satin fabric, and she felt it pucker under his touch.  Need hit her hard and strong, and she wondered how she could become so turned on by a single digit and a heated stare.

"I wonder if I can make you come with just one finger."  The previously mentioned finger moved down the plane of her stomach, stopping to dip suggestively into her navel.

Her fingers tightened on his lapels.  "I wouldn't be opposed to finding out."

His chuckle rumbled like a caress over her skin, creating goose bumps down her arms.  His finger trailed lower, stopping at the elastic of her panties to play along its edge.  "These are new, too."

"They're..."  She cleared away the frog of desire clogging her throat.  "They're a matching set."

His eyes bore into hers, heated and stormy with hunger.  He applied pressure with his finger, pressing it into her abdomen.  "Step back, Ali."

She took a step back, and his nostrils flared.  She knew he liked when she followed his demands without protest.

"Another."

It was a sharp command that had her nipples tightening and her sex clenching.  She took another step back.

"One more, baby."  He went back to using a husky, low tone, and she wasn't sure which one excited her more.

She took another step, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the bed.

"Now sit and spread your legs."

He stepped in closer, and she had to tilt her head back to watch from her seated position as he shrugged from his jacket then tossed it on the bed beside her.  His long, strong fingers next tackled the knot in his tie, loosening it and undoing the top three buttons of his shirt before moving on to his cuffs, after which he rolled up his forearms.

Garrett squatted between her parted thighs, and she followed his movements, keeping him in sight.  His pointer hooked under the gusset of her panties, exposing her to his greedy eyes.

They licked their lips simultaneously.

"Pity, I said I would only touch you with one finger.  I find myself suddenly craving a taste.  But wait."  He slid a finger through her folds and entered her wetness.  Pulling his finger back out, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean.  "Problem solved."

God, that was hot.  She licked her lips again, craving his.  She loved what he could do with his mouth.  Lips that looked hard but were incredibly soft with the bottom one a bit fuller than the top.  His tongue, a warm, slick, powerful muscle that loved to tease her mercilessly.  His teeth he used, not to inflict pain but exquisite pleasure.

An arrogant smirk formed on said mouth, as if he could read her thoughts, before his finger was back, slipping into her and curling to find the spot he knew drove her wild.

"So much I can do with just one finger."  He pulled his finger back out, slick with her wetness, and slid it down into the seam of her ass.

She knew his objective.  He knew she liked it.  There hadn't been much they haven't tried in their seven years of marriage, but his progress was hampered by the bed.  With a growl, he commanded, "Lie back."

He hooked the waistband of her panties, pulling down one side before doing the same to the other.  Once past her hips, they easily slid the rest of the way down her legs.

She wasn't sure who this one finger thing was more torturous for—him or her.

"Feet flat on the bed, legs wide.  I'm going to make you come now.  I'm so fucking hard, I need to be inside you."

Guess that answered her question.

His finger went straight for her clit.  Yeah, he wasn't fooling around now.  He circled it, applying pressure.  "Come fast for me, baby.  My cock wants to come out and play."  His voice was laced with the edginess of his impatience.

She raised her hips off the bed, wanting closer to his touch.  "I need more than just your finger."

"No, you don't."

He kept at a steady rhythm, and she felt her climax building.  "Oh, God, it's starting.  Don't stop what you're doing."

"I wasn't planning on it."  He sounded a bit distracted, and she caught him working at the waistband of his slacks in her periphery.

She closed her eyes and rolled her hips to the tempo of his finger as her orgasm crested, hovering right at the edge until with a shout of his name she spiraled down.

She felt him slam into her, and she opened her eyes to find his intense gaze looking down at her as the last of her orgasm milked his cock.  He moved in and out, and it wasn't long before his whole body stiffened with the roar of her name punctuating his final thrust.

His mouth landed on her neck, sucking in a bit of flesh before moving to her lips for a deep kiss.

They never made it to dinner, but she did get to wear her new dress—for about three seconds.

≈≈≈≈

Thursday started off normal, in fact, the last two days had been practically blissful with no mysterious phone calls or annoying beeping texts.  Which was why when Ali had collected the dry cleaning from the hamper in the closet she'd been thrown for such a loop.  Though she shouldn't have been.  It'd been her own fault.  She'd let her defenses down.

Lifting out articles of clothing and shoving them into a travel bag, she felt something crinkle in the pocket of one of Garrett's slacks.  The pair he'd worn the day he didn't have his phone so couldn't take notes on his planner.  The day he'd had dinner with Mr. Johnson.

Worried it might be something important, she reached her hand in, pulling out a folded piece of paper.  She unfolded it.  A name, date, time, and place were written in her husband's scrawl.

All the reassurances her husband had imparted went flying out the window as she stared at the note.  The letters that spelled out the name of a fancy hotel started to blur, and she blinked back the tears that welled in her eyes.  She tried to think of some reason her husband would need to meet a woman named Serena at such an expensive and classy establishment.

She couldn't think of any.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, she looked down at the incriminating paper clutched tightly in her fingers.  She needed to think things through.  Make sure he was really doing something sordid before accusing him of anything.  She'd jumped to the wrong conclusion a few times already and didn't want to do so again.

Or had she?

Falling to her side, she grabbed one of her husband's pillows and brought it to her chest, hugging it close and burying her face to smell his scent.  But she didn't think anything could soothe the rolling queasiness in her stomach or lighten the heaviness of her heart.  Her mind churned, thinking about what she should do, and could only come up with one solution to be absolutely sure he was innocent.

And it was way worse than trying to snoop through his phone or scoping out little old ladies.

She was going to spy on her husband.

Mind made up, she reached for her phone to call Mia.

≈≈≈≈

"Babe, have you seen my navy tie with the beige stripe?" Garrett asked, stepping out of the closet fully dressed in one of his nicest suits minus the jacket he held in his hand.

He looked nice.  No, he looked better than nice, he looked fantastic.  Looking as if he put forth extra effort, his hair was perfectly styled without a hair out of place.  Freshly shaven, his strong jaw was more pronounced and the color of the shirt he'd selected brought out the blue of his eyes.

Her stomach dropped at the overall package because today was Friday.  Meet at the hotel day.

"Um, I think it may be at the cleaners."

"Damn.  I wanted to wear it today."

It was his favorite tie.  Ali knew this because he wore it the most often.

"You have the navy one with the burgundy stripe.  That one would go nicely," she said, hating to be helpful.  Nothing like "gift wrapping" her husband for her replacement.

"I guess that one will do," he said, tossing his jacket on the bed and disappearing back into the closet.

Ali finished rushing through her morning routine then headed downstairs to get breakfast started, yelling at her son on her way past his room.  "Noah, you'd better be up and getting dressed.  Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes and your butt better be in the kitchen."

She heard a mumbled reply.  She hated being so strict, but seriously, her son would sleep until noon if given a chance.  She'd learned the hard way, tough love was needed to deal with Noah in the mornings.

She'd just popped a couple of frozen waffles into the toaster and was pouring herself a cup of coffee when two hands landed on her hips, startling her and causing her to spill coffee on the counter.

Garrett's butter-smooth voice filled her ear.  "You okay?  You seem a little frazzled this morning."

Tearing off a paper towel from the roll, she mopped up her spill.  "I'm no more frazzled than any other morning before coffee."

He chuckled, kissing her neck just below her ear.  He took a small sidestep reaching over her head to grab a travel mug from the cupboard.  "I'll be late again tonight."

"What?  Why?"  She threw the paper towel onto the counter and folded her arms across her chest.

"It's our monthly board meeting.  You know those things run late."

She quickly ran through her memory and couldn't remember a time they'd ever had a board meeting on a Friday night.  It had to be more than just a coincidence he had that appointment and was working late.

"But the kids are going to your parents, and we'll have the house to ourselves," she persisted.

Garrett took the coffeepot from her and filled his mug.  "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't have the power to change the meeting.  We'll do something special tomorrow night instead."  He capped his mug then brushed his lips against hers.  "Gotta go.  If I don't answer my phone, leave a message, and I'll call you back."

"Why wouldn't you answer your phone?" she called out to his retreating back, but he didn't answer as he left the kitchen, and a few seconds later, she heard the door to the garage slam.

≈≈≈≈

"Oh... my God... what are you wearing?" Mia asked between bursts of belly laughter.

Ali looked down at herself.  Black leggings and a black, long-sleeved, turtleneck tee covered almost every inch of her skin.  She'd slicked her hair back into a low ponytail and wore the biggest sunglasses she could find, the lenses covering half her face.

"What?"  She was slightly affronted.  She'd thought she'd done a good job.  She would blend into the shadows, and no one would recognize her.

"I'll repeat, this isn't Mission Impossible or a James Bond movie."  Mia still had a ridiculous grin on her face.

"This is what people wear when doing things like this," Ali argued her case.

"Only at night when it's dark.  Ali, the sun is shining, and where we're going people will be dressed to the nines.  You'll stick out like an Eskimo at a nudist colony."

"Does anyone really stick out standing next to a nudist?"

"Well, maybe not, but you know what I mean."

"I's thinks mommy looks pretty," Emma chimed in her two cents.

"Thank you, baby."  Ali ran her fingers through her daughter's soft curls.

Then Mark walked into the room, and she lost her daughter's attention.  "Uncle Mark," Emma squealed running to the larger-than-life man and hugging his tree-trunk-sized leg.

"Hey, munchkin."  His rich baritone filled the room as he leaned down swooping Emma up in his arms.  "Callie's been waiting for you all morning.  Should we go find her?"

"Yes!" Emma exclaimed, pounding him on the shoulder.

Mark's gaze hit Ali and Mia.  "I don't even want to know what you girls are up to."  Shaking his head, he turned and left the room.

Mia looked over at Ali breaking out in a laugh.  "He really doesn't."

Ali's giggle burst forth.  Shaking her head, she agreed, "No, he doesn't."

≈≈≈≈

After a makeover session in Mia's closet—where, Ali ended up wearing a gauzy, swishy, flowered-print skirt and cream, silk blouse—they were ready to go.

It had taken twenty minutes to drive from Mia's neighborhood to the swanky hotel, and in that time, they'd argued about what they would do once they got there.  All they had to go on was a date, time, and location.  But Ali hadn't taken into account how large the hotel was and how they were going to locate Garrett in it.

Then Ali had an idea.  "All phones have tracking capability these days, his should, especially since I just bought him the latest model."

"Do you even know how to activate something like that?" Mia asked, flicking on her right-turn signal and merging into the turning lane.

"I'm sure it's just an app.  Everything is an app nowadays."  Ali took out her phone and pulled up the app store.  After a minute, she said, "It seems easy enough."

Mia smacked the steering wheel.  "There you go, problem solved."

"It also says the phone you're tracking needs to have its locator turned on."  Ali moved her gaze from her phone to her friend.  "I'm not sure if it is."

"Only one way to find out."

Ali hit the download button then watched the progress bar fill.  "Okay, fingers crossed this works."  She opened the app and typed in Garrett's phone number.  A screen appeared.  "It's not very detailed.  We already know what hotel he's at, and it's not giving me any more info than that," Ali said with a sigh of frustration.

"Maybe it'll get more detailed the closer we get to him."  Mia took a right then promptly swore as some guy cut her off.

"If not, we need a Plan B."  Ali went silent, staring at her friend.

Mia flicked her eyes to Ali.  "Why are you looking at me?"

"Because I'm out of ideas, and you haven't come up with one yet."

Mia shook her head.  "No way, you're the devious one of our daring duo.  I'm just the sidekick along for the ride."  Mia took a left into the hotel parking lot.  "But it doesn't matter because we're here and have no time left to plan a Plan B."

Ali got out of the car and pulled up the app while Mia came around to her side.

"What does it say?" she asked, trying to peer over Ali's shoulder.  "Well, the good news is, he hasn't left the hotel.  The bad news is, both our phone dots are practically on top of each other, so I don't think we'll be able to pinpoint his exact location."

Mia looked around the parking lot.  "Do you see his car?"

After a quick search, Ali shook her head.  "I'm sure this isn't the only parking lot, though."

Mia took Ali's hand.  "Come on, let's move in closer."

 

Turned out, they didn't need a tracking app after all.  As they approached the side of the hotel, Ali saw Garrett, sitting in a booth, through a window that looked into the hotel's restaurant.

Quickly yanking Mia's arm, she ducked them behind a shrub.

"What the hell—"

"Shush!  Not so loud."  Ali held a finger to her lips.  "I just saw Garrett."

Mia craned her neck around the bush.  "What?  Where?" she whisper-yelled.

Ali pulled her back.  "He's in the restaurant.  I saw him through the window."

"Then why are we whispering?  He can't possibly hear us from there."

Ali paused before replying, "Best not to take any chances."

Mia giggled, shaking her head.  "Did you see who he was with?"

Ali shook her head.  "I didn't get a chance to before I freaked out."

"Okay, then that's our next step."

Ali shook her head again.  "He's facing the window.  He'll see us for sure."

"So what do you want to do?"

Ali looked around the opposite side of the bush.  "There're more windows over here.  If we look through one of these, Garrett's back will be to us, but we'll be able to see who he's sitting across from."

"Okay, and then what?"

Ali chewed on her thumbnail.  "I don't know.  What if he's with another woman?"  Ali closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  "Oh, God, I didn't think this through.  Do I really want to know?  No, don't answer that.  Of course, I want to know."  She felt a hand grab her arm and opened her eyes.

Mia was giving her a stern look.  "But remember, we can't jump to conclusions even if he is with a woman.  It could be a perfectly platonic business meeting."

"How will we know?"

"We need to watch them for a few minutes.  Believe me, we'll be able to tell."

"Okay.  Let's do this."  Ali was talking more to herself than Mia, giving herself a pep talk and mentally preparing herself for the worst.

God, what if he really were with another woman?  The moment felt so surreal.  She honestly hadn't thought that was a real possibility until just then.  Sure she'd had her suspicions, but they were just that.  Suspicions.  But, now, she was about to find out the truth, and in true Jack Nicholson style, she wasn't sure she could handle it.

They edged around the bush and looked through the window.  Ali stood on her tiptoes trying to get a clear shot, with Mia—a good five inches taller—standing behind her.

"Can you see over the booth?" Ali asked, doing a little hop to see better.

"Barely.  I can only see the tops of their heads."

"Well, does it look like a man's top of a head or a woman's?"

"I'm not sure if I'm looking at the right table.  You said Garrett was across from the other person, but both these people are on the same side."

Ali was growing impatient and needed to see for herself.  "Boost me up."

"Boost you up?"

"Yeah, lace your fingers together and give me a boost."

"What?" Mia asked, looking bewildered.

"You know like you're helping me onto a horse."

"I've never ridden a horse."

Ali sighed in exasperation.  "Neither have I, but you've seen a western movie."

"Girl, John Wayne never needed no help getting onto his horse."

"Mia, just do it!  The suspense is killing me."

Mia laced her fingers and leaned over so Ali could step up on her open palms.  Ali grasped the window ledge, trying not to give Mia all of her weight then stuck her nose millimeters away from the glass to get a good look inside.

Mia had been right.  Garrett was now on the other side of the booth.  And sitting next to him was a beautiful brunette.  Ali felt her heart sink into her stomach.

"Can you see anything?" Mia whispered from below her.

"He's sitting next to a woman.  God, Mia, she's gorgeous."  Ali felt tears threatening, but she refused to give them rein until she knew what the hell was going on.

"What are they doing?"

Ali stared at the couple, not even daring to blink.  "So far, they're just talking."

"Well, that's good.  Maybe it is just a business meeting."

"Why is he sitting next to her?"

"Maybe they needed to go over some paperwork or something.  Does it look like they're reading anything or looking down at something?"

Ali pressed her face closer, her nose now touching the glass.  "It does look like maybe there're papers spread out in front of them."

"See.  I'm sure it's noth—"

"Wait."  Ali cut her off.  "She just laid her hand on his forearm.  And she's laughing.  Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Garrett's laughing now, too, and he just patted her hand.  He's letting her keep it on his arm."  Like a bad car wreck, she couldn't look away from the scene in front of her.

She heard Mia ask into the silence.  "What's happening now?"

"They've both stood up.  I think I'm going to be sick.  She's standing way too close to him, and he's leaning down so he can hear what she's saying.  God, Mia, I don't think I can watch anymore."

And just as she'd said that, Garrett's head swiveled, looking toward the window, his eyes trained right on her.  Rearing back, she lost her balance, falling into the bush behind her and becoming entangled in the branches.

"Shit, Ali, are you okay?"

Was she?  Nothing hurt.  "I think so.  Help me up."  Ali held out her hand, and Mia grabbed it.

"What the hell happened?" Mia asked as they both struggled to untangle her from the bush.

"Garrett looked out the window.  I don't think he could see through the glass with how bright it is inside and how dark it is out here from all the bushes, but it startled me nonetheless."

Mia gave her hand a tug, and she felt a pain tug her scalp.  She yelped a panicked, "Wait!"

"What?"  Mia released her hand and Ali sank back into the bush.

"I think my hair is caught."  Ali felt along the back of her head, trying to discover where she was snared.  She heard a few ripping sounds but was more concerned about what else could be in the bush with her, and her desire not to find out.  "Okay, I think I got it loose."  She held out her hand again.  "Help me out, quick."

Mia tugged.  Hard.  And Ali came stumbling out, feeling quite a bit more air conditioned than when she fell in.  She looked down at herself.  Her blouse had a long rip down the side and was hanging half off her body.  Or should she say Mia's blouse.

Ali gave her a guilty look.  "I'll buy you a new one, promise."

Mia waved a hand.  "Don't worry, it's an old blouse."

"What am I going to do?  I can't walk across that big-ass parking lot like this."  Ali said with a note of panic.

Mia pulled the blouse off.  "Take off your bra."

What?  Had she lost her mind?  "I'm not flashing my boobs."

"It's only flashing if there's someone around to see."  Mia waved a hand.  "There's no one here."

Ali waved a hand right back.  "We're standing next to a window."

"That no one can see out of."

"That was just a theory, Mia," Ali bit out.

"Just do it.  I have an idea."

"Why do I feel like I get the short end of the stick every time you utter the words, I've got an idea?"  But she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra.

Quick as a flash, Mia had the waistband of her skirt up and over her boobs, so she now wore her skirt like a tube top.

"Wow, that's so much better.  I won't draw any attention walking through the parking lot like this."  It was hard to miss the sarcasm dripping from her words.

"Shut up.  I'm not finished."

Ali watched as Mia further ripped the blouse and twisted it into a rope.  She then tied the makeshift belt around her waist.  Heck, it didn't look half bad.

"One last thing, and then we can go."  Mia tugged the rubber band from Ali's hair then fluffed it around her shoulders.  "There, good as new."

They hurried through the parking lot, Ali trying to discreetly hide her bra in the folds of her now really short skirt.  It was an expensive one from Victoria's Secret, and there was no way she was leaving it behind.

It wasn't until they were halfway home and the ramifications of what she'd just witnessed had finally set in that the tears started to flow.  And she had a feeling they wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

≈≈≈≈

Ali stared googly-eyed as a half-naked Channing Tatum strutted his fine self across the stage to the beat of Ginuwine's Pony.  Mia whooped and hollered at the big screen TV from beside her on the couch.  They were well into a second pitcher of margaritas and Ali was definitely feeling the effects.

Too emotionally distraught to go home after the fiasco at the hotel, Mia had suggested Ali spend the night at her house.  Being the respectful wife—though why she cared she didn't know—she'd texted Garrett her plans, and upon receiving a cheerful "Have fun" complete with a happy-face emoji as a response, she'd wanted to throw her phone against the wall.  Instead, she'd spent the afternoon crying herself into a mindless stupor until she'd needed to get her act together to pick Noah up from school and drop both kids off at her mother-in-law's for the weekend.

Now, hours later, back in her comfortable leggings and tee with a pitcher of margs in her stomach, she was feeling almost—well, mostly—better.

"For a white boy that man can move."  Mia took a large gulp of her drink, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Ali polished off her own glass and nodded vigorously in response to Mia's statement as she reached for the pitcher.  She fell off the couch with a thud then started giggling.

Mia tore her eyes from the screen.  "How'd you get down there?  No more happy juice for you.  Don't want to wake up with a hangover tomorrow."

Ali held up her glass.  "Careful of the first step, it's a woozy."  She started laughing uncontrollably, but soon her laughter turned into sobs.  She buried her face in her knees and moaned.  "What am I going to do?"

"No-no-no-no-no!  We are not sad," Mia said.

Ali looked up at Mia through her alcohol and tear-blurred vision. She blinked a few times then got unsteadily to her feet, slamming her glass down on the coffee table.  "You're right.  I'm pissed.  How dare that no-good, two-timing, backstabbing, um..."

"Douche-nozzle?" supplied Mia.

Ali gave her a grin.  "Yeah, okay, douche-nozzle."  Her grin faded.  "Anyway, how dare he think he could get away with cheating on me, and I would just roll over and play dead."  Ali stomped her foot and lost her balance, catching herself with a hand on the coffee table.  "In fact, I'm going to call him and tell him that right now!"

"Whoa."  Mia grabbed her shoulders, stopping her mad dash to her cell phone.  "That's not a great idea in the state you're in.  Maybe wait until you're sober.  Late night drunken phone calls never end well."

Ali's shoulders slumped, and she exhaled on a sigh.  "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am.  Now, sit down.  You never did tell me exactly what you saw."

Ali took a deep breath.  "Well, Garrett and the woman were standing really close, laughing, and he leaned in to hear her better and..." she trailed off, realizing that was the extent of her knowledge.

"And what?  Did he kiss her?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"Well, I guess he could have kissed her.  I don't know.  I stopped watching because I fell into a bush."

"So you don't even know if he actually cheated?"

The alcohol wasn't helping Ali's thought process.  "I don't know, ugh."  Ali pulled at her hair.  Was she making too much out of it?  She hadn't thought so at the time, but now, looking back on it, she wasn't so sure.

Mia draped an arm around Ali's shoulders.  "Things will look better in the morning.  You can call Garrett and get everything straightened out."

Ali sighed.  "Okay."

"Come on, let's finish our movie marathon.  I'm excited to see Chris Hemsworth getting his Thor on."

≈≈≈≈

Ali groaned as she slowly opened her eyes then promptly closed them again when the sun glared into her eyeballs.  She weakly brought her hand to her forehead and took a minute to get her bearings.

She remembered she was at Mia's house, which in turn had her recalling why.  She moaned, rolling to her side and curling into a fetal position.  She didn't think the ache would ever go away.

Garrett was her life, the other half of her soul and now she had a big empty spot in her chest she didn't think could ever be refilled.

Garrett's face flashed through her mind, his cocky smile filling her vision.  She remembered the first time she'd seen that smile.  She'd been a freshman and he a junior, and they'd literally run into each other at the campus bookstore.  The pile of books she'd been holding had spilled to the floor, and after he'd helped pick them up, he'd given her a smile.  A smile she would never forget.  It hadn't taken more than a few weeks for her to lose her heart.

And he still had it.  She didn't think she'd ever get it back.

With a sigh, she sat up.  The house was quiet, too quiet.  She saw her phone on the coffee table.  Reaching for it to check the time, she saw she had a missed text.

The text was from Garrett.  Her finger hovered over his name.  She was scared to open it and see what it said.  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tapped the screen.  She counted to ten before slowly opening her eyes and after a quick scan, saw red.  Heart thundering in her chest, her eyes moved back to the top to reread it slowly.

Babe.  Hope you had fun last night.  I had to step out for a while so I probably won't be home when you get there.  I promise to be back in time for dinner.  XOXO

With shaky fingers, her heart now trying to crawl up her throat, she pulled up the tracking app.  Sure enough, his phone icon and red dot showed him at the Freemont Hotel.

"What's wrong?"  Mia, looking as disheveled as Ali probably did, came walking into the room.

Ali looked back down at her hands.  They were empty, the phone lying on the floor by her feet.  She hadn't even realized she'd dropped it.  Too shocked to even cry, she just sat and stared at the phone.  Numb.  She'd finally reached a state where she was numb.  "I don't think Garrett ever went home last night."  Was that her voice, sounding so calm and... distant?

"Are you sure?" Mia's voice wasn't as calm.

Ali shrugged.  "Pretty sure.  I used the tracking app.  He's at the same hotel.  I don't think he ever left."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."  She rested her forehead on her knees.  A chill raced down her spine and she shivered.  Dejectedly, she whispered, "I just don't know."

"Girl, listen to me, everything's going to be all right."

As Mia's words sunk in, Ali slowly felt the cold melt away as a blazing heat engulfed her body.  Anger replacing the numbness.  Not anger toward her friend.  Anger at Garrett.

How dare he do that to her.

How dare he sneak behind her back with some other woman and not have the balls to confront her first.  How dare he treat her like a piece of garbage, an old shoe, something insignificant.

Fuck that!

Getting to her feet, she breathed heavily.

"Ali?  You okay?  Talk to me."

"Yeah, I'm okay.  And I know what I'm going to do."

"What?  Girl, don't do anything crazy.  Though, you know I got your back if you need bail money.  Kids don't really need to go to college anyway."

Ali shook her head.  "No.  I'm not going to jail, but I am going to that hotel to find my husband even if I have to knock on every door to accomplish that goal."

"I'm going with you.  Mark took the kids to the park, so I'm good."

Ali closed her eyes, tears forming behind her closed lids at the love she felt for her best friend at that moment.  Opening her eyes, she looked over at Mia and with a voice roughened with emotion, said, "Thank you."

≈≈≈≈

After grabbing a quick shower to wash the last traces of alcohol from her system, Ali planted herself behind the steering wheel of her car, travel mug full of coffee firmly tucked between her legs.  She glanced over at Mia as she slipped into the passenger seat.

She'd lied to her friend.  She wouldn't really knock on every door until she found her husband, but she did hope if she called him when she arrived he would at least feel... Guilty?  Concerned?  Obligated?  Enough to come down and meet her.

Other than that, she had no plan.  She didn't know what she would say to him.  Her thoughts churned with the various possibilities, but this time, her smooth-talking husband wouldn't be digging himself out of his grave.  Nope, this time he didn't have a shovel.

Having been at the hotel the day before, she knew the lay of the land and picked a parking spot close to the entrance.  If she broke down, she wanted a fast getaway.

Stepping from the car, she looked up at the sky and observed for the first time, it was actually a beautiful day.  Big, fluffy, white clouds surrounded by a sea of bright blue with the sun radiating the perfect temperature.  The complete opposite of the dark and stormy thoughts that raced through her head.

Though close, the walk to the entry still seemed endless, and she imagined she now knew how a Death Row inmate felt, taking their final walk.  She wasn't really about to die, but the irony of the situation wasn't lost on her.  She did feel as if the life she loved was coming to an end.

Mia walked quietly by her side, a silent protector, there if she needed her.

Stepping on the mat, the glass, double doors automatically parted as if welcoming her in.  And if that wasn't the most ironic thing of all, she didn't know what was.

She crossed the threshold, stepping into a beautifully decorated lobby.  White marble, gleaming fixtures, greenery, a long reception counter manned by smiling employees, and a woman, coming at her at a fast clip, her heels tapping a frantic beat against the hard floor.  Her head was slightly bowed, looking at a clipboard she held in her hand, and she wore a headset, the microphone dangling in the vicinity of her chin.

Ali knew she looked familiar, but it wasn't until the woman drew closer, she realized it was the woman her husband had met with the day before.  Serena.  A name permanently etched into her brain from the moment she'd read it scrawled in her husband's distinctive handwriting.

Looking up, impatience dripping from her tone, the woman said, "Finally, you're here."  She took Ali by the arm, leading them deeper into the hotel.

Ali tried to twist her arm free.  "Wait just a damn minute.  What the hell—"

"We're running behind schedule."  Serena cut her off.

"Hey!" Mia yelled behind her as she was pulled forward.

What the heck was going on?  Ali gave another tug on her arm.  "Listen, lady, I don't know what you—"

"We really need to hurry."  Serena picked up her pace, dragging Ali behind her.  The woman was stronger than she looked.

Completely bewildered, Ali opened her mouth to voice her objections again, but their arrival at a closed door with Serena unceremoniously flinging it open halted her speech.

It took Ali's brain a long moment to comprehend what her eyes were seeing, and even then, she didn't fully understand what was going on.  Mia came up beside her, sharing her same bewildered expression.

The room was midsized, about the size of her bedroom at home.  Two beauty stations were set up along the side wall, complete with vanity, mirror, and the high-tech chairs seen only in salons.  A table laden with breakfast foods occupied a good portion of its center.  A couch draped with garment bags dominated the far wall.

"What the hell is going on?"  Mia, obviously recovering first, voiced the question on the tip of Ali's tongue.

Serena, blinking her baby-blues behind a pair of steel-framed glasses, waved an envelope in Ali's direction.  "Here.  Read this, then we really must get you ready."

Mia, leaning in and looking over Ali's shoulder, whispered, "There's no way in hell Garrett's having an affair with that bossy witch."

But Ali barely paid her any attention.  She was too busy staring at the envelope in her hands.  White and thick, the paper was high quality and looked a lot like an invitation.  Her name was written across the front in calligraphy.  She flipped the envelope over, slid her finger under the flap, and pulled out what was indeed an invitation.  Printed in gold cursive on thick card stock, it read:

We Are Forever

In honor of celebrating seven years of marriage, please join Garrett and Alison Evans as they renew their wedding vows on Saturday, the tenth of June, two thousand and seventeen at two o'clock in the afternoon at the Freemont Hotel, 1234 Wilshire Boulevard, Beverly Hills California

She heard Mia gasp from over her shoulder and couldn't agree more.  What the hell was going on?

≈≈≈≈

Ali stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring herself draped in cream satin.  Formfitting with a plunging neckline and long, skintight sleeves the dress was sexy as hell.  Her husband had good taste.

Even after reading the wedding announcement, it had still taken Ali an embarrassingly long time to figure out what the heck had been going on, but once the light bulb had clicked, it had flashed like a neon sign.

Then chaos, by the name of Serena—AKA the wedding planner—ensued.  With her damn clipboard in hand, she'd started rattling off things that needed to be done if they were to be ready on time.

After nibbling a light meal, a makeup technician had performed a miracle on Ali's emotionally exhausted, hungover face after which, a stylist had produced a complicated hairdo Ali would never in a million years be able to replicate.

She smiled into the mirror as Mia came into view behind her.

"We really do clean up well," Mia said, giving Ali a smile in return.

"That's quite a dress."  Bright pink was not a shade she'd ever seen Mia wear.

Mia grimaced.  "Yeah, not my first color choice, but hey, it's a free dress."

Ali laughed.

Mia nudged her shoulder.  "So... tell me what you're thinking."  When Ali raised her brows in question, Mia elaborated, "About all this."  She waved her arms encompassing the room.

If Ali looked at the big picture—the trouble Garrett must have gone through to set the whole thing up—she found it hard to hold onto her anger.  She really did love the big ass.

Ali sighed.  "He meant well, and the extent he went through to pull this off, it was sweet.  Makes it hard to stay upset."

Mia nodded, agreeing.  "I don't think he realized how much your thoughts had snowballed.  I'd cut the guy some slack.  Actions speak louder than words and by the look of this," she again waved her arms, "he loves you to distraction."

The wedding planner called to them from across the room.  Mia gave her another smile in the mirror.  "You ready to become Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Evans?"

Grabbing Mia's hand, Ali gave it a squeeze.  "Let's do this."

≈≈≈≈

The large banquet room Serena led them to was full of people.  Ali recognized the faces of family and friends, sitting in rows, creating a makeshift aisle.  Looked like everyone had been in on the surprise but her and Mia.

Mia stood by her side ready to walk with her down the aisle.  Emma and Noah—who upon Ali's arrival had excitedly gushed about Daddy's big surprise for her— stood in front of them, looking adorable in a pink fru-fru dress and mini tux.

And waiting at the far end of the aisle, was her husband.  Standing tall, looking incredibly handsome in a tux, Garrett had his eyes trained on her.  She could feel the heat of his stare even from so far away.

Music started, the traditional wedding march, and all eyes in the room turned her direction.  Her kids took a forward step, and Ali followed as they made the slow trek to the waiting groom and officiant who stood by his side.

Mia veered off and took a seat in the front row next to her husband, Mark.  Noah took his place beside his father and Emma stayed at Ali's side.

Garrett reached for her hand, entwining their fingers and pulled her close.  He leaned down, whispering in her ear, "I'm so fucking sorry.  I know toward the end my actions seemed suspicious, but I couldn't find a way to reassure you without ruining the surprise.  You mean the world to me, and I don't want you to ever doubt that.  I love you so damn much."

Ali tipped her head back, saw the sincerity in his eyes, and hers filled.  "I love you, too."  She gave him a watery smile and giggled.  "Remind me to tell you the story of my escapades, someday."

He gave her a small grin.  "I'm not sure I want to know."  His eyes traveled the length of her.  "You look absolutely ravishing."

Ali gave him a slow smile.  "You look pretty good, yourself."  She looked around.  "I can't believe you did all this."  Shaking her head, still a little dazed, she continued, "Why did you do all this?"

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, then spoke at her temple, "That, you'll find out in a minute."

The officiant cleared his throat.  "Family and friends, we are gathered here today for the vow renewal ceremony of Garrett and Alison Evans.  The couple will be reciting their own vows.  Mr. Evans."  The minister tipped his head Garrett's direction.

Garrett took one of Ali's hands in his then turned them to face their audience.  "As most of you know, Ali and I met in college."  He swung his gaze to her.  "I couldn't keep my hands off her—some things never change."  A smirk played on his lips as their guests laughed.

When the laughter died down, he turned back to the audience and continued, "As a result, we ended up with an unexpected surprise.  I was a pushy bastard, even back then, and I dragged Ali to Vegas for a quickie wedding.  She never once complained, not then," he looked at Ali, his expression serious and full of love, "not now.

"Fast forward seven years."  He turned and captured both of her hands, so they now faced each other.  "You asked me to turn the spare room downstairs that we used for storage into a playroom for the kids."

Ali smiled.  "I was tired of looking at their mess all over the house and wanted a place to contain it."

Garrett nodded.  "What you didn't know, I found a box of your childhood things."

Ali frowned wondering where this little story was going.  She didn't have long to find out.

"In the box was an old diary."  He gave her hands a squeeze.  "And I'm not ashamed to admit, I took a peek."

Ali felt her cheeks grow hot, and she knew her face must be flaming.  Oh, God, she remembered what diary he was talking about because she'd only ever had one.  Back in tenth grade, her then best friend who had been an avid diary writer, had insisted she start one.  Not knowing what one put in a diary, she'd written about all her fifteen-year-old hopes, fantasies, and dreams.  How embarrassing.

"And in that diary—among other things I won't mention but will forever be ingrained in my head," the audience laughed again, "was a detailed description of your dream wedding."  He took a step closer, regret filling his eyes.  "A wedding I denied my beautiful, loving, and sexy-as-hell wife."  He raised their joined hands and kissed the backs of hers.  "A wedding so meticulously planned even your clueless husband could follow along."

Ali looked around the room with new eyes.  She noticed her favorite flowers in large vases scattered around the room, and the colors her fifteen-year-old self had loved were prominently displayed.  Her eyes swiftly zeroed in on Mia.  Horror filled her then laughter bubbled up her chest as it became clear why she wore a tacky, pink dress.  Ali smiled at her best friend, hoping to impart the love she felt for her in that moment.

The smile she received in return spoke volumes.  She understood.

Garrett let go of her hands and turned to their son.  He bent down and whispered something to him before Noah handed him a small square box.

Turning back to Ali, he picked up her right hand.  "I know you and knew you wouldn't want to part with your original wedding ring however small the diamond is."

Ali shook her head vigorously and giggled through her tears.

"Right.  So I settled on an anniversary ring."  He let go of her hand and raised the lid of the box, revealing a gorgeous band encrusted with diamonds and topped with a princess-cut ruby—her favorite stone.

More tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at Garrett.  "I love it."

Garrett slipped the ring on her finger.  "I love you."  Then he cleared his throat and spoke in a loud, clear voice.  "This ring is a symbol of my endless love for you.  May I never give you cause to doubt it again."

Then his lips were on hers, searing her with a kiss that filled her heart and curled her toes.

"Daddy, we're not to the kissing part yet.  Mommy still needs to talk, and the church man needs to say, you may kiss the bride."

Ali chuckled against her husband's lips at her son's words, and their guests erupted in laughter.

Garrett leaned away from Ali and looked over at Noah.  "Sorry, little man, I couldn't help myself.  Your mommy looks too pretty."

Noah beamed up at him, Garrett's transgression clearly forgiven.

The officiant cleared his throat.  "Mrs. Evans, you may proceed."

In a panic, her eyes flew to Garrett, and he immediately came to her rescue.  "Everyone knows I sprung this on you.  It wouldn't look bad if you didn't say anything."

Ali shook her head.  "No, I want to.  It just took me by surprise."  Her lips twitched.  "Seems to be a reoccurring theme today."

Little creases formed by Garrett's eyes as his lips pulled into a smile.

Ali took a deep breath.  She had no idea what to say so blurted the first thing that popped into her head.  "I'm really happy you're not having an affair."

She realized her joke fell flat when Garrett lost his smile and a frown line formed between his eyes.  "I have never wanted anyone but you.  Never loved anyone but you.  You are the reason I was put on this earth.  Without you, there is no me, so baby, I would never do anything to take you away from me."

More tears fell, making Ali hope the makeup artist had used waterproof mascara or she was sure to look like a raccoon by now.  Standing before Garrett, seeing his love for her shining in his eyes, made her wonder how she ever doubted that love.  She gave him a look she hoped conveyed all her love in return.

Clearing the emotion from her throat, she said, "I know what I want to say now."  Garrett moved his hands back down to her hips.  "When we first met, you swept me off my feet, and I fell in love with you with the first smile you gave me.  I wanted to be Mrs. Evans so badly, I didn't care how the goal was achieved so long as it happened.  I never once regretted our hasty wedding."  She reached up cupping his face as he had hers.  "When it comes to you, I've never regretted anything."

Garrett captured her wrists, pulling her hands from his face before turning to the minister.  "Can you say the magic words now, please."

The officiant had a smile in his voice as he said, "You may now kiss the bride."

And then Garrett did.

Boy, did he ever.

≈≈≈≈

The party was in full swing, and Ali was having a blast.  Garrett hadn't left her side once.  The light reflected off the stone of her new ring whenever she took a sip from her glass of champagne, and she couldn't help but smile at it every damn time.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," Jade, Lucas's wife, said as she, with a toddler on her hip and Lucas on her arm, walked up to her and Garrett.

Ali laughed.  "I'm sure it was one of a kind."  Her eyes moved to Lucas.  "Were you in on the shenanigans, too?"

He gave her a smirk, not looking the least bit contrite.  "I was in charge of defending the office."

Ali heard Jade gasp before her shouted, "Lucas St. James!"

Lucas looked down at his petite wife, raising a brow.  "Yes?"

Not intimidated, she informed, "Lucky for you, I'm holding our son."

Lucas leaned in closer to his wife and said suggestively, "You won't be holding him tonight.  Should I be worried then?"

"Tonight I'll be holding something else you'll need to be worried about."

Lucas tipped his head back and laughed, and Garrett said, "And that's our cue to leave."  He gave Lucas a slap on his shoulder.  "Good luck tonight, my friend."

Garrett plucked the champagne flute from Ali's hand and handed it to a passing waiter.  "Come dance with me."

He didn't need to ask her twice.

 

Bodies pressed closely together, her head resting on her husband's chest, swaying to the beat of a slow, love song, Ali had never felt more content.

"I have another surprise for you."  Her husband's rich baritone voice crooned in her ear.

Ali lifted her head and grimaced at Garrett's mischievous expression.  "I'm not sure I can handle any more surprises."

His expression turned contrite.  "I am truly sorry, baby.  When I first set this whole thing in motion, I had no idea that's where your mind would go."

She moved her arms from around his waist to around his neck so she could lean up on her toes and brush her lips to his.  "I know.  But one good thing did come from it, though."

Garrett raised a brow.  "What good could have possibly come from you thinking I was cheating on you?"

She twined her fingers through the short hair at the back of his head.  "It reminded me not to take our love for granted.  I think when people have been married for a while—getting stuck in the day-to-day things that make up a marriage—they forget the most important thing."

"And what's that?"

"Why they married that person in the first place."

"And did it remind you of why you married me?"

"Yeah, because you knocked me up."

Garrett tipped his head back and laughed.  "Yeah, and I did that proudly."

Ali turned serious and said, "And also because you're my soul mate.  The other half of my whole."

Garrett placed his lips on hers and mumbled, "The yin to your yang?"

"The Bert to my Ernie," she mumbled back.

Garrett's chuckle vibrated her lips.  "Someone's been watching too much Sesame Street again."

She didn't get the chance to reply because he chose that moment to deepen their kiss, his tongue sliding down the length of hers, while his fingers tangled in her hair, loosening it from its confines.  His kisses were like a drug—addictive and they made her feel so good.

After a few more spins around the dance floor, she remembered to ask, "So what's the next surprise?"

"There's one last thing I neglected to give you seven years ago."

Ali thought for a moment but came up blank.  Shaking her head, she asked, "What?"

"A honeymoon."

≈≈≈≈

Garrett sat, lounging in the recliner, his dick growing unbearably hard as he watched his wife slowly walking up the steps, rising out of the pool.  Hair slicked back.  Water droplets shimmering on lightly tanned, smooth skin and sliding between the swells of her full, rounded tits.  Nipped in waist, slightly rounded stomach, and flared hips.  Killer fucking legs.  She was any man's wet dream.

And she was all his.

God, he'd really screwed the pooch with the whole wedding thing.  When he'd first found her diary and saw the wedding she'd dreamed about as a teen and knowing he'd gypped her out of the experience, his only thought had been to make her dream come true.  Never in a million years had he thought his sneaking around and deceptions would lead her to believe he was having an affair, although in hindsight he supposed he should have.  After all, if the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have suspected the same thing.

Though he wouldn't have handled it nearly as well.

Even after he'd realized where her mind had gone, he'd thought he had waylaid her fears.  His mistake.

His thoughts were pulled back to his wife as she drew near, sauntering across the cement with a coy smile playing on her kissable lips.  "Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

He hooked a finger over the frame of his sunglasses and slid them halfway down his nose, eyeing her over the top.  "It's a dick in my shorts, and it's always happy to see you."

He loved her laugh and was treated to it now as she braced a hand on the lounger and leaned over him, water droplets falling from her onto his chest and stomach.

"Have I told you today how beautiful it is here?"

He'd rented them a house in Maui for seven days.  A day for every year they'd been married.  Not nearly long enough as far as he was concerned, but he knew his wife, and seven days away from the kids was pushing it as it was.

"And have I told you today how beautiful you are?"

"I think you may have mentioned it earlier."

"Well, let me mention it again."  He reached behind her neck and pulled the bow, untying her bikini top.  The cups fell away, exposing her tits to his greedy eyes.  "I wouldn't want to be neglectful."  He palmed her breasts, squeezing, and she leaned into his touch with a moan.

"No one would ever accuse you of being neglectful."  Her hands landed on his shoulders, and she straddled his hips, rubbing her pussy up and down his cock.

One of his hands roamed south, landing on her ass, squeezing a handful.  "You're playing with fire, baby."

She leaned into him, finding his ear before whispering, "Then let's make an inferno."

Fuck.  He didn't think he could get any harder, but her words left his dick throbbing.  Grasping her under the arms, he stood, throwing her over his shoulder.  "I think we need to cool off."

She shrieked as he tossed her into the deep end of the pool.  Not a second later, he dove in after, swimming to her side, and catching her around the waist.  Under the water, his hand found bikini bottoms, and he tugged them down her legs.  "If I recall correctly, skinny dipping had been one of your fantasies."

He saw his wife's cheeks turn pink before she buried her face in his neck.  "I can't believe you read my diary, that's so embarrassing."

He chuckled as he untied the last string on her bikini top and watched it float away.  "What a dirty, dirty mind my teenage wife had."

Ali groaned.  "Don't remind me."

He chuckled again.  "Oh, I'm not only going to remind you, but we're also going to enact every one of your fantasies while we're here."

She leaned back raising her brows.  "Every one?"

He smirked.  "I even bought a pair of handcuffs and made sure the refrigerator was stocked with whipped cream."

He watched as she licked her lips.  "And chocolate sauce?"

His smirk turned into a leer.  "Yes."

"And what about vanilla ice cream?"

His leer turned into a frown.  "That wasn't in the diary."

"Oh, I know.  I'm just really craving an ice cream sundae, now."

She kicked away from him, swimming for the steps, calling over her shoulder.  "Last one in the kitchen has to clean the dishes."

He didn't move from his spot.  Instead, he enjoyed the view as his wife ran naked across the yard and into the house.

It was definitely a sight worth doing dishes for.