Something is wrong with Trick, but I don’t know what. His obsession with sketching me is going too far. He won’t let me see it. He won’t come out of that damn bedroom except to shower and go to the bathroom. He’s even slept in there for the past five nights. I’ve turned into his personal maid—doing laundry and catering food to “his” room. The motorcycle ride? Never happened. Sex? Haven’t had that either, and I refuse to stand outside his door naked again looking like I’m begging for it.

I still haven’t looked for a job. Declan keeps me busy in the afternoons tutoring him. He insists on paying me, and although I try to refuse, he won’t take no for an answer. I value his friendship along with Wes, Colby, and even Mallory’s to a certain extent. I’ve had dinner with them now two different nights, without my husband, and I’ve spent several mornings watching them surf. They’re all really good at it. I enjoy feeling like their equal and I know telling Declan that it’s ridiculous to pay me because I don’t need the money would taint that. So I conveniently use the money to buy more snacks and drinks and contribute to the meals we have together.

This morning I have to do a double take when Trick comes down the stairs before I have a chance to finish making breakfast and leave a plate outside his door.

“Morning.” He smiles and kisses me on the top of my head.

“Good morning. Breakfast?” I hold out his plate.

“Nah, I’ll eat when I get back.”

“Back?”

He grabs the key to his motorcycle. “I need a few supplies.”

“O-kay.” I set the plate down. “Trick?”

He stops with his back to me.

“What’s going on?”

“Noth—”

“And don’t say nothing! That’s all I’ve heard over the past week!”

“We’ll talk later.” He continues out the door.

My appetite dissolves, engulfed by my anger. As soon as I hear him speed off, I run upstairs and turn the knob. It’s locked. Of course it is.

I hurry to my bathroom and find a hairpin. It’s a simple push lock so it easily opens. I expect to see an easel, sketch pad, or something, but there’s nothing. Opening the closet, I rummage through everything.

Nothing.

I sigh with my hands fisted on my hips. Dropping on all fours I look under the bed.

Nothing.

Sitting back on my heels, I feel a pang of defeat mixed with anger, until my eyes focus on the corner of something sticking out between the mattress and box springs. I tug on the corner, sliding out a large sketch pad. The first page is blank, and the second, and the third. My frustration grows as I flip through each empty page with impatience.

Oh. My. God.

On the back page is a sketch of a woman … a naked woman and it’s not me. My breaths come quicker as panic and anger overtake my entire body. He lied to me. Why would he lie to me? Who is this woman? This. Naked. Woman.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but I can’t even stand up. My legs feel numb from sitting on them for so long and my eyes are glued to her. The jealousy of knowing he’s been spending every waking hour, and many while I’ve been sleeping, drawing her … thinking about her … fantasizing about her. I think I would feel less cheated on if he’d spent an hour in a cheap hotel with a hooker.

“Darby …” His normal, strong voice floats through the air with an edge of caution—a hint of vulnerability.

I don’t turn to look at him. I can’t. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know.”

I laugh—the alternative is too painful. “Brilliant. You don’t know. She’s pretty fucking detailed for you to not know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Two words that are supposed to be a white flag, a concession of wrong doing, the catalyst to a truce—those two words unnerve me. They are the last two words I want to hear. We haven’t even come close to a surrender. I hate him for thinking he can throw out those two fucking words! One of the worst feelings is when “I’m sorry” feels like a slap in the face.

I glare at him. “What are you sorry for? Lying to me? Ignoring me? Fucking cheating on me!” I heave the sketch pad in his direction.

“I didn’t lie.” His gaze slips.

My eyes widen. “You told me you were drawing me!”

He shakes his head. “I told you I was trying to draw you.”

“You and your stupid semantics.” I stand, blood relieving the tingling in my legs as I point to the sketch pad by his feet. “Has it ever occurred to you that what you don’t say says a hell of a lot more than what you do say?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did you? Why have you spent all this time drawing her instead of being with me? Are you going to sell this? Is this our rent money?”

He shakes his head, defeat written all over his face, slumped posture. “I had to draw her.”

“Why?” I whisper, defeat pulling me under.

“Because she’s part of my past that my subconscious is sharing with my hands. I feel like my brain is trying to remember, but … I just can’t.”

I wipe away a few tears. “Why is she naked?”

He shrugs. “It’s just the image I have of her,” he whispers, head bowed, no eye contact.

I step past him.

“Darby?”

I don’t stop. He can’t say anything that will make this right, not now. When things start to crumble they can’t be put back together until the debris settles. Right now … I’m still crumbling.

I walk up the beach until I see our neighbors catching their morning waves. Declan wades to shore and holds up a friendly hand, heading toward me.

“Good morning.”

I force a smile. “Hey. How’s the water?”

“Amazing. When am I going to get you out here?”

“I don’t surf.”

“Well, there’s always a first time.”

“Maybe.”

“Are we still on for today?”

I nod. “Yeah, same time?”

“Sure, or you can come a little early and we can grill out lunch.”

“We’d love to.”

I freeze from the sound of Trick’s voice as Declan focuses his attention behind me.

“Hey, Trick! Finally came out of your cave, huh?”

“I did.” His words are clipped.

Declan’s forehead wrinkles with confusion. I’m sure he can feel the iciness between me and Trick even with the sun shining on us. “So … lunch for six today?”

I force yet another smile and give him a slow nod.

“Great, see you in about an hour.” He jogs off toward the rest of the group.

“Come.”

I dig my feet farther into the sand. “I’ll come when I’m damn good and ready.”

“You’ll see your boyfriend soon enough. For now you need to come home with your husband.”

I find my feet in seconds, toe to toe with him. “I’m going to forget you said that because I. Love. You. I’ve been helping Declan study. Period! The difference between us is I would rather be with you. I choose you, even when you break my fucking heart.” I pivot, trudging my way back to the house.

I lock myself in our room for the next hour and thankfully Trick lets me be. The visit to the beach was to once again lay claim to me … another pissing contest, only Declan doesn’t get it. He acknowledges I’m a married woman and shows no interest in me beyond friendship. Why my egomaniac husband can’t see that is beyond me. For someone who shows insane talent for recognizing detail, he only sees what he wants to see when it comes to me.

When my hour is up, I breeze past Trick in the kitchen and head out the front door. He catches up to me before I reach the path to Declan’s. Without saying anything, he takes my hand. I don’t squeeze back; instead, I let my fingers fall limp in his, like a child not wanting to hold their parent’s hand across the street.

“Welcome!” Colby says with a huge grin as we walk up the back stairs.

Declan and Wes flip the fish on the grill and Mallory jumps up, still wearing her bikini.

“Hey, Trick. Haven’t seen you at yoga lately.” She adjusts the ties to her top, hiking up her cleavage.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” He smiles, and I don’t look at him long enough to see if he’s focused in on the Weiner Mobile. Mallory’s rack will probably be the next thing his hand just has to draw.

“You finish the picture of Darby?” Wes asks while cracking open a beer.

“Yes, I’m done with my drawing.”

Drawing. More of his sneaky semantics.

“So what do you think, Darby?” Colby asks.

There’s no need to look at Trick. I can feel his body go rigid next to mine.

“It’s … unexpected.” I plaster on a fake smile.

“Can’t wait to see it.” Wes adds.

“It’s a nude.” My plastered smile doesn’t flinch. I shrug. “But it’s really amazing, incredible detail. I wouldn’t mind you having a look if it’s okay with Trick.”

All eyes shift to Trick. “It’s personal.” The slipping of control vibrates in his tone.

“That’s cool.” Colby pats Trick on the shoulder. “Well, we’re just glad you finished up and could join the party.”

We eat lunch and listen to our neighbors chat about surfing, drinking, and occasionally school. I act engaged with their conversation, but Trick has more trouble playing the part. What we don’t do is acknowledge each other. Mallory seems to be the only one with suspicion in her eyes. Probably because she’s so in tune to every move Trick makes. I can see why she and Colby are still in the engagement stage—he’s oblivious to her blatant, wandering eyes.

“If you two want to spend the afternoon together I’m pretty much caught up on studying so …”

I say, “I’ll stay.” At the same time Trick says, “We would.” The awkwardness thickens to the point of suffocation.

Declan’s eyes pinball between us. If there was any uncertainty if the newlyweds are getting along, there isn’t now. I drop my façade and walk down the beach, slipping off my sandals.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll check with you tomorrow, Declan.”

The rest of the group hollers their goodbyes. I don’t have to look back to know Trick is making quick strides to catch up.

He grabs my hand. “How nice of you to choose your husband over your student.”

I yank my hand from his. “Really? Are you sure that’s what you’re going with? The husband card? Well guess what? The husband card has been denied, just like the wife card was denied for the past week. I’m tired of you pissing on me to prove a point to Declan. He’s not trying to get into my pants. He’s not trying to steal me away from you, and he’s definitely not locked up in his room drawing me NAKED!”

Another out-of-my-skin moment. There should be a sense of pride from not playing the Darby the Doormat role, but I’m not confrontational by nature, except occasionally with my father. I love Trick, and I even love his protective side, but I don’t care for the side that doesn’t trust me.

“I’m not cheating on you,” he says with an unsteady defeat in his voice.

“Yeah? Well I’m not cheating on you either, and I’m not shutting you out of my life. I haven’t done anything to lose your trust.”

“I trust you I just don’t trust—”

“No! Declan has done nothing wrong. When you act crazy jealous for no good reason, all it says to me is that you don’t trust me, not Declan!” I continue stomping my way home.

I know he doesn’t see the difference. All that’s probably going on in his head is the jealousy I’ve shown when women have groped him. But Declan has never once said or done anything inappropriate. If he did then Trick would have my blessing to put him in his place.

As I walk in our back door my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie. Is … everything okay?” Tamsen’s soothing voice dampers my temper.

“Fine.” Then it hits me. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just checking in that’s all.” She’s doing a terrible job at feigning innocence.

“You must know about the picture, huh?”

Silence.

Just as Tamsen starts to speak, Trick walks in the back door, watching me with cautious apprehension.

“Um … yes, I did hear about it.” I can envision the grimace on her face.

“I just saw it this morning. He’s very talented.” I don’t back down from Trick’s gaze. He obviously told her and or Grady about it, so we might as well all have a discussion about it.

“You’re upset and you have every right to be. I haven’t seen it. Grady told me about it and I can’t believe Trick lied to you.”

“Oh he didn’t. It was me. It’s always me misunderstanding what he’s saying. He was trying to draw me.” I cock my head to the side, glaring at him. “Now that I think about it, he’s not that talented after all, because the drawing doesn’t look anything like me. I guess we should consider it an epic failure.”

“He loves you. I’m not condoning his behavior, but I know he loves you and his biggest fear is losing you to the reality of his past. He’s lost everything that’s mattered to him, including part of his memory.”

I hear her words, I really do. More than that, I feel her words. I know in time I’ll realize my reaction is more from pain than anger, but I’m not there yet. I’m still crumbling.

“I know.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let you go. I love you, sweetie. I love you both, and I know you’ll get past this. Okay?”

“Thanks, Tamsen. Love you too.”

I press End and set my phone down, letting my eyes follow it. Trick rests his hand over mine. Just his touch squeezes my heart to the point of pain.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I need to be angry, and hurt, and irrational … just for a while.” I look up at him with tears in my eyes. “Can you give me that much?”

There’s so much pain in his eyes as he nods. “Come.” He grabs our shoes and leads me outside to the carport. He does his signature hair twist, pulls on my helmet, and I nearly cry from his touch as he palms my ass bringing me closer.

God, I need his touch.

We sail off into the warm breeze and this is exactly what I need—no words, just the comfort of his nearness that I’ve been so lonely without over the past week. With each passing mile, my arms tighten around him and I begin to feel the heaviness in my heart lifting, falling behind with the wind. Our connection is indisputable. My love for him is haunting … I’ve crossed this line and there’s no going back. We ride for what seems like hours, and I wonder if he fears the loss of my touch when we get home the way I do his.

Eventually we arrive home; we can’t run forever. Trick shuts off the engine. He removes his helmet then takes mine. As I begin to walk toward the house, he grabs my arm with a gentle hold, turning me around. His hands go straight into my hair. I close my eyes and feel his breath over my face.

“Wife.”

I release a breath and the last of my anger because I no longer need it. “Husband,” I whisper just as his lips touch mine.