“Jeff? Did we nail it?” I’m playing this cool. I’m not about to start shouting in the corridor if Jeff tells me we took the Waldorf Astoria account. Of course, after those two separate, killer meetings this past week, I’m all but expecting it. I just need a yes, then I can call to room service for another bottle of champagne. Then I can shut the door and give Charlotte the erotic ride of her life while pouring said champagne all over—

“Sorry, buddy. Their representatives came back to me two hours ago.” Jeff’s not hiding his disappointment, and I’m mentally canceling the champagne. Son of a bitch.

“Let me guess. The firm’s too new. The account’s too large. It’s too high a risk.” I say all this through gritted teeth, because this is the sixth goddamn time I’ve heard something similar in the past six months. Jeff gives a cough that sounds like surprised laughter.

“We’re really getting good at this by now.”

I’ve been good at a number of things in my life. High school football. College internships. Best hair in the family, according to Emma. Luckiest man alive, with the most perfect wife and children. Apart from Sage’s space helmet thing, but we’re sure that’s a phase. And then two years ago, it all came crumbling down.

I lost my job. Got phased out by the other partners at my old firm.

I didn’t know what to do. And I checked out. Emotionally, physically, I was gone. I left Charlotte to deal with everything, and she ran away for a few days to her parents’ with the kids. If Emma hadn’t given me the shake up I needed, I might not have turned things around. And I did. I have a new firm of my own, perfect business cards and everything. I have a few quality clients. I’m on retainer to Fraser’s company, and that payday alone could make me comfortable for the rest of my career. Charlotte was ecstatic about it when we found out.

But damn it, I don’t want my brother-in-law taking care of my family. I want to build something with this firm, something that shows I have what it takes.

Because I became the thing that I’ve tried not to be my entire life.

I became my father. Quiet, decent, and kind of useless. The fact that he’s still got an amazing head of hair at his age is comforting, but it’s not what I need. Fuck, it’s sure as hell not what my wife needs. I know I’ve spent too many hours at the office, and been too preoccupied when I finally come home. Charlotte’s been left on her own for too long.

She needs better. She deserves better. That’s why I wanted us to take this honeymoon, to remind her that she deserves only the best that I can offer. And if I could turn the honeymoon into a celebration of a brand new, high end account, one that could match and even exceed what Fraser’s paying my firm? That would only make the whole thing sweeter.

“Yeah, Jeff. Well, we’ll try again when I get back.” I try to sound positive as he chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Boy scout. Go enjoy your damn honeymoon, will you?” He snorts. “You’re not leaving Charlotte all on her own by the pool, are you? Damn, you know those cabana boys’ll be all over her.”

“Asshole.” I can’t help grinning, though. How am I still married to Charlotte? I ask myself that every morning, but when I stood with her on the balcony just now and looked across at her…the way the sunlight hit her dark hair, the way the breeze ruffled her sun dress and flattened it against her shapely, incredible body…it was like being in college again.

Apart from the terrible meal plan. Jesus, those Sloppy Joe nights.

When I hang up with Jeff, I stand outside the door to my hotel room for a minute, trying to prime my confidence back up. I know my wife can’t still want me the way I want her. There’s no way that kind of passion can last for fifteen years on both sides. But I don’t want her to regret marrying me. After the hell we went through when I lost my job, I want to be a hero in her eyes again. Or at least, I want her to be proud. Amazed. Aroused.

All right, I really want the third one.

I open the door to find Charlotte standing in the middle of the living room, hiking a beach bag up her arm. She’s got her sunglasses on, her bathing suit at the ready with a floppy hat on her head.

“Hey. Maybe we should get a little Hawaiian sun? Pace ourselves?” She grins, and I try not to let the disappointment show. Of course she doesn’t want to climb back into bed as badly as I do. She’s a saint for even trying.

“Why not?” I take her in my arms and kiss her. “We’ve got plenty of time.”