I have been waiting. In this bar. In this five star restaurant. In this knockout red dress. For forty. Five. Freaking. Minutes.

There was a minute there where I thought Justin might have called. The man at the host station got a call, then asked if there was a Whitman at the bar. He kept calling for Whitman so much I almost wanted to check, and in fact I did. Did he mean Brightman, by any chance? Nope, he said. Definitely a Whitman.

Fuck. So I drank two Grey Goose martinis with a twist of lemon, and waited for my dashing husband to arrive. And I kept waiting until the happy buzz from the vodka turned into a soggy, weepy unhappiness.

I called the hotel front desk from the bar phone, and they patched me through to our room. No answer. I tried three times in a row, but nothing.

Should I be more worried than I am? God, what if Justin’s been injured? What if he took a wrong turn and ended up in the ocean? What if he’s on another island? In another dimension? What if we really went on vacation in the Bermuda Triangle?

How would that even be possible? How is any of that possible?

You know what? It’s too late now for dinner, and not late enough for another martini, and my dress is wilting and I don’t have my phone which means I can’t call Emma or play Farmville. I’m calling the hotel room one last time, and if Justin doesn’t pick up I’m heading back, ordering a big meal, and waiting in the corner of the suite with a baseball bat until he shows up as long as he’s not dead good lord what if he is what am I going to do?

First you’re going to stop acting like a drunk crazy person. That’s the first thing you can do.

Sometimes my brain is a very good thing. I head back to the bar phone. The bartender looks politely resigned as she hands it over. I dial back to the hotel, ask them to patch me through. The phone rings twice, three times, and I’m about to hand the receiver back when…someone answers.

Not just any someone. My someone. Justin.

And he sounds in bad, bad shape.

“H’lo?” He slurs a bit, like he’s waking up from a groggy sleep. At first I’m ready to read him the riot act, but then I consider. My whole body goes numb as I imagine the possibilities.

What if he was getting out of the shower, slipped, and fell and hit his head on the bathroom floor? What if some be-leid thieves broke into the hotel room, beat him up, then stole everything? What if he accidentally got into my Nyquil tablets?

I mean, that last one’s unlikely. Unless he was fumbling around in the dark, because the lights went out in an emergency blackout! An emergency blackout that only affected our suite!

That’s what happens when you’re a mom of three and anything goes wrong. You catastrophize to your heart’s content.

“Babe, are you okay?” I grip the phone cord.

“Char? Oh god,” he moans. I don’t even stop to think. I’m in full reaction mode right now. It’s like the Terminator, but with more hugs.

“Stay right where you are! I’m on my way.” I toss the phone back to the bewildered bartender and charge out the door, my heart racing. I sprint up the path to the hotel, doing damn nicely in my strappy heels. My mind spins as I run back into the lobby. Should I have called back to the hotel, had them send someone up? Only the worst kind of happening could make Justin miss our romantic evening. Something truly terrible must have gone down.

I can barely wait as the elevator crawls back up to our floor. Then I’m racing down the hall, nearly bowling over a hapless kid delivering room service. I drop the keycard twice as I try to get the door open, and finally push into the room to find…

Justin. With his coat off and his shirt unbuttoned a bit. With his hair mussed. Sitting on the bed. Looking drunk out of his gourd.

Okay, there’s something going on here. I mean international spy levels of something. My ever thoughtful, considerate husband wouldn’t think for a second of forgetting our dinner date just so he could get a load on. He’s not like that. He’s the opposite. In fact, the guy in front of me might be Justin’s doppelganger. Maybe an evil twin I never knew about.

I’m just saying, people keep secrets in marriages all the time.

“Babe. What happened?” I kneel down in front of him. He rubs his eyes and blinks hard. My stomach drops as I consider the possibilities. “Did you get a call?”

“Call?” He stares at me, like he’s trying to remember who I am. Fuck, is this like some body snatcher type deal? Like from that old movie Emma made us watch and had me cowering behind a pillow while Fraser loudly declaimed how not afraid he was and why couldn’t he have married a woman who liked romantic comedies for God’s sake?

“Yes. Call. On the phone. Like this.” I pick mine up by way of illustration. Then Justin blinks at me again, and…smiles. Like, looks as if all his dreams of world domination and perfect abs came true on the same day smile.

“Babe. Baby.” He takes me by the shoulders and pulls me to my feet before kissing me hard. It feels scratchy and tastes a lot like scotch. He takes me into his arms. “We did it.” He’s practically glowing with triumph.

“We? What? What’d we do?” Now that my initial fear is wearing off, I’m replacing it with righteous indignation. “Please tell me it was legal.”

“You are looking,” Justin says, taking a step back as he releases me, “at the head of the firm that now manages this entire resort chain.” He holds out his arms, grinning widely. “Even I didn’t understand the full size of the job until Henry offered it.”

“Who’s Henry?” I swear to God, if he snapped and Henry is his imaginary friend…

“Henry Lee. He owns everything. He’s like a god, but with better hair.” Justin flops back onto the bed, the springs screaming beneath him. He swipes a hand through his mussy hair. “Mine’s pretty good, too,” he says in drunken, amiable conversation.

“When did this happen?” I’m close to snapping, though Justin doesn’t notice.

“Just now! Well, a little while ago. I’m not sure, I was a few drinks in by then.” He blinks. “Henry wanted a couple of rounds of drinks to seal the deal. There’s this Japanese whiskey that’s.” He makes a vague gesture that looks like a duck flying. “I told him we had to make it quick, because.” He scrunches up his face, trying to remember. Then I watch as he does, and his expression drains away to horror. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“I’m so sorry. Jesus.” He rubs his eyes again, and then all the anguish melts away like that. Like it means nothing now that he and Henry are such fabulous drinking buddies. “I’ll make it up to you. With the payday from this retainer, we can get a condo out here. Hell, we can have our own private beach, and our own private five star restaurant. We can have—”

“I can’t believe you missed out on the date we were supposed to have just so you could drink your way into some stupid contract!” I am dangerously close to shouting now, and Justin stands. He wobbles a bit, but he stands.

“Charlotte.” Oh wow, he brought out his big gun ‘don’t be irrational’ voice for this. My husband is a dead man. “I had one shot at this, and I took it. Now we’re going to be rich. Do you understand? This is going to put my firm on the map, and we’re not going to have to rely on Fraser to guard my ass for me!” Now he’s close to shouting. “After I fly to Singapore in a couple of days, we can talk more about—”

“Excuse me? Singapore? The one that’s a long way away?” No Charlotte, Singapore, Wisconsin. Wake the hell up.

“Henry wants to expand into Singapore and Hong Kong, but he needs his lawyer on the ground. I’m his lawyer now. Me.” He extends his arms like a drunken, fabulously wealthy bird ready to fly away. “After I get back from that trip, we can talk. It’ll only be a week. Unless Henry needs a stopover in Hong Kong, but that should only be a few days more. Sure, the job means that I’ll be making a lot of trips to Asia, at least for the first six months. Maybe twelve. We’ll see how long it takes to get everything into place. But I’m finally doing it. I’m getting sent around the world. I’m not going to be useless.” He practically beats his chest with pride. Oh, I’d like to beat something else right now, I tell you what. My fists tighten at my sides, but I restrain myself.

“And you were going to tell me about this, when? When you finally crawled out of your new boss’s favorite bottle of whiskey? You were going to tell me about the brand new job that means you’ll see even less of your family than you already do, what? When you were halfway to Taiwan?”

Justin narrows his eyes. “This is unbelievable. I finally land a job that’s going to give us the financial stability we always dreamed of, and you have to make it about something else.” He whispers, almost to himself, “That’s typical.”

My blood, she boils. “What the hell does that mean?”

Justin waves his hand. “You always want things on your own terms. If I ever try to take initiative, you undercut me. I wanted to get a job after you got pregnant, but oh no. No, you had to do everything while I studied and took care of Sawyer.”

Am I losing my mind? Maybe that last martini hit me. “And because of that, we’re much better off now than we would have been!”

“I could have done it all for us! But no, you had to have the final say. You always do.”

Wow. This is like walking up to your favorite, beloved dog and then having that dog punch you in the face and hand over a very sarcastic note deriding your appearance. I’m not thrilled right now.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t needed so much help in the past, I wouldn’t have had to be that responsible!” I snap. “You’ve always had the women in your life to look after you. I mean, thank God Emma was there a couple of years back, or you might never have gotten out of your funk!”

Even I can sense I’ve crossed a line, but I don’t care right now. Justin’s face turns red, and the veins at his temples are standing out. He’s going to blow.

“What do you think I’m trying to do now? I succeeded, Charlotte! And now you never have to worry again, and I can feel worthwhile! Why is that so hard for you to understand?” He visibly calms himself and moves closer. “All of this is for you. You, and the kids.”

“No. It’s for you, so you can be proud and not have to rely on Fraser for everything. Making me happy was just a bonus. This whole trip was just so you can feel better about yourself!” I don’t care if this is out of line. I don’t care if there are two sides to this issue. Right now, on an empty stomach, all I can think of is another drink or three. That is a terrible idea, but I’m fresh out of good ones at the moment.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Justin snaps as I gather my wrap and my purse. As I head for the door, he comes after me. “Charlotte. Babe. Don’t do this.”

“You know, you could have sincerely apologized. But that would’ve been too much to ask,” I answer, then slam the door on my way out.