I watched as the man I loved like a father touched the brim of his chauffeur’s hat and smiled back with an amusing touch of embarrassment.

After my dad’s suicide, my entire life was upended. In the messy years that followed, the one point of stability had been Angus, a man hired to be a driver and bodyguard but who turned out to be a lifeline instead. At a time when I felt isolated and betrayed, when even my own mother refused to believe I’d been repeatedly raped by the therapist who was supposed to help me adjust, Angus had been the one to anchor me. He never doubted me. And when I struck out on my own, he’d come with me.

As my wife’s sleek, toned legs slid out of view into the backseat of the Bentley, Angus spoke. “Let’s not muck it up this time, lad.”

My mouth twisted ruefully. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

I joined Eva, settling in as Angus rounded the car to reach the driver’s seat. I set my hand on her thigh and waited for her to look at me. “I want to take you to the beach house this weekend.”

She held her breath a moment, then released it in a rush. “My mom invited us up to Westport. Stanton’s asked his nephew, Martin, to come, and Martin’s girlfriend, Lacey—she’s Megumi’s roommate, I don’t know if you remember …. Cary will be there, too, of course. Anyway, I said we’d come.”

Wrestling with disappointment, I considered my options.

“I want us to do some family things,” she went on. “Plus, my mom wants to talk about this plan I have.”

I listened as she related her lunchtime conversation with Monica.

Eva studied my face as she finished. “She said you wouldn’t like the idea, but you’ve used the paparazzi before, when you dipped me on the sidewalk and kissed me until I couldn’t think straight. You wanted that picture out there.”

“Yes, but the opportunity presented itself, I didn’t seek it out. Your mother’s right—there is a difference.”

Her lower lip curved downward, and I revised my strategy. I wanted her involved and actively participating. That meant encouragement and acknowledgment, not roadblocks. “But you’re also right, angel. If there’s an audience for Corinne’s book, there’s a market void that needs to be filled and we should address that.”

The smile she beamed at me was its own reward.

“I was thinking we could ask Cary to take some candid photos of us this weekend,” she said. “Some moments that are more personal and casual than red carpet photo ops. We can sell the ones we like best to the media and donate the proceeds to Crossroads.”

The charitable foundation I’d established had plenty of funding, but I understood that raising money was a side benefit to Eva’s plan to mitigate the impact of Corinne’s tell-all book. Because I regretted the pain the situation was bound to cause my wife, I was prepared to support her in whatever way she needed, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight for a weekend alone with her.

“We can make it a day trip,” I suggested, beginning the negotiation at the extreme, which gave me room to whittle down. “We can spend Friday night through Sunday morning in North Carolina, then spend Sunday in Westport.”

“Go from North Carolina to Connecticut to Manhattan in a day? Are you nuts?”

“Friday night through Saturday night, then.”

“We can’t be alone like that, Gideon,” she said softly, setting her hand over mine. “We need to follow Dr. Petersen’s advice for a while. I think we need to spend some time dating, going out in public, figuring out how to take care of … issues without using sex as a crutch.”

I stared at her. “You’re not saying we can’t have sex.”

“Just until we’re married. It won’t be—”

“Eva, we’re already married. You can’t ask me to keep my hands off you.”

“I am asking.”

“No.”

Her mouth twitched. “You can’t say no.”

“You can’t say no,” I countered, my heart beginning to pound. My palms grew damp, a low-grade panic beginning to set in. It was irrational, infuriating. “You want me as much as I want you.”

She touched my face. “I sometimes think I want you more, and I’m okay with that. But Dr. Petersen’s right. We moved so fast and we’ve been hitting all the speed bumps at a hundred miles per hour. I feel like we have this little window of time when we can slow down. Just for a few weeks, until the wedding.”

“A few weeks? Christ, Eva.” I pulled away, running my hand through my hair. Turning my head, I looked out the window. My mind was racing. What did this mean? Why would she ask?

How the fuck was I going to talk her out of it?

I felt her slide closer, then curl up against me.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Weren’t you the one who brought up the benefits of delayed gratification?”