Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“We’ll get along fine,” Mom assures her with only a little annoyance. Sabrina can get kind of high-strung about this stuff.
The closer we’ve gotten to our trip, the more intense Sabrina has become about planning for Jamie’s routine. Our house in plastered with sticky notes reminding Mom where stuff is and when Jamie’s bedtime is and whatnot. It’s a lot. Thankfully, my mother is taking it in stride.
“This isn’t our first rodeo. Right, kiddo?” My mother ruffles Jamie’s dark red hair and gazes down adoringly at her granddaughter. Mom loves this kid as much as we do. Maybe even more. I mean, hell, she relocated from Texas to Boston to be near us, this woman who hates the winter. Like, loathes it.
“Where’s all her stuff?” Sabrina asks me after noticing Jamie’s accessories are gone.
“She wanted to share with her friends. Mom can take her shopping for more.”
Her frown tells me she isn’t satisfied with that answer, but the kid’s falling asleep in her fruit and veggie plate, so Sabrina picks her up, and I follow them down the hall toward Jamie’s room.
“I don’t think Gail’s heard a word I’ve said all morning,” Sabrina whispers, tucking Jamie into bed.
I fight a smile. “They’ll be fine, darlin’. They always have fun together.”
“For one night. But ten days is a long time. This was a bad idea.” Sabrina bites her lower lip. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I know what I was thinking. I was thinking we’ve been married for a month, and I haven’t been able to properly fuck my wife because little ears hear everything that goes on in this apartment. And Sabrina won’t let me lock our bedroom door because she has nightmares about Jamie trying to run in to warn us the house is on fire and not being able to. Like she’s a golden retriever. I’ve been good at not voicing my frustrations, though, because I know how difficult the months leading to graduation have been for Sabrina, especially when she had to juggle law school with motherhood. She works so hard to be superwoman, it feels wrong dumping my shit on her too.
“Come here.” Outside Jamie’s room, I pull her into my arms and sweep her dark hair away from her face.
I stand there, momentarily mesmerized by her bottomless dark eyes.
“What?” she asks, smiling at me.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “You’re beautiful, you know that? We hardly get five minutes to ourselves these days. I think I keep forgetting how gorgeous you are.”
Sabrina rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”
“Seriously. Fucking gorgeous. And this isn’t a bad idea. You need this trip, darlin’. You’ve barely had a single day off in years. Same goes for me.” I shrug. “We need this.”
“Do we?” She’s still stressing.
“Absolutely we do. Sun and sand and sleeping in as late as we want,” I remind her.
It sounds like heaven saying it out loud. Ten days in St. Barth’s at Dean’s family vacation home. The plane tickets courtesy of Mom’s wedding present. It’s going to be the perfect cocktail for rest, relaxation, and generally screwing Sabrina’s brains out because having a tiny human running around this place has been a nonstop cockblock. Like, I love the kid, but Mommy and Daddy need to do dirty things to each other.
“Trust me,” I assure her. “It’ll be magical.”
She arches an eyebrow. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. You might not want to overpromise.”
“Ha. If anything, I’m under-promising.” I take her around the waist and bend down to kiss her.
Sabrina kisses me back, then pulls away and draws a breath. She closes her eyes. Exhales. “You’re right. We deserve a getaway. This’ll be good.”
It’s become a mantra. Convincing herself to take some time away, that her world won’t collapse if she does. While planning this trip, she’s careened from excitement to dread at least six times a day. If I can get her out the front door, I’ll consider it a win.
23
Sabrina
Day 1
Tucker started plying me with wine at the airport bar. In the air, he doesn’t let a flight attendant walk by without asking for another glass of champagne to shove in my hand. Not that I’m complaining. I admit leaving Jamie was more difficult than I imagined, but he’s right: she’s in good hands with Gail. And if anything goes wrong, it’s a short flight home. We’ll survive.
“I saw you staring at her shoes, Harold.”
“I swear to God, Marcia, I have never noticed a woman’s shoes.”
“Don’t patronize me. I know what you’re into, you pervert.”
The middle-aged couple in front of us in first class, however, might not last the flight.
“I’m Team Marcia,” Tucker leans in to whisper at my ear. “He’s up to some shady foot stuff.”
“No way. This is her kink, not his. She likes to start public fights with him to keep the spark alive.”