“Number twelve. Seven o’clock. I’ll be there.” The man’s gaze trailed from my face down my body, and I could feel it like a touch. “If you wear that, I’ll be too busy fighting off the guys who want to take you home to enjoy the evening.”
My mouth dropped open as he gave Benjie and me both a nod before he strode away.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Holy shit is right,” Benjie said, his voice hushed. “No way in hell would I have let you have him if I’d seen that ass first.”
*
Present day
“What can I get you to drink?”
The flight attendant’s question yanks me out of the memory. She lays cocktail napkins on the armrest between us, and I snatch one up to dab at the tear sliding down my cheek before Dane sees it.
If only I could rewind it all. I would give anything to go back to that day and make Benjie promise never to lie to me. If I’d only had some warning, maybe everything would be different now.
“Champagne, of course. We’re celebrating our second wedding anniversary,” Dane replies.
The flight attendant smiles, completely missing the note of sarcasm in his tone. “That’s so exciting. Congratulations.”
She bustles away, and I keep my voice quiet. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t get your texts.”
Dane shifts to look at me. “We already confirmed I’m last on your priority list, but I was fucking worried about you, Kat. I didn’t know if you’d been mugged or killed, or if you made it to your flight. You don’t tell me where you’re going anymore, so it’s not like it’s easy to check on you.”
Frustration underlies every word, and I can’t decide if that’s a good sign or a bad one. At least it’s not indifference. That would be worse.
I keep my tone hushed. “You’re not last on my priority list. I . . . I don’t know what happened.”
“Whatever.”
The single word continuing to pound through my head demands I ask my next question.
“Do you want it to be over?”
He doesn’t have a chance to answer before the flight attendant returns with our champagne.
“Congratulations again. Every anniversary is a little victory.”
We both thank her, and she moves on to get drinks for the rest of the first-class cabin.
I hold the champagne flute in nerveless fingers, wondering how Dane is going to reply. He turns in his seat and raises his glass to where it almost touches mine.
“We’ve got ten days to figure out if there’s still an us. I love you, Kat, but that doesn’t mean jack shit if we aren’t both willing to fight for this. You tell me on the flight home whether you’re in or you’re out. Deal?”
His ultimatum is no-nonsense, the most Dane way he could handle it.
I swallow as my stomach flips and knots. “Deal,” I whisper.
Dane clinks the rim of his glass against mine.
Chapter 3
Dane
Kat’s hand shakes as she pulls out her phone. One more check before they close the door and finally make her switch the damn thing to airplane mode. It’s an extension of her, and I spend more time staring at the top of her head than I do her face because she’s always buried in work. Even when she’s with me, she’s not present.
“Shit.” The curse comes from between her lips as a whisper.
“What?”
When she raises her fingers to squeeze the bridge of her nose, the reluctance to explain is all over her face. With her other hand, she turns the screen of the phone toward me.
“It’s been in airplane mode since my flight this morning. That’s why I didn’t get any texts.”
I don’t even know what to say to that, and instead give her a nod and toss back the rest of my champagne. It could be the last time we toast an anniversary, so I may as well enjoy it.
As soon as she flips the setting, the phone buzzes in her hand, no doubt signaling my messages. With an apologetic smile, she pulls up her e-mail and her thumbs fly.
I swear, the world could be burning down, but Kat would still find a way to ignore it and be productive. I used to be proud of her insane work ethic, but frustration edges out the pride now because it’s part of the way she’s shut me out.
Some people find their escape in a bottle, my wife escapes into her company.
Just one more thing to add to the long list of reasons why our marriage is fucked. I’m sure a shrink would say I’m projecting.
What about all your secrets?
It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell her.
She’s still tapping away even after the announcement comes that the boarding door is closed. The flight attendant pauses, one hand on the back of my seat, disapproval pinching her lips.
“Ma’am, you’ll need to switch your device into airplane mode now.”
“One second. I just need to send—” She cuts off her words in favor of finishing typing.
The flight attendant waits a few beats, as though she’s heard this a dozen times. God knows I have.
Kat drops the phone into her lap and holds her hands in the air. “See. Done. Off.”
The flight attendant meets my gaze. “You’ve got your work cut out for you getting this one to relax on vacation, I bet.”
“You have no idea,” I tell her.
Forty minutes later, we’re somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico. I want to reach over and lay my hand on Kat’s fidgeting fingers to get her to chill, but I don’t. She may be my wife, but right now that label feels hollow.
I choose a new playlist, one more suited to a punishing workout than a first-class flight to paradise.
In my peripheral vision, Kat adjusts her earbud and reaches for her coffee spiked with Baileys. It’s her second, and I wonder if now that her stimulant of choice—work—is gone, she’ll find something to fill the void rather than deal with the ultimatum I’ve thrown down.
I won’t take it back.
If it’s the only way I can break down the wall between us, I’ll do it. This week is hell for me too, even though she doesn’t have a clue why.
You have to tell her.
Right, like it would be so easy to explain why I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. Twice. That’ll go over great.