Back to You (9 page)

None of that shit mattered. Mia was the kind of girl you didn’t let slip through your fingers and I wasn’t about to let something like barely being legal stop me from making her mine forever. So as soon as I’d saved up enough funds—and begged Dad to cash in some of my savings bonds from when I was a kid—I went and picked out a ring fit for a princess. Fit for
my
princess. It was one of my most thrilling days to date. To be able to tell the world—well, the little bubble of
our
world that surrounded us at college—that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with this one, perfect, incredible girl. Love made us do crazy things, but I was the type that trusted love. I allowed the emotion to make decisions for me and I had not one single regret. Not one!

Regrets.
God, the only one that comes to mind is a masseuse named Samantha. What was I even thinking? One stupid night, one stupid mistake and look at the domino effect. My one and only regret caused Mia to make her own as well.
Fucking regrets!
And now I can’t get Frank Sinatra, singing
My Way,
out of my head!
Regrets—I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention.
That damn tune will keep me up all night!

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Mia asks as she fluffs the pillow underneath her head, interrupting Frank’s mental crooning.

Instead of dwelling on it, I try to keep the mood light by jumping into bed next to her. I shimmy under the blanket and curl it around us in a spooning-cocoon. “Let’s see… tomorrow. First we have lots and lots of sex, then we have some more and… oh yeah, I booked the winery tour too. Hey maybe we can have sex
in
the vineyard!”

Mia giggles, her tone is musical and her head nuzzles into the crook of my arm. “I like the sound of all of that. I can’t wait.”

“Me either. Especially the sex part.”

“What a surprise,” she says with a yawn.

“Uh oh, guess we can’t start the party early, huh?” I ask, my hand already venturing between her legs.

She grabs my wrist, pulling my hand out of her pants. “Dec, it’s like two in the morning. It’s been a long day. A long
wonderful
day, but I gotta sleep, especially if you want me to be of any use to you tomorrow.”

I swing the blanket off us with over exaggerated effort. “Fine! But tomorrow I will put you to use, woman. Many, many times.”

She lets out another yawn, followed by a room-brightening smile. “Many, many, many. Promise.”

“Night, babe.”

“Night. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She’s out before I can even count to ten. And I’m up for another hour or two trying to get that fucking song out of my head.

Sleeping in late, up-against-the-wall shower sex, and putting my makeup on without a pint-sized lipstick thief attached to my leg like a leech—I’d say this morning has started off just swimmingly.

I put the finishing touches on my carefree, natural look—if only a man understood the lengths we go to pull off au naturale—and smile at my reflection in the mirror. Tucking an unruly strand of hair behind my ear, Declan creeps up behind me and wraps his arms around my middle.

“Flawless. Perfectly flawless,” he revels.

If only that were true. I’m far from flawless. The makeup hides the subtle imperfections on my face, but I’m not sure there’s anything fit to mask the flaws that mar me deep within. I hush the nagging voices in my head and tell them to take a hike. I want to enjoy this day. I was ordered to do so by the man enveloping me in his warmth. I owe him that much.

“Thank you, babe. You look pretty snazzy yourself. Is this your special wine tasting attire?”

He takes a step back, smoothing out his shirt and flicking up the collar of the bright colored polo. “Yuppie enough for you?”

I laugh, running my hands through his neatly combed hair. “Mess this up a little and you’ve turned from sexy yuppie to sexy preppy.”

“Not sure there’s much of a difference, but whatever you say.” He shakes his head so that his hair falls free of its gelled state.

“You look hot. You know it, so shush. I shouldn’t have to feed your ego after all these years.”

He inches closer to me, cupping my shoulders in his grip and making small circles against my skin with his thumbs. “That’s where you’re wrong. I will always
need
you to feed my ego and never tire of you telling me how much I turn you on.”

“Ha!” I let out a squeak. “Funny how that’s what you took from that, but… yes, Mr. Murphy, you still make me weak in the knees, even in your yuppie gear.”

In one swift motion he lifts me up and places my rear on the bathroom countertop. “Now, that’s what I like to hear!” he growls, nipping soft bites along my neck.

I wrap my legs around his torso and give into the moment, but just as I tilt my head so my mouth can find his, we’re interrupted by a loud car horn.

“Shit! That must be the shuttle.” He unlocks my ankles from behind his back, running his hands all the way up to my thighs and leaving me aching for more. “It pains me to say it, but this will have to wait ‘till later,” he says it with a frown fit for a sullen little boy. Adorable. We’ve had sex more times in the last few days then we have since we’ve gotten back together. He’s insatiable. All because of me. That makes me smile.

“Don’t worry, baby. Not too much later,” I hum, stroking the thick bulge that’s formed in his Dockers. “We’re gonna christen that vineyard.”

It was Mia’s idea to take the shuttle so that we could both enjoy the wine tour and not have to worry about sobering up to drive back to the house. It seemed like a stellar idea at the time, but now, sharing this cramped, smelly, van-like vehicle with three other couples—let me rephrase that: three other
weird
couples—I’m wishing we’d taken our own car.

Mia sidles closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Call me a snob, but I’ve tried to avoid small talk with our solo-vacation intruders for the last fifteen minutes. That is until Mr. Body Builder and his Gucci-toting wife strike up a conversation.

“So, have ya’ll been here before?” the bleach blonde asks while scanning me and Mia and the other two couples.

Mia answers first, “Nope. This is our first time here. It’s our anniversary.”

Everyone, including the bulky too-tan mammoth sitting next to his trophy wife, lets out an
“awwwww”
in unison.

Bleach Blonde continues with the questions, “How long ya’ll married? I’ll bet it’s only a year… ya’ll are so young lookin’.”

Mia lets out a tiny laugh, huffing though her nose. “Well, thank you, I’d like to think we
are
still young, but we’re celebrating five years.”

Blondie clasps her hands together and looks over to her own husband. “Oh, Daddy, just like us! And it looks like they’re still in the honeymoon stages too.” She gives her brawny husband a peck on the cheek and he lets out a grunt. Can’t tell if that’s a positive thing or not.

The older couple ping-pong looks between me and Mia and then Gucci and Daddy.
Yeah, lady, other than the five year thing, we have nothing in common.
Still mentally appraising us, the plump woman clutches her fanny pack and says, “We’ve been married almost thirty. Our kids sent us on this trip for Steven’s birthday. The big six five,” she gloats, tapping big Steve on the shoulder. “You have any little ones?”

The blonde jumps right in with her irritating southern drawl, “Nah. Not yet. Me and Daddy wanna see the world before we tie ourselves down to lil’ ones. Just last month we went on one of those African safari thingies. Mosquitos up the wazoo, but what an experience! Next, we’re doin’ a European cruise for the holidays. I can’t wait to eat a real Italian pizza!” She enunciates Italian wrong—making the I long instead of short. It actually hurts my ears. But her eyes glass over with enthusiasm as she drones on about her plans. I won’t lie—I can’t help feel a little envious.

“What about you two?” she asks, nudging Mia with her elbow. “You’d make gorgeous lil’ ones… with his eyes and your complexion… holy molasses they’d be just stunnin’.”

Mia tangles her fingers in mine and then answers, “Yes. We have two little girls. Cara’s four and Charlie—
Charlotte
—is two. They’re home with their grandparents. I actually kinda miss them,” she admits, looking to me for approval.

“
Ohmygoodness!
Two little girls under the age of five? Ya’ll are nuts! I’m too selfish to share big Daddy with babies yet. I like our freedom and being able to just pick up and go wherever, whenever we want.”

The quiet couple stares out the window, still ignoring the conversation, but I can’t help notice an eye roll from the husband.
Yup—parents.
I can spot ‘em a mile away.

The older couple just shrugs their shoulders.

Mia tenses up, her grip on my hand tightening.

I sit back and watch as she gets her defense on.

“No, I wouldn’t say we’re nuts. My girls certainly have their moments, but I wouldn’t change a thing about when we had them or how close in age they are. Don’t get me wrong, traveling from country to country like carefree newlyweds sounds rather appealing,
but
those little girls are our lives. And you’re right—we do make stunners. They’re absolutely gorgeous!”

Don’t fuck with the Mama Bear!
I lean down to whisper in her ear, “Well played. Hopefully that shuts up Southern Barbie for the rest of the ride.”

And it does. The remainder of our trip to the winery is soundtracked by the driver pinpointing the local scenery and soft, almost-muted music coming from the tiny speakers. I think it’s country. I’ve never minded country, but I could so go for something a little more upbeat. I’ve been toying with that song that keeps coming to me in dribs and drabs and cowboy whining ain’t gonna keep it flowing.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mia finally says as her eyes travel to my foot that’s tapping to the beat I’ve started to create with my imaginary guitar.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it?” I ask, kissing her on the cheek. Before she can answer or worry that my silence has any significance, I let her know about the song. “Wanna know a secret?”

She squeezes my arm, snuggling closer. “Is it juicy?”

I laugh, because Mia loves gossip. Too bad I have nothing dirty or scandalous to feed her curiosity. “No, nothing juicy, but I think you’ll like it anyway.”

“Do tell,” she sings.

“Lyrics to this new song have been playing out in my head. An original. I think it could be pretty epic.
And
lucky for me, my beautiful wife made me my very own recording studio. When we get back from Newport I’m gonna play around down there and see what I can come up with.” The idea of writing something new excites me. In fact, something like this is exactly what I need as an outlet. This trip has been very relaxing and fulfilling so far, but after that talk Mia’s forcing us to have and once I tell her about the job offer, I know I’ll need a release… pouring it out creatively has a way of proving constructive.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, Dec. That’s exactly why I built it for you. It’s been too long since you worked your magic… I haven’t even heard one word—and I don’t want to until you’re done—but you’re right. This
is
going to be epic!”