Marriage Matters

Twenty-seven

Mary Beth fell asleep at dinner. The restaurant they picked was a busy hamburger place and the food took forever. As they waited, Mary Beth scribbled on paper place mats with a packet of crayons and sipped at an apple juice. By the time her macaroni and cheese showed up, she took a couple bites then nodded off on the table.

“Being good can be very tiring,” Chloe said, rubbing the little girl’s back.

Once Mary Beth had nodded off, Chloe and Geoff spent the meal talking about intervention methods, so that she didn’t feel so guilty about missing her review. Chloe loved watching the way Geoff bit his lip and looked to the side, thinking hard about whatever question she asked him. The more she got to know him, she realized that the tweed jackets and ascots hid a shy, thoughtful man, not some scary powerhouse psychologist, like she’d once imagined.

After dinner, Geoff scooped his daughter into his arms with a fluid motion. “Would you like to come over for a little while?” he whispered.

Chloe thought of the stacks of work waiting for her at home. “I can’t. I still have so much to do . . .”

Geoff smiled, revealing three laugh lines in his left cheek. “That’s part of the fun. You can play hooky.” The wind rifled through his hair, making it—for a split second—as unkempt as Ben’s.

Chloe thought about going back to her apartment. There, she’d have to worry about whether or not she’d bump into Ben, since things were still so incredibly awkward between them. After such a relaxing afternoon, that prospect did not sound appealing at all. “Let’s do it.”

Geoff hailed a cab and it screeched to a halt. She admired the easy way he slid in with the weight of Mary Beth in his arms. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“Thank you.” Geoff looked down at Mary Beth’s sleeping face and smiled. “I might need some help once in a while but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being a father.”

Geoff’s building was all glass and metal and very sleek. The doorman was dressed in a gray uniform and smiled at Chloe as they walked in. As the elevator pinged to a stop on Geoff’s floor, Chloe noted the pale blue carpeting of the hallway and that, somehow, everything smelled like lavender.

“This is beautiful.” Geoff’s corner unit afforded a spectacular view of the city. “And so . . . clean.”

She had kind of expected his apartment to be in shambles, with toys and clothes thrown everywhere, but it was pristine. The decorations were very masculine, all black leather and silver accents. Chloe felt like she was in a high-end furniture display room, not the home of a four-year-old.

“I have a housekeeper.” Geoff headed toward the back hallway with Mary Beth draped over his arms. “She leaves food in the fridge, picks up after Mary Beth. She’s basically my surrogate wife.”

Chloe nodded, but inside she was floored. What would that feel like, to have someone do her cooking and cleaning for her? It dawned on her that, in some respects, she knew. Ben was more than happy to cook for her, whenever she wanted. It was only recently that all that had changed.

Geoff strolled back into the room. “What’s the frown for?”

“Not a thing.” Chloe gazed down at the lights of Navy Pier. The Ferris wheel was turning, leaving a trail of golden light in its wake.

“I was thinking about what you said about our families knowing one another.” Geoff got down on his knees and considered his wine cabinet. “I had the oddest feeling that I’d met you before, when I first saw your eyes.” Looking over his shoulder, he smiled. “They’re quite memorable.”

Geoff poured them some wine and sat on the couch, patting the seat next to him. Feeling like Whiskers, Chloe perched where he’d told her to sit. He handed her a glass of wine and undid his ascot.

Pointing at it, she grinned. “Can I ask?”

Geoff laughed. “My grandfather wore ascots, my father wears them and now, me. It’s tradition but it’s also a conversation piece. A great icebreaker at the office.”

Chloe was impressed. “I’ll have to think of something like that. When it’s my turn to open my place. If I ever open my place.”

“You will.” Geoff nodded. “With your ambition, you’ll go far.” Picking up his glass, he toyed with the stem. “I still feel guilty about that day in my office. I was intimidated by you, I think.”

Chloe laughed. “Come on. What a line.” The famed Dr. Gable was probably hoping to get her into bed. Remembering those green sweatpants, she blushed. The prospect was hardly unappealing.

“It’s not a line, it’s true.” He turned to her, his handsome face earnest. “You were brave enough to come to me and ask for an endorsement for an incredibly advanced grant. I was impressed.”

Chloe ran her hands over the stiff leather sofa. “Really?”

He nodded. “I used to be like you, ready to take on the world. Then real life got in the way. You remind me of that time, that optimism.”

“I’m not optimistic,” she admitted. “I’m just overworked. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in . . .” Really, the last time she’d had a good night’s sleep was during those two days where she’d hidden in her bed, so worried that she’d told him off. “Well, in a long time.”

“Hopefully our relationship will invigorate you.” He touched her hand. “The way it’s invigorated me.”

Chloe swallowed hard. Relationship? She thought of Ben’s rude words at the club.

Yeah, she wanted to tell him now. Geoff is my boyfriend. So there.

Biting her lower lip, she looked up at him. “I’m glad . . . we’re doing this.”

“Me, too.” Leaning forward, Geoff hesitated before touching his lips to hers. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she said. “But only if you never ask me that question again.”

A startled look crossed his face and then he smiled. The kiss was soft and warm, just like that night at the piano bar. But this time, it left her toes tingling.





Twenty-eight

Kristine bolted awake at 6 a.m.

Italy, Italy, Italy!

The thought sang through her head like a favorite love song. Leaping out of bed, she raced for the shower. As the coconut-scented shampoo ran down her body, she mentally ran through the list of what she’d packed, wondering whether there was time to double-check it before the cab arrived.

Ethan was already at the airport when she got there, sprawled out in a lobby chair. Spotting her, he got to his feet. “You look . . .” He blinked. “Incredible.”

June had always insisted that it was critical to look good in three situations: on an airplane, at the doctor’s office and when getting hit by a cab. So, Kristine was decked out in a pair of fitted designer slacks and a soft-as-the-clouds cashmere sweater. The sweater clung to curves that she normally kept hidden. She’d even taken the time to blow out her hair and it fell in vibrant waves around her shoulders.

At Ethan’s obvious admiration, she flushed. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, dragging her enormous suitcase behind her. “I thought I lost my passport, the cab was late, traffic was ridiculous . . .”

Ethan put a warm hand on her shoulder. For the first time all day, Kristine felt herself relax.

“Buongiorno,” he said.

At the word, Kristine’s heart practically burst with joy. “Buongiorno!”

Ethan took the handle of her suitcase and lifted the carry-on bag off her shoulder. “Let’s check in.”

“Passport?” Ethan said, when it was their turn at the kiosk.

Handing it over, she admired how deftly he navigated the screen. Within moments, the machine had shot out their printed tickets. “Voilà. We might even have time for a snack in the lounge.”

As they headed toward security, Kristine glanced in the window of a gift shop. There were all those magazines Chloe loved, waiting in the window. A nearby headline screamed, All Alone!

Embarrassed, Kristine looked at her boarding pass instead. “Oh, my gosh.” She stared at it in surprise. “Ethan, you must have written one heck of an essay. These are in first class!”

He gave her a sly smile. “Or upgraded our tickets.”

Kristine’s heart sunk. For years, she’d not only fantasized that she and Kevin would see the world together but that, thanks to his millions of airline miles, he would upgrade their seats. It was a blow to think that a man she barely knew had fulfilled this fantasy instead.

Off her stricken expression, Ethan said, “Kris, it didn’t cost a thing. I have so many frequent-flyer miles that I don’t know what to do with them.” He adjusted the worn leather satchel he’d tossed carelessly over one shoulder. “Besides, Italy’s much too romantic for coach. We can relax, have some champagne . . .”

“Thank you.” She shook her head. “I appreciate it. You really didn’t need to do this.”

“You deserve the best. Besides, I’m the one dragging you off to Rome in the first place, making you leave your husband for the week.”

Kristine’s mind flitted back to the reason Kevin wasn’t there. Apparently, her husband had no interest in going on a romantic trip with her to a foreign country. He would much prefer a hunting trip with the boys. Standing in the airport, the thought hurt her as deeply as when he had first said it.

“As you know, my husband was invited.” Kristine folded her boarding pass and placed it in her purse. “And as you know, he had other plans.”

Reaching forward, Ethan brushed a persistent strand of hair out of her eyes. “Well, I think it’s a good thing he didn’t come.” His dark eyes held hers, intent.

Kristine’s heart caught in her throat. “Why?”

“Because.” Ethan smiled. “He’d be sitting in coach.”

That made her laugh.

“Let’s hit security,” he said, placing his hand at the small of her back. “For some reason, I have a feeling you’ll want to spend time in the duty-free shops.”

After shopping, they only had a short wait before pre-boarding began. Kristine loved walking up the special, first-class carpet. As the steward pushed back the curtains and led them to their seats, she looked around in shock. “This is ridiculously nice.”

The area was spacious and the tan leather chairs absolutely pristine. A complicated-looking control could actually transform the chair into a bed. As she studied the control, a steward said, “Enjoy your flight, Kristine,” and handed her a flute of ice-cold champagne.

“Maybe they’ll throw my luggage in the ocean and have a set of Louis Vuitton waiting for me at baggage claim,” she murmured.

Ethan smiled. “Sign me up.”

They laughed and clinked glasses.

Kristine was having so much fun, but couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang she wasn’t experiencing this with Kevin. It would be nice to hold hands with her husband when the plane took off but . . . She sighed, making a conscious decision to keep disappointment out of her head. Looking around, she knew full well that the only thing she should feel was lucky.

Ethan was busy checking his email about a potential assignment, so she flipped through the Time Out Rome guide.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the steward’s voice crackled over the PA system. “There will be a small delay.”

The passengers on the plane groaned. Kristine and Ethan just looked at each other and smiled. Maybe it was the champagne, sitting in first class or the fact that she was finally going to Rome, but Kristine felt perfectly happy to be patient.

“Since we have time . . .” Ethan leaned over and put his arm around her. As his body shifted close to hers, her eyes widened. Time for what? With a start, she realized that he was pointing his camera phone at them. “Smile.”

Relieved, she teased, “You’re not going to use your fancy camera?” The worn leather bag filled with costly equipment was safely stowed somewhere above their heads.

Ethan pulled her even closer. “Nope. This is a spontaneous shot.”

Kristine leaned her face against his and smiled, a big, cheesy, happy-to-be-going-to-Italy-and-sitting-in-first-class grin.

“Perfect.” Ethan uploaded the picture to a site. “Valiant wanted me to do a few social media posts, so this is our first one. The essay contest winners, living a life of luxury out on the tarmac.”

“I love it,” Kristine said.

Ethan went back to checking his email and she to reading. Eventually, the cabin got a little too warm and Kristine felt sleepy. She let out a yawn.

“Get comfortable,” Ethan said. “We’ve got plenty of time until Rome.”

After snuggling up with her travel blanket and pillow set, courtesy of The Places You’ll Go, Kristine dozed off with the fans whirring overhead. Eventually, the plane started to taxi toward the runway, rocking like a big ship. By the time the wheels lifted off, she was fast asleep.