Back to You

by Faith Andrews

  I can only imagine what the two of us must look like. Crying, sweating, shouting, kicking up dirt as we wear out the ground beneath us. Is there any other way this could have gone down? I mean, this isn’t exactly soothing pillow talk material.

  Finally breaking the distance between us, Declan takes a step closer to me, reaching for my hands. I let him hold them, his familiar touch feels like home and reminds me of what we’re fighting for. He stares into my eyes, the depth of his emotions pouring out through his. “I know you need this. I know you need to let it all out. So do it. Say what you want to say, so I can say what I need to say, too.”

  His words surprise me. I thought he had nothing to say on the matter. He told me he was content to put it past us and move on.

  “Are we going to be okay?” Ultimately it’s the one question that scares me the most. I just want the answer to that one.

  “Do you want us to be okay?”

  Pulling my hands from his, I perch them on my hips defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means are you happy? You sought out another man—and not just some stranger for a one-nighter, Mia. You went to that reunion, you got a wave of nostalgia and you acted on it all because you were vulnerable.”

  “Hold on a minute!” I interrupt. “I’m not saying what I did wasn’t wrong, but I was vulnerable because you’d left again. There was so much distance between us. Physically and emotionally. You have to understand at least that much.”

  “I do understand, but what I don’t understand is why you allowed it to go on so long.” He takes a step back and closes his eyes. “Why did you choose me, Mia? What made you pick me over him?” His questions come out so low, his voice so hoarse and hesitant I can barely hear it.

  All the ways I want to answer him won’t be enough. To simply say we were meant to be or that it was always him is just inadequate, because there was a time when Noah filled the voids caused by the doubts Declan put in my head.

  I search deep within for the truth and the words to express it. I collect my thoughts, carefully, making sure I won’t mess this up. Finally sure of what I need to say, I start at the beginning. “Declan, when I found out about what you did, it felt like the earth stopped spinning. I’d read about this kind of thing and heard about it from friends and family members, but to actually have it happen to me—it was surreal. The idea that you didn’t want me anymore made me sick. It was like I had no say in any of it. You were done with me, seeking out another woman to give you whatever you thought I couldn’t, and I had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that our marriage was most likely over.

  “Even after you came clean about not sleeping with that girl, it was like the damage was already done. You didn’t have to have sex with her to make it wrong, it was the fact that you needed something from her—something I was obviously lacking. Whether it was a sense of newness or attention or a mere attraction—I was lacking somewhere and that made me think I’d failed as your wife.”

  “Mia, you could never—” Declan tries to interrupt but I won’t let him.

  “No! Let me finish!” I say, raising my hands. “Yes, I took you back. Yes, I acted as if nothing had ever happened because that’s what I so desperately needed to believe. I missed you so much it was hard to breathe, hard to get out of the bed every day, but I did it for our kids—to protect them from the hurt I was feeling.

  “And then you had to leave. I know it’s your job, Dec, and I’m grateful for what a wonderful provider you are because of that job, but you left at the worst possible time ever. I needed you and you weren’t there. I know it sounds like a cop out, but I felt you were getting used to the distance and I was still angry. No, I didn’t start things up with Noah because of that, or—you know what—maybe I did, but—who the fuck knows? Bottom line, in that moment I needed to do what I did. I had my own insecurities and doubts and he—”

  “Did you fall in love with him?” His sudden interruption startles me. He’s very still, waiting for my answer.

  Was I ever in love with Noah? It’s a valid question—a very valid question, but my answer might come as a surprise. My body starts to shake, weak from the heat, drained by the conversation. My emotions take over and I start to sob. “No. No, baby. There is no doubt in my mind that my heart has only belonged to one man and one man only. I’m so sorry, Declan. I am so sorry for what I almost did to us. I’m grateful every day that you put your heart on the line and sang your soul to me that night. I was too weak, too stubborn to see what I was throwing away. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t come back to you sooner.”

  In an instant, Declan’s arms are wrapped around me. One hand rubbing circles on my back, the other sweeping my hair from the nape of my neck. “Shhhh, baby. Please don’t cry. Please, no more crying.”

  The cab ride back to the house is awkward and quiet. Mia manages to nod off, probably exhausted from the heat and from emptying herself of everything she was holding inside her. I hate myself for not letting her do it sooner. If I had, maybe we’d be making out in the back seat of this car instead of struggling to survive the evening.

  She was definitely right, though. We did need to get that off our chests. It was liberating in a sense that we held nothing back and even if every single question wasn’t answered with thorough detail, releasing the anger and doubt is a weight off our worried minds. And now I know one thing for certain. There is no fucking way in hell I can take that offer from Robert.

  The distance would put us back ten more steps. It would kill Mia to be apart again. Fuck that! It would kill me to be apart from my family and cause anymore turmoil. I need my wife, I need my kids—do I need my job? Yes. But I can always find another one.

  Just as I take out my phone to send an email to Robert, Mia starts to rustle beside me.

  I return the phone to my pocket and place my hand on her thigh. “Feel any better?”

  She shrugs her shoulders, still groggy. “The headache’s gone and the air conditioning is a godsend, but—”

  She doesn’t have to finish. I know the rest of her answer. “I know, baby. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but this is a start. We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

  Turning her head to look out the window, she places her hand over mine. “I’m sorry I ruined our day—and the trip. I know this isn’t what you had in mind.”

  The last thing I want is for her to think she ruined anything. If anything, hearing her say what she said, and getting my own insecurities out there for her—it made things better. More honest. More real.

  “Hey. Look at me,” I say.

  She turns from the window and looks into my eyes. When the tears start to well up again, she removes her gaze from mine and stares into her lap.

  I place a finger under her chin, tilting her in my direction. “Look. At. Me.”

  When she does, I smile. The gesture calms her—I can see it in her eyes. A shy smile of her own forms on her beautiful lips and I want so badly to lean down and kiss them, but I hesitate because I know she needs more than touch right now. Sometimes words do speak louder than actions. “You ruined nothing. We still have plenty of time in Newport—unless of course you want to go home.” Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe she doesn’t want to be alone with me after all that.

  “Oh my God, Dec. Are you crazy? Of course I don’t want to go home. See, I did fuck it all up. What’s wrong with me?” She brings her hands up to her face, covering her eyes. Muffling her cries, her body trembles.

  I move as close to her as I possibly can, enveloping her in my arms and pulling her against me. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Mia. In fact, I commend you for how well you’ve handled all of this. We’ve been through shit and I thought that just pushing it under the rug and ignoring it would eventually make it go away, but obviously I was wrong. This was good. This was what we needed. I understand everything now—it’s all clear. And now—baby, now we can move on.”

  Her body stills and her sobbing stops. With her body still
pressed up against me, she wipes the last of the tears from her face and takes a deep breath. “You’re right. What’s done is done and we can’t go back and change it, but we can move forward and that’s all I want for us.”

  “Good,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Tomorrow’s a new day. We can relax on the beach, stay in and veg all day, or jump out of a fucking plane if that’s what you want to do. I’ll do anything that’ll make you happy, baby. Always. That’s all I want.”

  “How did I get so lucky?” she asks, sniffling back the last of the tears.

  “You said yes to a crush-sick virgin in a library and the rest, my love, is history.”

  Mia’s still spent, even after her nap in the cab. It’s only nine o’clock, but I convince her to take a bath and then go up to bed. I’m pretty shot myself, but there’s something I want to take care of before I lose my nerve. I know Mia might want to kill me for not consulting with her, but nothing she can say can make me change my mind.

  “Yello,” Robert says when he picks up his cell. From the sounds in the background, I can tell he’s still in the office. Perfect. He’s working late and probably irritated because of it. I couldn’t have caught him at a worse time. I’d better come to terms with the fact that I might be about to lose my fucking job.

  “Hey, Robert. It’s me.”

  “Murphy, good to hear from you. I actually have a question for you regarding the Reynolds account. Do you have a minute?” Of course I have a minute, but he has to know I’m not calling to consult about the Reynolds account.

  “Sure, I can help you out with anything, but—” Don’t be a pussy, Murphy. Think of the Band-Aid method and just fucking say it. “Robert, I’m calling to let you know I’m declining the offer.”

  “Declan, you’re making a huge—”

  “Don’t even finish that sentence because you’re wrong. With all due respect, Robert, this is the best decision I’ll ever make. The firm is important to me—fuck, making partner has always been my dream, but my marriage and my family is my priority right now. I don’t know if you can understand that and quite frankly it doesn’t matter if you do, but I cannot take that offer and I’m giving you my final decision now.”

  I wait in silence for a few long seconds. I can picture Robert squeezing his tie in his hands the way he does when he’s brainstorming or completely stressed the fuck out. When he starts to speak, his tone is stern. “This is a fucking shock! I mean, there’s so much to consider. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to convince Archer to let us keep the account without you as his front man. He’s going to be irate!” he shouts. There’s a loud sound on the other end. I think he must have slammed something down on his desk—at least it wasn’t the phone. The fact that he’s still on the line is a good sign. Maybe I can keep my job somehow.

  Before he has the chance to make that decision for me, something comes to mind. “Listen. I know you didn’t expect this and I’m sorry I’m not the go-getter I once told you I was, but let me talk to Archer. I’ve trained Walter McMahon on the ins and outs of that account—shit he probably has a better handle on it than I do. Maybe I can convince Archer to trust Walter. I’ll do all the necessary schmoozing and overtime to whip him into gear and make him the man for the job. He’s young, he’s career-driven, he’s single and unattached. Heading this account is a wet dream for someone like Walter McMahon.” It’s the truth. Now, if only Robert buys it.

  “Walter fucking McMahon?” he screeches and then starts to cackle. “Are you fucking high? There is no way in hell a guy like Archer is going to trust a newbie like Walter McMahon. He’s a little shit, he can’t handle the kind of demand we need from him. He’s not ready!” Okay, so maybe he needs a little more coaxing.

  “Robert. Can I ask you something?”

  When he doesn’t answer I take it upon myself to continue. “Do you trust me? I mean, you must because you were ready to put me in charge of the firm’s number one client. So, knowing that, I’ll ask you again—do you trust me?”

  He’s silent again for like the tenth time in this tiny conversation. Fuck, I must have his balls completely twisted.

  When he clears his throat to speak, I ready myself for something irrational. “I can’t believe you’re passing this up. I would have never done something this stupid at the stage you’re in but—” He takes a long pause, and then lets out a loud huff. “That’s where we differ, Murphy. I don’t get it because I always made work come first. I always will, too. Maybe that’s why my son hates me and—never fucking mind. I trust you, okay, you love-sick asshole. So on Monday you better start force-feeding McMahon all things Archer and it’s up to you to make Archer hell bent on believing that Walter is fucking God.”

  I lift my head up to the sky, silently praying for this stroke of luck. Thank you, Jesus! And thank you, Robert for having a heart somewhere underneath all the years of neglecting it. “You have my word, Robert. We’ll make this work. I’ll see to it.”

  “Damn straight, you will. Now, before I lose my shit and change my mind… how the fuck did you come up with this figure for the Reynolds quarterly?”

  After walking Robert through the numbers, calming him down, and convincing him to believe that Walter is the new man for the job, I have another idea brewing in my head. I’d like to call it a freaking brainchild! I hate keeping secrets from Mia—and I intend on telling her about declining the promotion first thing tomorrow morning—but this last thing I want to do is a surprise and I’m pretty sure Mia’s going to love it.

  I search the contacts in my phone and decide on calling Margaret, the travel agent who helped me find this place. She was very helpful and informative and I think she’ll know exactly what direction to lead me in. I look at the time and hesitate waiting till morning to contact her—it’s probably too late, but then again—ah, what the fuck, it can’t hurt to try.

  I press send, bouncing my leg up and down as the phone rings without an answer. Finally, just as I’m about to give up, she picks up.

  After her polite greeting, I reintroduce myself, “Hi Margaret, this is Declan Murphy. You helped me with my reservations for the house I’m currently renting in Newport, Rhode Island.”

  She quickly responds in a professional tone. “Oh, yes, Mr. Murphy, is everything alright with the accommodations? Is there some sort of problem I can help you with?”

  “There’s no problem at all, Margaret. Everything is perfect so far—exactly how you described it—better, in fact. I was calling to see if you could help me out with something special I wanted to surprise my wife with. You were spot on with recommending this place and you sounded like you’re familiar with the area—you think you can help me out?”

  She clears her throat with a little giggle. “Why, certainly, Mr. Murphy. What did you have in mind?”

  I have a lot of things in mind. A picture perfect, second chance future spent with my wife. Another little one (or two) to share it with. Happiness, health, love, laughter and memories worth every ounce of hardship we’ve been through just to get to where we are. I want our life back and I know exactly how to start fresh.

  “Do you know a minister that would perform an intimate renewal ceremony on short notice? I want to marry my wife all over again.”

  Yesterday was emotionally draining. Not to mention that the wine and the heat really did a number on me and I hadn’t realized it until I was screaming my head off in the middle of the vineyard. But today, oddly enough, I feel refreshed and renewed.

  I know our issues didn’t simply vanish overnight or disappear because of one heated conversation, but—I do feel good, better, more at ease.

  I turn around to feel for Declan, but he’s not next to me. The sheets aren’t warm and his side doesn’t look slept in, but I vaguely remember feeling his arms around me at some point in the middle of the night.

  “Dec?” I yell out, sitting up in the bed.

  When he doesn’t answer, I swing my legs over the side of the bed to get up and look for him.


  Before my feet even touch the soft, carpeted floor, the bedroom door swings open and I’m greeted with a shirtless Declan holding a tray of irresistible smelling breakfast. Scrumptious, good enough to eat—and I’m not talking about the Belgian waffles.

  “Morning, baby. Sleep well?”

  I run my fingers through my hair, pulling it over to one side, and then prop a pillow behind my back. “I slept a lot better than I have in a while, so yes. And to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

  Declan walks over to the bed and places the tray over my legs. “Funny you should use that word. I have a few of them for you today.”

  “What? Surprises?”

  “Yup,” he sings, tapping my nose with his finger.

  I pull his hand before he can retreat and bring it to my lips. After kissing his fingertips, I move his hand to my cheek and let his warmth caress me as I close my eyes so the moment can fill my senses. When I open them again, Declan’s smiling.

  I pat the bed beside me, gesturing him to join me. “Come. Sit with me. I didn’t like waking up to find you missing.”

  He hops onto the bed, careful not to tip over the tray. I reach for the coffee mug, steadying it. Don’t want to waste one ounce of that.

  Declan kisses my bare shoulder and then whispers in my ear, “I was only downstairs. I’ll never be too far—ever.” He steals a strawberry from my plate and then leans his head against the headboard as he chews. His gaze trails off and I can tell there’s something on his mind.

  I take a sip of the coffee—prepared exactly the way I like it—and give him a look. “Hey, you okay?”

  “I need to tell you something,” he confesses.

  My stomach lurches at that tiny sentence. For so few words, they usually precede something I don’t want to hear. “Should I be worried?” Doesn’t matter if I should be, I already am.

  He picks up the fork from the tray and places it in my hand with a smile. “First of all, eat before it gets cold. Second—no. It’s nothing to worry about.”