Page 36 of The Marriage Game

Aren’t I?

With a groan I grab my laptop from off the couch, wanting to put away the evidence that I’d been working on this trip, but before I can slide it into its case Jill walks into the room. Her eyes find me immediately and, with one hand on my laptop, I feel like a kid being caught by his mom with his hand in the cookie jar right before dinner.

“Good morning,” I squeak, adding to my guilty vibe. I clear my throat and get to my feet, attempting to hide my laptop with my body now. Given that I told her I’d have to do some work on this last minute trip, I’m not sure why I have such a compulsion to hide the fact that I was working. It just suddenly feels as shameful as if I were hiding an affair. Can someone have an affair with work? Maybe in a manner of speaking. “How’d you sleep?” I hurry on, not wanting to dwell on the possibility, but as Jill gives me a noncommittal shrug and a one-word response (“fine”) I can’t shake the idea.

I can tell it’s going to be one of those unsettling type of thoughts. The ones that come at you out of nowhere but then won’t go away. You think to yourself, I never used to worry about that, so how did it become such a dominating thought pattern?

“I’m pretty hungry,” she goes on, “you know, since I skipped dinner. So, I’m going to go grab some food from the restaurant. Do you—” she pauses, her eyes skimming over me. I changed into my sweats last night before sitting down with my laptop, but I still must look rough after a night on the couch with my face pressed to a keyboard. “Want to come?” she finishes doubtfully.

My instinct is to say no. After all, I clearly need to shower and she clearly wants to go now. Not to mention there’s a coolnessto her that tells me our next fight is already brewing beneath the surface. The laptop I’ve been fighting to keep hidden suddenly seems awfully appealing. I could just stay here and get some more work done. Catch up with Jill later for the first morning session.Can someone have an affair with work?

The intrusive thought bulldozes through my mind again, and I hop to my feet like I’ve been burned. “Yeah, I’d like to come. Can you just give me five minutes to get ready?”

Jill sighs, but nods. “Okay, sure.” I hustle out of the room, booking it to the bathroom.

I’m back in just under five minutes, having taken the world’s fastest shower, dressed, and brushed my teeth—I skipped shaving, so my scruffy face will have to do.

Jill is standing by the front window, staring idly out at the landscape spread before her. She’s rarely still like this and the sight of her pretty profile stills my own hurried steps. I let myself take in the view that is her without an agenda or lengthy to do list. When was the last time the two of us just sat with each other and simply enjoyed the presence of the other person?

Jill glances at the watch on her wrist and the spell is broken. I did say five minutes. Can’t be late.

“I’m ready,” I say with forced cheer. Jill startles slightly, but then rotates to face me. Her gaze hitches on my scruffy chin, and I wonder if I made the wrong choice showering instead of shaving. It’s too late now, though, so I force out a chuckle and rub my hand across my scruff. “Sorry, didn’t have time to shave. Hopefully you’re not too embarrassed to be seen with such a ruffian.”

“No, actually, I like…that is you…” Jill stops and swallows then her eyes flutter up to meet mine. “It suits you,” she finally finishes. Before she turns away to the door I catch sight of a faint blush on her cheeks and a surge of heat zips through me.

She likes my scruff. How is it that after 17 years of marriage, I didn’t know that? Probably because I shave religiously. Clean cut is part of my senator image.

Jill likes my scruff.

I know she’s hungry—and presumably still angry with me—but even so, all I want to do is sweep Jill back into the cabin and capitalize on this newfound information.

Unfortunately she’s already out the door and practically jogging toward the main lodge. With a groan and a shake of my arms, I hurry after her.

Chapter 15

Jill

Itsuitsyou.Mywords to Max haunt me as I walk quickly toward the lodge. I cannotbelieveI said that to him. What was I thinking? What came over me? Goodness gracious. You’d think Iwanthim to come join me in the double bed later tonight.

And I do not. Because I am still mad at him.

Even if he does look devastatingly sexy with that shadow of facial hair across his chin. The really annoying part of all this is that I’ve had this thought before when I’ve seen him in the morning before he shaves. Why then did my mouth have to go and voice its approval for the phenomenon today of all days?

It’s as if the Dorothy effect of getting me to spill all of my secrets is carrying over into other relationships in my life. A terrifying thought.

“Jill, wait up!” Max calls out, and I force myself to slow my pace. A few seconds later, he’s at my side. “You must really be hungry,” he comments as he falls into step with me.

“Yup.” I nod. “Ravenous, actually.” I pat my stomach for added emphasis, then wince. No need to draw extra attentionto my midsection–my least sexy feature of late. O Metabolism, Metabolism, wherefore art thou, Metabolism?

“Let’s get you fed then,” he says. I bite back a snarky comment about how I’d already be fed if I hadn’t had to wait for him. I recognize that I’m irrationally irritated by the whole scruffy- beard compliment thing and should probably proceed with caution lest I reverse the temporary moratorium we seem to have called on our fight from yesterday. Soon we’ll be in the presence of other people, and we are not going to be caught fighting by anyone today. Especially not Dorothy.

We walk in silence the rest of the way to the lodge. The restaurant is relatively quiet when we step inside. Breakfast runs every day from 7-9, and it’s only 7:30 now. Most couples must not have come down yet. The hostess stand is empty, but there’s a sign inviting retreat guests to seat themselves. Max gestures toward an empty table near the center of the space, but before we can head that way a server pops up in front of us.

“Hello and welcome to Flossy’s. Now before you take a seat I’ve been instructed to intercept one particular couple who’ve been chosen for a special table. Any chance the two of you are Max and Jill Bernard?”

Max and I exchange a look before he answers, “Uh, yes, actually, we are.”

The server looks extremely relieved to hear this, “Oh, I’m so glad I found you. It’s been a bit stressful watching my tables while also keeping one eye here for new couples walking in. Not to mention it was a bit awkward asking people if they were you. I was starting to wonder if it was worth the promised tip, but anyway…” she waves a hand to dismiss her own words. “Here you two are, so problem solved. I’ll grab you menus and we’ll be on our way.” She slides out two menus from the hostess stand then gestures for us to follow her.

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