Page 44 of The Marriage Game

“Seemed to think you might love me,” I say, infusing as much lightness as I can into the words and studiously not looking at him.

“Makes sense,” he says in far too conversational a tone. One that throws me off from processing his next words right away. “Since I basically told her that I do.”

“Wait what?” My head whips around as the meaning of his words finally sinks in. “You love me?”

Max looks at me with so much love shining in his eyes that I don’t even need the verbal confirmation that comes next to know that he truly does. Still, it sure is nice to hear it.

“Yes, I love you, Jill Garza,” he says the words like they’re both a declaration and a vow.

“And you’re sure that’s not just the concussion talking?” I breathe, because sometimes a woman just needs to be two-hundred percent sure.

He chuckles. “You know, Jill, never in my life have I had the urge to hit someone, but one disrespectful word about you and I’m not sure any amount of deep breathing or counting or any other calming technique could have kept me from taking a swing at the man who said it.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I’ve never experienced such a strong urge to protect someone. And I know,” he hurries on, “that you don’t necessarily need my protection, but that doesn’t change the fact that I seemed to have developed a new basic instinct to do so.” He frowns,reconsidering with a short shake of his head. “No, that’s not right. I don’t think you can really develop a basic instinct; the whole point is they’re something you’re born with. Unalterable tendencies that have little to do with reason and everything to do with emotion.” His dark gray eyes find mind. “I suppose what I’m trying to say in a very long-winded, roundabout kind of way is that you awakened a basic instinct that I’ve always had but needed to find the stimulus for.” He takes my hand in his. “So to answer your question, no, Jill, it’s not the concussion talking when I say I love you—it’s always been my basic instinct to love you.”

Chapter 17

Max

“Weneedtobestrategic about where we sit for this session,” Jill announces as we step into the large conference room. “Not the back, obviously, because that will look like we’re hiding or don’t care.”

“How about the front?” I suggest. “To show how much we care.”

She considers this. “True, but I don’t want it to look like we’re trying too hard, you know? I think maybe sitting two or three rows back, but in the center might be good. Still very visible and engaged, but not overly so.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I agree, thinking how cute she looks when she goes into scheming mode. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say so, but I automatically swallow it back. I follow Jill up to the third row of seats, wondering idly if I should have said it after all. The fact that she questioned whether or not I found her beautiful at breakfast was concerning to me.

Then again, when your compliments about your wife’s appearance start earning you eye rolls or accusatory questionsabout if you’re trying to butter her up for sex, well, you slowly stop saying them.

But maybe that was a mistake.

Worse, maybe Ididuse to use them to try and butter her up for sex. It didn’t mean the words weren’t true, though. I’m not a total pig.

I’m still contemplating all of this as the two of us take our seats in the center of the row. Jill pulls out a notebook as couples begin to fill in the seats around us. She also retrieves a pen from her bag then opens to the first page, smoothing down the crease of the book to help flatten it for easier writing.

“I’m going to write you love notes,” she informs me, “during the presentation. I know it sounds a little high school, but showing Dorothy that we still have the fun and passionate nature of young love is what we’re going for, right?”

I hesitate. Back at the breakfast table I was irritated enough by Dorothy’s meddling ways that this plan to prove her wrong sounded great. But now, as I’m being confronted with more of the specifics of Jill’s plans I’m less sure. Given all of the fights and problems we’ve had in the last 24 hours alone, maybe we should be working on our marriage for real instead of focusing on proving Dorothy wrong.

“Jill? Jill Garza is that you?” A deep rumble of a voice pulls both of our attention upward to where a familiar man looms over us. A man whose face I would’ve liked to never see again, but instead was forced to regularly see on Sundays and the occasional Monday or Thursday night for quite a few years.

“Tucker?” Jill exclaims.

“I knew it was you!” A broad grin stretches across his face. “Wow, it’s so great to see you!”

“Um,” Jill glances my way uncertainly, “yeah, you too, I guess.”

Tucker hangs his head penitently. “Yeah, I guess I sort of deserve the mixed reaction after the way we left things. I was a real tool back then.” He looks my wife straight in the eye. “I owe you a big apology, Jill. I’m sorry for the way I acted and the things I said.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks color. “Um…thanks, Tucker.” Again she glances my way, but I’ve gone still as a statue. There’s a roaring in my ears that I can’t seem to quiet. “You, uh, remember my husband, Max Bernard.”

Tucker’s gaze swings my way. “Max Bernard. No kidding. You two got married.” There’s no animosity in his gaze, so I should relax.Stand down, I tell my body, but it doesn’t listen. “Good to see you, man.” I can only grunt in response earning myself a funny look from Jill.

“So, uh, what are you doing here?” Jill asks. I can tell she’s uncomfortable. I’m just not sure if it’s because her ex-boyfriend showed up out of the blue or because her ex-boyfriend showed up out of the blue while I’m sitting right here.

There’s a subtle, but important distinction between the two.

“Same as you, I guess.” He takes a seat next to my wife. “Here for the leaders in business conference.”

“Um—” she begins, but Tucker cuts her off with a laugh.

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