Page 72 of The Marriage Game

A nagging voice inside me tries to remind me of the insecurities I sometimes face when it comes to Jill, like how she never seems to truly need me or how I always worry I’m not measuring up to her expectations, but I push the voice’s unwanted message away by squeezing her more tightly against me.

No need to dwell on my weaknesses. I just have to work harder.

Chapter 27

Max

Thirtyminuteslater,I’veshowered, watched the highlights for a baseball game I missed, ordered us some room service– and Jill still hasn’t arrived in my room. I pull out my phone to call her, but then, in a stroke of inspiration born from being the parent of a tween and a teen, I remember I can use my phone to see her location. Or her phone’s location, anyway, which, in theory, should be her location as well.

I open her contact on my phone and click into it. The green circle around her picture radiates in the same location as me, meaning she’s in the hotel. Where?

I peek my head out into the hallway, but she’s not there. Should I go looking for her? Nah, I’ll just call her.

Before I can do so, a door down the hall swings open, and I hear a familiar voice…Dorothy.

“Of course, I’m so happy to chat with both of you. Thank you for stopping by.” A couple steps out of her room, looking back and smiling their thanks. Quickly I duck my head back inmy room, and that’s when I catch a flash of movement in the stairwell to my left…Jill.

Her wild eyes find mine, holding my gaze for half a second before she disappears behind the door.

Shoot. I close my own door, thinking fast. Dorothy is on this floor. Jill must be trying to get to my door, but she doesn’t want to risk being seen by Dorothy.

Dang, though, I know I only got a glimpse, but Jill looks so good in her all black ensemble, her hair pulled back in a clip that I would love to have the opportunity to remove. It never gets old watching her hair tumble free around her shoulders.

Cautiously I open my door one more time, standing behind the door and using the crack between it and the wall to watch what I can. Another couple appears to be going into Dorothy’s room. I hear her greet them in a happy voice.

“Theresa, Kevin, so nice to meet you both. Yes, please come in.” The two of them step inside. A few seconds later the door clicks shut. I move around the door and poke my head back out toward the stairwell.

I step out, planning on going to grab her, but when I look over my shoulder I see another couple waiting in the hall outside Dorothy’s room. No, not just one. There’s a whole line of them. My body goes tense as I catch sight of wild, blonde curls that I immediately recognize as belonging to Hannah. Thankfully her back is to me, but I don’t waste any time lingering–I book it to the stairwell. Dashing across the ten feet to the stairwell wasn’t exactly strenuous, but thanks to the stress of the situation, I’m breathing hard when I appear in front of Jill.

“Did they see you?” she whisper-cries.

“I don’t think so. What are they all doing out there?”

Jill sighs, then lifts up the brochure for the retreat to the schedule for today. “It’s this thing she does every retreat.Basically any couple that wants to can come up to her room and have a private five minute therapy session.”

“What? Really?” I sigh and rake a frustrated hand through my hair. “How long is this supposed to last?”

“Till dinner at six.” She points to the spot on the page. “She calls it a therapy happy hour. I’ve been stuck in this stairwell for the last ten minutes. They’ll still be going for another forty, and that’s assuming it doesn’t run long.” She lets out a long breath. “What are we going to do?”

“Make out in the stairwell like a couple of high schoolers?” I suggest. Jill laughs.

“Maybe if it didn’t smell like BO in here,” she says. She’s not wrong. As with many public stairwells, this one has a distinctly unpleasant odor to it.

“Yeah, we need to get you out of here.”

“How? My sisters are out there, Max.”

“I know.”

“Maybe we should head back to the cabin,” she suggests with a sigh.

“I’ve got room service coming,” I counter. “Plus,” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the room, “there’s a king bed in there.”

Her eyes follow my thumb, a trace of longing there. “I am hungry,” she admits.

“So let’s get you fed in that king bed.” I rub my hands together as a plan comes together in my mind. “We need to create a diversion.”

“A diversion?” Jill echoes looking slightly aghast. “If the next words out of your mouth are about pulling the fire alarm, I am going to have to shut this whole operation down. That’s a crime, you know.”

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