Page 59 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“Are you serious?” he asked, and we were no longer teasing.

I shook my head. “Totally.”

“How soon are we talking? Like, I have to ease you into it with a few days of relaxation and copious amounts of alcohol or, like, as soon as we shut the door to our villa?”

Ourvilla? He’d rented us a villa?Holy shitballs!

I knew exactly how to answer that. “As soon as we shut the door.”

Once the plane touched down in Mexico, my eager husband whisked me to the private car he’d procured to take us to the resort. I thought I’d at least get the chance to snap some pictures, but the man was on a mission. And what kind of wife would deny her husband something he so clearly wanted after promising to give it to him, for a photo op? Was I nervous? Sure. But was I excited? Every yes imaginable.

We failed to leave the villa for two full days. And for proving to be the best husbandever, I let him check a few more boxes off histo do to my wifelist. But on day three, my body needed a break. See, the resort sold lube for both the frontandback doors, right in their store and once he found that out, well, two days ago, my ass had been classified undiscovered country and now he could nickname it Tokyo—but like because of one person’s cock and fingers—oh, and his tongue, and those toys he found online and had overnighted to us, instead of the forty-one million populating the actual city.Whatever. It sounded different in my head. Some things he had to explain to me because I never dreamed they were possible, but let’s just say I might’ve been a contortionist in a past life.

Yes, I’d earned that nice, long soak in the tub.

“I thought we might take in the pool and eat at a restaurant today,” he said to me as I walked out of the bathroom still wrapped in my towel.

“We probablyshouldsee some of what Cancun has to offer.”

“You mean offeryou.” He dropped his voice to that seductive tone he got when sex was involved. “Cancun has already exceededmyexpectations.”

Oh, lordy! “No!” I snapped, holding up my hand in the gesture for stop. “You can’t use that voice because then we won’t leave the room and I won’t get to see Cancun.”

“Can I use it tonight?” he asked, hopeful.

“Probably.”

“Yes!” He fist-pumped the air. My husband was officially an idiot. But heaven help me, I loved him.

I dressed in a red bikini that I didn’t remember owning, especially since I had to remove the tags, and a fishnet coverup. He dressed in his swim trunks, then my husband led us out to the pool, a pool with a view of the ocean. I’d never seen the ocean look so blue and welcoming.

The warm breeze blew on us from the water. I officially loved Cancun. We ate at the pool bar while we chatted it up with other couples vacationing or on their honeymoons, which Blake and I were technically both.

After a productive day of drinking my body weight’s worth of frozen margaritas, we dressed for a night out on the town and he took me dancing. The next morning, we got up bright and early because Blake had arranged a private tour of the Mayan ruins of Tulum.Me, at Mayan ruins! We also visited the El Rey and Coba ruins.

Funny, I’d been so envious when Pen returned from her honeymoon where Ant had surprised her with a historic tour of the Mediterranean. And now here we were on our own historic tour. We spent the next two days hitting all the sights the area had to offer and while we were on the bus back to the resort at the end of that second day, I silently said athank youto those brazen birds who’d flown away with Blake’s lunch back in Paris on the Seine.

My life had started that day.

Unfortunately, two weeks passed in a blur of sunny skies, taking in the sights, lots of booze, and copious amounts of sex. The next thing I knew, we were on the jet back to the USA because my husband had an important meeting requiring his attendance. It sucked, but what could we do?

At least we got to sleep in our own bed again. I’d missed Maisie and the rest of the staff. The morning after Blake’s meeting, we were summoned to another brunch at Robert and Adair’s home.

Why? Why did they hate me so much as to force me to dine in their presence? I was prepared this time, though, dressed in my brunch armor of a sleeveless navy dress with a scoop neck and a matching bolero jacket. Sensible pumps included. Always sensible pumps. My hair I threw up in a chignon. Like I said, armor.

“You look beautiful, as always,” my husband said while leading me by my hand out to the car. “But when this campaign is over, we’re burning every black, navy blue, gray, or taupe garment that you currently own.”

“Don’t like those colors on me?” I asked, clicking my seatbelt into place.

“They look fine, but they aren’t you. My Glory wears pink and red and emerald green or yellow. My Glory wears her hair down and full of those gorgeous curls that first caught my attention.”

“I know you have to wear them for work, but I wouldn’t mind seeingmyBlake out of suits again.”

He waggled his eyebrows and I socked him in the arm.

“I don’t thinkthat’sour problem.”

“Thank God.” He leaned in to press a very welcome kiss to my lips. Then he shifted the car into gear and we were off.

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