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“We did.”

A slow and sweet smile spreads across her pink lips. It makes me forget that I just found out her husband is the last person I ever expected to see again, let alone at one of my retreats with his wife, a woman who is extremely beautiful and sweet. And someone who is clearly in pain.

Another one of the staff, Bev, appears with a basket of fries, placing them in front of us with some ranch and ketchup. I look over at Matt, and he winks at me. I mouth a thank you, and Quinn stares at the fried potatoes like magic has occurred.

“Wait, did we order?” she asks.

“The fry fairy must have been looking out for us.”

She giggles. “Noah never orders fries. He always orders plain foods.”

“Grilled chicken and sweet potatoes.”

Her head snaps to me. “How did you know that?”

A split second of panic zips through my veins when I realize I said that as a statement, not a question. “Oh, just a guess.”

“Do you eat that, too?” She analyzes my body, looking me over from head to toe. “For gains or whatever?”

I can’t help but laugh. “I mean, I’ve eaten that before, but it’s not my food of choice. I prefer seasoning on my chicken.”

“Oh my god, right?” She giggles before taking a bite of a fry and moaning, the kind of moan that makes men fall to their knees. It’s low and throaty, like the fry is god’s ambrosia instead of a fried potato.

She takes another bite before pointing at the basket. “Eat some. Then you can tell me more about being a nomad.”

“Only if you tell me more about you.”

She swallows and sips her water before she holds out her hand. “Deal.”

I take her hand, my sizable one engulfing hers. A new kind of shiver works up my spine, and by the way she shifts on her stool, I swear she felt one, too. She blinks and pulls back, covering her reaction by taking another fry before sliding the basket between us.

I shift on my own stool and grab a fry, my thoughts spinning as Quinn thinks of her question. How is Noah going to react when he sees me? And does Quinn even know about me? I doubt it.

Which means this week just got a hell of a lot more interesting, especially if I end up being their mentor. Something I can’t let happen.

Chapter ten

Noah

I place my phone on the bedside table and hit a button on a remote, opening the automatic curtains on the panoramic windows of our bungalow.

“It’s time to get up,” I say softly to Quinn. I’ve been up for a while and got ready prior to waking her, letting her sleep as much as possible.

With the early-morning light now in the room, it takes less than five seconds for her to groan, scrunching her face like a grumpy old man.

“Turn off the sun,” she whines, rolling onto her belly and dragging the comforter over her face so only her messy pink hair can be seen against the pale-yellow pillowcase.

I’d find this reaction kind of cute if we were back home in Seattle, waking up in bed after a night out together and drinking too much, but we aren’t home, and we didn’t go out together last night. Instead, she came back after dinnertime, drunk and irritated at me, mumbling about how everyone here is so nice and how much I’d like the fries if I ate them.

I tried to argue that I do like fries—just because I don’t eat them normally doesn’t mean I don’t like them. She knows that, too. But she insisted that was the “old Noah” not the “new Noah” before she disappeared into the bathroom and started to throw up.

I contemplated her statement while I held her hair back and helped her clean up. She protested, saying she was mad at me and didn’t need my help, but no matter how angry or annoyed we are at each other, I’ll never leave her on the cold bathroom floor by herself. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing, and by eight pm, I was tucking her into bed. She promptly passed out, and I watched the rise and fall of her chest while clutching a pen and the intake sheet we’d argued over.

After I worked out until my muscles shook and my clothes were drenched, my head was clearer. I still feel like my entire world has come crumbling down in the last week, and I still fucking hate the desert, but I came here with Quinn because I love her. Because, as the minutes and hours tick by, I increasingly realize how much I’ve neglected her, neglected our relationship, and I was too in my own head to even see it. So much so that my wife, my Sunshine, feels like I treat sex with her like something to check off on a to-do list. That I’m a “new Noah.”

Distant, lacking connection, and boring.

Some of which another person has told me before. “You’ve been distant, Noah, like you’ve already cut our connection without thinking about the consequences. Without thinking about me.”