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Eight Years Later …
I never thought I would spend my one weekend off work with my therapist. Well, former therapist. I guess it helps that this time, we’re in a club sweating to “Single Ladies” even though half of the people in our group are happily married with kids.
My mouth falls open and I cackle when Sandra, who’s typically calm and collected, grabs the champagne bottle from the bucket and jumps up on her chair to sing along to the music, using the bottle as a microphone. The other women in our group join her and soon, everyone is screaming at the top of their lungs.
When a co-worker invited me to her birthday party, she asked me to bring along more company and I decided to invite Sandra. She and I have developed a very close friendship over the past few years, now that she’s no longer my therapist. And I don’t have to pay for her advice anymore!
“Yuri, come up here!” she calls out to me, clearly several sheets to the wind.
I wave up at her, before glancing at my watch. When I see the time, I gasp. Shit.
I excuse myself from the group and rush out of the club. The leather mini-skirt that Sandra insisted I wear rides up my thighs as I run outside. Once I’m outside, I find a quiet spot to video call my babies.
“Mommy, hi!” Lydia, the youngest of my two kids, screams out as soon as the call connects. Between her and the music in the club, there’s no saving my eardrums.
“Hi baby, are you and your brother having fun at Aunt Meg’s place?”
“We love it here, Mommy,” Levi calls out. His face is out of the frame, but there’s no missing the excitement in my son’s voice. “They have a new dog and Auntie Meg said Pixie the cat is going to have kittens soon.”
I smile at the excitement in their voices. There are so few people I trust to look after my kids, but my sister is one of them. She’s been doing it for years, and it helps that she moved her family back here. Luckily for my kids, Meg doesn’t have my pet dander allergy, so the kids can visit anytime to see her pets.
I talk to my kids a little more until I notice Lydia’s eyes start to droop. I wish them a good night and end the call with a promise to pick them up tomorrow morning. I start to head back to the club when someone steps in my path.
“Hey there, beautiful,” the man says. I look up at his face and wince. He’s pretty, but he won’t be for long if he keeps this up. “Were those your kids?”
“I don’t think you want to talk to me,” I say, lifting my wedding ring for him to see before trying to make my way past. I sigh when he blocks my path.
“So what?” he smirks. “I don’t see your husband here.”
Oh, he’s here all right. I don’t have to see Adam to know he’s around. He’s always around.
“You really don’t want to do this,” I say with a sigh, staring at the man pityingly. If he wants to keep that pretty face of his, he’d better step aside before—
“What the fuck!” the man yells as someone grabs him by his jacket from behind. Soon he’s flying through the air. I wince when he lands on the pavement with a loud thud, no doubt bruising something.
I watch with horror as Adam stalks towards the man. I rush forward to stop him before we end up with another “Italy incident” on our hands. There’s no forgetting the moment a few months ago where a man wouldn’t quit trying to flirt with me. It took four men to restrain my extremely jealous husband from going completely psycho on him. The three of us were banned from visiting the vineyard ever again.
“Enough of that, babe,” I say, grabbing Adam’s arm, mouthing “run” to the pretty man staring at my husband like he’s the devil incarnate. The poor guy scrambles to his feet and makes his escape before Adam can get any closer.
I wait until he’s left before turning to my insanely possessive husband and brushing my fingers lovingly over his jaw. “The boy was only saying hi, dear husband.”
“Odd way to say hi,” he grunts, his eyes flaring with heat as his hands drop to my leather-clad ass.
“What are you even doing here anyway? This was supposed to be an all-girls night. Definitely no jealous husbands allowed.”
“I got the message with how loud the bunch of you were announcing your single status.”
Ridiculous.
My husband is a ridiculous man, but I can’t say it surprises me anymore. Eight years ago, when we made our vows to each other, Adam promised he’d spend every second of his life protecting me. He’s doing an excellent job, and I have few complaints, if I’m being honest.
“We can’t control the music that comes on, Adam,” I say, blinking up at him innocently. “Surely you don’t expect me not to sing along to such an upbeat song.”
“For a moment there, I could have sworn that you forgot I exist,” he growls deep and low, lifting my fingers to his lips and kissing my wedding ring. “Perhaps I should remind you that you are not and will never again be single.”
I fight to hide my smirk. Adam has to know he has my love and devotion. I have never looked at another man the way I do my husband. Definitely haven’t wanted anyone as much as I do him, but I don’t say anything as he pulls me into a dark alleyway nearby.
“Adam, someone could pass by and hear us …”
