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“Uh-oh, city slicker,” she teases, then does a little two-step dance move that emphasizes the cowboy boots on her feet. The moment is so playful and she looks so adorable, that I can’t help but grin. A laugh rumbles out of me, and a fleeting image of myself grabbing hold of her to include myself in the dance passes through my mind.

But just like with the car door, I let it slide on through without acting on it.

After all, there’s not any music. It’s strange to dance without music. Especially in a public place.

Not to mention there’s a part of me that isn’t wholly sure how my wife would even respond to me doing something like that. So much of our relationship these days centers around the kids and work and running our household. We’ve lost space for the entity that is the two of us as a couple. The two of us as one in Christ.

To be honest, maybe I’ve also lost space for Christ himself. Sure, I go to church weekly, but what else am I doing to grow in my relationship with Him?

Jill is done dancing now, the playful moment between has drifted away. I want to bring it back.

“Jill! Max! You made it!” Across the cavernous room, Luke, Hannah, Brooke, and Will are making their way toward us—Hannah and Brooke waving madly at us. Their husbands are slightly more reserved, though they too are smiling at the sight of us.

They’re also both wearing cowboy hats.

If there were a crow around, I suppose I would be eating it.

Jill doesn’t acknowledge my cowboy hat misfire this time. She’s too busy greeting her sisters with hugs. Hannah and Brooke both have their hair braided and are wearing matching hats and boots. As kids, people often mistook them for twins since Hannah was always tall for her age and Brooke short for hers. According to their parents Jill used to dress the two of them up every Sunday in matching dresses and hairstyles. “They were like her life size dolls,” my mother-in-law often says with a laugh.

Jill eventually stopped matching them, but some part of it seems to have stuck because the two of them often still gravitate toward matching outfits or accessories. Last Christmas they showed up in matching Ugly Christmas sweaters, they must own at least five pairs of matching shoes that appear on various occasions, and Jill buys them matching earrings twice a year on their respective birthdays. Their matching tendencies are a long-running family tradition.

Jill, of course, carried over her love of matching people to our marriage.

As she steps back from hugging her sisters, her eyes bounce from one braided head to the other, and I could swear I see a flash of hurt cross her features. Which is weird. I must've imagined it. She’s all smiles now.

“Hey, man, good to see you.” Will claps me on the shoulder as he greets me.

“Yeah, welcome to the ranch, Max.” Luke goes in for a hug. He’s a touchy-feely guy. Or at least a touchier-feelier guy than me. I give him a quick hug back, glad when it’s over. I’ve never been a big hugger. When our kids were little Jill used to put “hug the kids” into our shared calendar as a reminder.

“You guys checked in yet?” Luke asks.

“Nah, we just got here,” I tell him. “You caught us on our way to the front desk.” I eye Jill, already lost in conversation with her sisters. “Maybe I’ll just go myself,” I add with a jerk of my head in their direction. “Otherwise we may never make it.” Will and Luke both chuckle.

“You’d think they never saw each other,” Will comments wryly. “We’ll go with you,” he adds, gesturing forward. “Give them some privacy to catch up on their lives since the last time they saw each other two days ago.”

Chuckling, the three of us head for the front desk. “So,” Luke says as we walk, “Hannah told me you’re running for attorney general in the fall.”

“Oh, yeah,” I say, taken aback. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised Jill already told them. As we were just joking about: the three Garza sisters talk a lot. Then again, maybe it’s not so much surprise as discomfort. I think I wanted to tell people, especially family, in my own time. “I am,” I confirm.

“And how does Jill feel about that?” Luke asks.

“She feels great about it,” I answer automatically.

“She does?” Now Will is the surprised one.

“Well, yeah.” I chuckle.

“She actually said those words?” Will presses. Irritation flares in my chest—does he really think he knows more about my wife’s feelings and opinions than I do? Fortunately I’m well-seasoned at keeping my more unpleasant emotions hidden from the world.

“Maybe not those exact words,” I reply, “but given that she asked to manage my campaign, I’d say her excitement was implied.”

“I see.” Will nods then goes silent. My flare of irritation erupts into a flame. I take a steadying breath and count to ten in my mind.

“Look, I’m not sure if Brooke said something to make you think Jill might not be pleased, but my guess is that she’s projecting her own uncertainty about it onto Jill. I know she and Hannah still worry about her after what happened a few years ago.”

“And you don’t?” Luke asks, one eyebrow quirking up in question.

In spite of myself, I hesitate. The ‘no’ I’m looking for seems to die somewhere between my brain and my mouth. Now it’s just floating around uselessly. A lie I can’t catch hold of.