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Max removes his hand almost immediately, but the damage has been done. An awkward silence follows my husband’s public groping moment, but then Hannah bursts into peals of laughter.

“Whoopsies,” she squeals between laughs. “Or was it?” she adds with a wink at Max.

“What’s so funny?” Brooke’s voice demands as she and Will appear and join the group.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“Just caught our dear older sister getting felt up by her husband at their private breakfast table,” Hannah chimes in.

“What?” Brooke looks between Max and me with an expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wasn’t—” Max starts to say, but I’m faster.

“Oh please, of course Max wasn’t feeling me up at the breakfast table,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. Getting worked up about the whole thing will only add fodder to Hannah’s fire, and Hannah never needs more fodder for her fire. Her wild imagination is already chock full of the stuff. “It was just one of those he bobbed left, I weaved right sort of collision moments.”

“A fortuitous collision, if there ever was one,” Max whispers low in my ear. The flirtatious words send an unexpected thrill of warmth through me. Warmth that settles low in my abdomen. I find myself biting back a smile. But then I remember that we’re playing a game, putting on a love charade to fool Dorothy and anyone else who wants to call the state of our marriage into question. Whispering sweet nothings into my ear certainly helps us appear in love.

Still, the whole interaction is disconcerting. First off, there’s the fact that my body responded with such pleasure. That was…unexpected. Memories of when he used to flirt with me that way regularly flit through my mind like pages turned in a book. Why doesn’t he do that anymore? I assume it’s because he’s less attracted to me physically.

Depressing.

Or could it be,a voice that sounds an awful lot like Dorothy’s says,that it’s because you stopped showing much interest inhimphysically. Men have egos too, you know. Constant rejection won’t go unanswered.

I frown, rubbing my temple. How did Dorothy get into my head like that? Her and her stupid ‘leave the lights on’ business.

“Why are you two over here, anyway?” Luke graciously chooses to move us past the groping incident. He really is a saint, that man.

“Oh, well, you know—” Max begins, eyeing me uncertainly.

“We wanted to be alone,” I finish.

“Yeah, so I could feel her up,” Max adds with a wink, making everyone laugh. Under the table his hand gives my thigh a squeeze, and I swear a part of me that’s been actively stressed for years relaxes ever so slightly.

“How do we get a turn at this VIP table?” Will wants to know, eyeing the roped stanchion posts with interest. He fiddles idly with the clasp. “I wouldn’t mind having breakfast alone with my lovely wife—especially with that amazing view in the background.” He points past us to the bay window that lines the back of the alcove.

“Uh, Dorothy actually set it up for us,” I say, being careful to make it sound as if she was doing us a favor rather than trapping us here like we’re a pair of argumentative pre-teens. “You know, the keynote speaker.”

“Dorothy did this?” Hannah says in surprise. “Well, you know what that means then, right?” Her gaze pops between us. “You’ve been chosen.”

“Chosen?” We both echo.

“Yeah, Dorothy is renowned for choosing one or two couples at every retreat to give some extra attention too. I’ve read about it in her books.”

I stiffen. “That’s not what’s happening,” I lie. “We don’t need any extra attention.”

“Right, of course you don’t,” Luke is quick to agree, shooting his wife a warning look.

“Although would it be so bad if you did, Jill?” Brooke pipes up. “I mean, marriage is hard. If an expert like Dorothy Stine wants to give you some extra help, it would be foolish to turn it down.”

“Totally,” Hannah agrees. “She’s saved a lot of marriages, you know. At least three books worth. She’s like Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle for marriages.”

Geez, even my sisters and their husbands think Max and I are having problems? I mentally add them to my list of people for us to prove wrong.

Sure, Max and I have been fighting a lot, but that doesn’t give any of them the right to judge us. They haven’t been married for even half as long as we have. Anyway, we don’t belong in any book–I’ll tell you that right now. Especially one where the author is being compared to the whimsical heroine of an old children’s series. Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle indeed. What are Dorothy’s cures? “The Won’t Load His Dishes Cure?” Or maybe the “Doesn’t Come Home from Work in Time for Dinner Fix”.

So help me if she tries to turn us into the subjects of a chapter titled: “The Decided to Run for Political Office without Telling his Wife Remedy”.

“Perhaps,” I say tightly, “you guysshould ask her for some extra attention then. After all, need I remind you,” I bounce a finger between Luke and Hannah “that the two of you basically fell in love behind your congregation’s back then broke up because of the issues that arose from that? Meanwhile, your relationship,” I move my finger over to Brooke and Will, “started out as some twisted bet slash giant prank. Max and I, on the other hand, fell in love without any sort of shenanigans or games. So of the three couples,” my finger finally goes to me then Max as I conclude, “ I’d say we’re the healthiest.”