Page 1 of Hampton Holiday Collective

Chapter 1

Tori

“Rightthere,beautiful.Fuck.Yes. That feels so damn good.”

My determination surges with his praise, so I dig my fingers in deeper. Straddling his thighs, I bear down on my hands, pushing against the tense, coiled muscles of his low back.

A drawn-out groan confirms I’ve hit my target.

“You seriously need to go to a real massage therapist. Or a chiropractor.” I press down with both hands spread wide one final time, eliciting another grunt from my husband.

“No time,” he grumbles before gingerly lifting to his hands and knees, then rolling to sit. “And your hands are the only ones I want on me.”

He grabs my hips, encouraging me to straddle his lap.

With my arms wrapped around his neck, I hold him close, savoring the way the stubble on his jaw scratches against my cheek. I spread my legs wide, heat rising instantly when our bodies connect.

But a moment later, I place my palms on his chest in warning. For both of us. “We have to get ready.”

Except my warning does little to discourage my determined husband. His fingers tease at the clasp of my bra, his lips and sharp jawline skimming down my neck until he’s kissing the spot that heknowsalways does it for me.

“Ev… we really have to get going,” I protest.

“You’re the only thing I want to get going,” he retorts with a familiar glint in his gray-blue eyes.

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at his cheesy line. The lightheartedness of the moment is short-lived, and my mood deflates as I think about the day ahead.

“I’m sorry today is so busy.” I sigh, apologizing for what has to be the tenth time this morning. Attending back-to-back work functions is not exactly the way I’d hoped to celebrate Rhett’s thirty-seventh birthday.

“Not your fault,” he reminds me. Again.

First on the schedule is the volunteer appreciation luncheon for the New Hope Foundation. Although it’s a relatively casual event, I’m in charge of the awards ceremony. Then tonight NorforkStar Transport is being recognized for its support of Virginia Voices of Recovery. The organization specifically requested Rhett be the one to accept the award, so we’ll dress up and attend the gala at the historic Bukszar Manor this evening.

With two big events happening this weekend, it didn’t make sense to host a party or plan a birthday trip—we’re heading to Hampton in a few weeks to spend Thanksgiving with Cory, Jake, and the kids anyway. We can have a birthday celebration for Rhett then.

Today will be filled with small talk and obligatory, mundane responsibilities. Although I do have a surprise planned for the birthday boy.

“I can’t believe you’re officially in your late thirties,” I tease, running my nails through Rhett’s bedhead and kissing him softy on the lips.

“Age is just a number, beautiful.”

“True. But every year feels like a milestone—like something worth celebrating…” I trail off, my thoughts going to my mom without my permission. She never reached her late thirties. She didn’t have the privilege of navigating middle age.

Thinking about her, even for a moment, inevitably leads to spiraling into the murkiness of what if.

What if she had lived longer? What if I hadn’t been part of the research study that provided early screenings for the genetic cancers I carried? What if I hadn’t had two major prophylactic surgeries in my early twenties?

What if, what if, what if?

Knowing me as well as he does, Rhett has a knack for sensing when my thoughts turn dark like this. He wraps his arms around me tighter, anchoring me against the warmth of his chest.

“I won’t ever take for granted the birthdays we get to spend together,” I whisper against his lips.

“I know, beautiful. I know.” He squeezes me closer, letting me feel the depth of my emotions but not letting me fester in my grief for too long. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing me softly and pulling me back to the here and now.

Making the most of every day with this man is my purpose in life. I’ve made it my personal mission over the last decade to savor the moments we have together, and to appreciate every way in which he loves me so well.

“I love you,” I repeat, his warmth enveloping me as we hold each other in the softness of the moment.