Page 28 of Hampton Holiday Collective

She pulls me around and leads me back toward the house.

“I’ll tell you what,” Tori continues. “Why don’t we do the Christmas eve dinner as planned, then after you get your email from Santa, Rhett and I will stay in the basement and listen for the kids.”

My eyes must bug out of my head based on the grin she aims at me.

“What? You don’t want to be alone with your husband tonight? It’s his birthday, and it sounds like you could use a few hours to yourselves. Spend some time together, then set up whatever you need to under the tree. We’ll keep the littles in the basement.”

I pull her into a suffocatingly tight side hug, overwhelmed with gratitude for her friendship. She’s always seen me in a way almost no one else can.

I kiss her hair before pulling back and whispering my thanks. “Don’t tell Rhett—but you’re my favorite.”

“I know.” She smiles, and just like that, my whole night—my whole damn outlook on life—is turned sunny side up, thanks to Tori.

Chapter 21

Cory

Ipullthedoorclosed for the third time in ten minutes and send up a silent prayer that the kids are finally settled for the night. It’s nearly an hour past their usual bedtime. They’re unreasonably excited about tomorrow, but it’s been a long day, and they need to actually go to sleep before Jake and I can tackle the rest of our to-do list.

I keep my hand on the doorknob—I swear Matty can sense it if I walk away too quickly—but startle when my husband presses his lips to the back of my neck.

“I have a surprise for you, birthday boy.”

I shiver at the deep, sultry octave of his voice.

“Oh yeah?” I whisper, finally releasing the doorknob and leaning back into his arms. “What kind of surprise?”

He nips at my earlobe before murmuring, “The hot, naughty, birthday sex kind of surprise.”

I silently chuckle but reach one arm up to grip the back of his head and nuzzle against him. I appreciate the gesture, but I know that’s not in the cards for us tonight. “We both know the kids won’t sleep through that,” I acknowledge with a sigh.

Jake doesn’t stop kissing my neck.

“Tori and Rhett are coming down to keep an ear out for them for a few hours. You and I have a date in the sauna.”

I still at the very idea of a few hours alone with my husband, almost like if I react too quickly it won’t really happen.

“Leave your damn phone down here,” he demands. Which I can do. I owe it to him—and to myself—to not be glued to work updates, even if it’s just for a few hours.

“Leave your clothes down here while you’re at it. There’s a robe in the closet—get changed, then meet me in the master bathroom in ten minutes.”

Jake takes off before I have a chance to question him. Eagerness percolates low in my belly. I rush to our room, whip off my clothes, and put on a robe, then I hurry back to the hallway.

“Have fun,” Tori murmurs as she passes on the stairs, startling me. She gives me a wink and holds up a cup of cocoa in a mock toast. Rhett is a few steps behind her and gives me a knowing bro nod as they make their descent into the basement.

I’m too excited to feel even an ounce of embarrassment that they know I’m about to let my husband defile me in their sauna.

It’s not just his touch or the promise of release I’m chasing—it’s the intimacy that’s hard to come by with two small children in the house and a demanding, nonstop career.

My expectations for today weren’t high—it’s not a milestone birthday, and this is the reality of where we’re at in our relationship and as parents. The daily grind doesn’t stop. I love our life—wouldn’t change a thing about it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how much I’ve missed my husband lately.

It’s not him. Not at all. If anything, it’s me.

I have everything I ever wanted because of Jake. He helped make my dreams come true. But my work is relentless and never ending.

I’m exhausted after work, and I put all the energy I can into helping around the house and getting the kids down for bed each night because I know the monotony of being a stay-at-home dad wears on him.

To have a night to ourselves—where we can lock the door and know the kids won’t interrupt—is idyllic.