Page 3 of Hampton Holiday Collective

“We have to get going,” she whispers, still tracing the collar of my suit jacket with her fingers and teasing at the short hairs on the nape of my neck.

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

Tilting my head one way, then the other, I crack my neck out of habit, ignoring the twinge of pain dancing along my spine. The Virginia Voices of Recovery gala is one of the biggest charitable events of the year in Norfolk. They specifically requested I accept the award this year, which I happily agreed to before they announced the official date.

Attending a black-tie gala is honestly the last thing I want to do tonight.

I’m not one to fixate on my own birthday—Tori’s birthday or our wedding anniversary, yes. Even Jake’s birthday and our godchildren’s birthdays are nonnegotiable in my mind. November eighteenth is inconsequential in a lot of ways. But for some reason, this year feels different.

Maybe it’s because, like Tori said, I’ve officially reached my late thirties. Or because if I assume my life expectancy is similar to that of my parents, then I’ve passed the halfway mark of my life. Tori’s dad passing away last spring added another layer to my sense of mortality, too.

We’re both parentless now. For as much as the grief of losing a parent has played a role in Tori’s life, I didn’t expect it to catch up to me in such unexpected ways. Some days I just wake up sad. I’ll pick up the phone to call my mom or catalog details of an event to tell her about later, only to be hit with the realization that I’ll never be able to call her again.

It’s the remembering that hurts the worst. It’s been almost six months since my mom died, and my dad’s been gone nearly three years. Some days I barely have time to miss them. Then other days the recollection rams into me like a freight train.

There’s no rhyme or reason to grief. At least not one I’ve discovered. It rears its ugly head when it wants, making itself known—forcing its presence to be felt and processed—on its own terms and with relentless tenacity.

Lately, my grief has been churning up more often because of Maddie’s pregnancy. She’s only twenty-nine years old, and to think she’s going through something so monumental without our mom by her side… It’s not fucking fair.

I sigh, resigned. Because as much as that thought kills me, there’s no changing our reality.

“Can you zip me up?” Tori asks, banishing the dark thoughts percolating in my mind. She steps in front of where I sit on the bed, putting in earrings as she turns and exposes her back to me.

The red silk of her gown cascades into a pool of fabric that rests low on her spine. Unzipped, I get a peek of the top band of her patterned stockings flush against her waist. I can also see—and appreciate—the lack of any other underwear.

“These are incredibly sexy,” I pronounce, grazing both hands over the see-through black material before smoothing my hands over the slippery red silk covering her ass. I gather the fabric of her dress and zip up the garment as requested. Then, with one finger, I trace her exposed spine, fully appreciating the design of the backless gown.

“They help keep everything in place,” she teases with a wink over her shoulder.

I swat at her ass playfully to signal that I’m done, and she hurries back into the bathroom. My wife doesnotneed any help keeping things in place. At thirty-six, she’s still a smoke show. Honestly, if I wasn’t constantly trying to keep up with her and Jake in the fitness department, I wouldn’t be half as fit as I am.

“Ready?” She steps out of the bathroom again, beaming. Her hair is in big curls, swept all to one side and tumbling over her shoulder. The neckline of the dress reaches all the way to her throat. The high slit over her right thigh is going to taunt me all damn night. The way the deep crimson gown clings to her body has me even more frustrated that we can’t blow off this event and stay home tonight.

“Ready. But we have to hurry. If you keep standing there looking like that, we’ll never make it out the door.”

She grins, straightening my bow tie and gazing at me with complete adoration. The simplicity of her actions wraps my heart in the warmest embrace as we head down to the car, hand in hand.

Chapter 3

Rhett

Ieyemywifecuriously as she shifts in the back seat again. We’ve slowed to a crawl now, the car inching forward as guests are dropped off at the front entrance of Bukszar Manor.

“Everything okay, V?”

“Yes,” she insists in a rush, but I don’t buy it for one second. She keeps side-eying me with what I think looks like irritation.

I reach for her hand and play with her infinity ring, hoping to distract her. If she’s uncomfortable and wants to go home and change, we have to do that right away. Dinner is in half an hour, and the awards ceremony will follow immediately after.

“Why are you so squirmy tonight?” I tease.

“I’m not!” she defends sharply, crossing her legs in a huff.

Huh.

Okay then.

Her attitude is a total departure from the sweet playfulness of an hour ago.