“Work will always be busy. Remember when we were more…” I pause, searching his face for recognition. “Spontaneous?” I ask, already anticipating disappointment.
He sighs, half checked out of the conversation. “We have kids now. We need stability, not wild adventures.”
“So what?” I ask, drying my hands on a dish towel. “Because we have kids, we’re supposed to stop having fun?” I hear the frustration in my voice, but I can’t hold it back. “Do you even remember how to have fun anymore?”
The distance between us feels like an ocean I’m drowning in.
Jacob rubs his temples, his voice tired and low. “There’s a time for fun. But right now, I need to focus on getting thispromotion. It’s not only for me, but for us. Without my career, there wouldn’t be vacations or any of the things that make life fun.”
His words hit like a slammed door—cold and final—but I’m not done yet. “You think everything we have is because of you? I work, too. I contribute to this family just as much as you do.”
He shuts the laptop, his tone clipped. “Jenna, come on. That’s not fair. I know you do a lot for us. But you work because you want to. Not because we need the money. Maybe you have too much time on your hands and need a hobby.”
I bite my tongue, swallowing the words I want to scream—ormaybe you don’t make time for me anymore.Instead, I shove that thought away with the rest of them and walk to our room to lose myself in a book. Escaping with each word. But something has changed between us, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep running from it.
Chapter 4: No White Picket Fences
Dylan: October
Making my way home, the cool fall air doesn’t reach me—thoughts of Jenna’s green eyes and her raspy voice moaning my name while she’s riding me are heat enough. I barely know her, but one thing’s clear… I get a hell of a lot more done when she’s not around.
Focus on the road, man. She’s married. Off limits. But there’s no rule against fantasizing.
The tires crunch over the gravel as I pull into my driveway. My place needs work—a small country house on quiet land, but I’ll never get tired of the view. Endless grass, open space, wild horses in the distance, no neighbors in sight. And all mine. Gabriella’s beat-up old Volkswagen is parked crooked in my spot again. Note to self: get the damn spare key back.
I take a breath and shake off the thought of Jenna before killing the engine. The second I shut the door, Kreuger and Jaws pop up in the window, tails wagging. They wait while I knock the dirt off my boots, then immediately pounce on me the second I walk in.
Gabriella’s standing at the fridge, barely five feet tall with her oversized ‘90s T-shirt and dark curls covering half her face. She’s mid-chew surrounded by open containers and trails of crumbs on the counter.
“That better not be my hot chicken in your mouth,” I warn, tossing my keys on the table.
“Technically, no… I just swallowed it.” She grins as the dogs circle her, waiting for scraps. “And apparently, I’ve been told I’m good at that.”
“Jesus, Gabriella. Gross,” I mumble, pulling a bowl of salad from the fridge and tossing some onto a paper plate. She laughs, unbothered, and we take the food and settle on the couches.
“Met someone last week at one of my reno jobs.” I keep my tone casual, but I already feel her radar activate. “Her name’s Jenna. Event planner. She’s… interesting.”
Gabriella freezes. “Interesting like ‘new friend’ interesting, or ‘something more’ interesting?”
I roll my eyes and wipe my mouth. “Relax, she’s married,” I say, trying to convince myself and her that there is no more to it.
She eyes me from the recliner chair. “Lucky girl,” she mutters, moving her plate away as Jaws—my feisty Chihuahua-French Bulldog mix, all teeth and no shame—zeroes in on her food. “She’s dodging a bullet anyway with your non-committing ass.”
Before she can finish the sentence, Jaws launches onto the couch, swiping a piece of chicken right out of her hand.
“You little shit!” Gabriella gasps, lifting her plate above her head. Too late. I can already hear Jaws chomping down on it under the table.
Meanwhile, Kreuger, my German Shepherd, lounges on the floor, completely unbothered. Gabriella gestures to Jaws, exasperated. “Why can’t you be more like Kreuger?”
I laugh. “Karma. That’s what you get for eating my leftovers and running your mouth. Always asking when I’m going to quit being a bachelor and settle down.”
Her gaze sharpens. Gabriella’s the one person I trust enough to share real-life shit with. But even with her, I’m not willing to say too much about Jenna.
“What?” she says. “I didn’t say anything that’s not true.”
“Funny. Real funny.” I shake my head, trying to push Jenna out of it.
But she slips right back in. How she lit up when we talked about traveling. How she looked bent over her desk, helping that cranky office manager without a hint of annoyance. How she’s adorably clumsy. And sweet. And more magnetic than any woman I’ve met. I clear my throat. “Anyway, I got her number for you… in case you want to check her out for your wedding.”
