Page 4 of Seven Year Itch

Snuggled against him, her head on his chest, she knew the moment he'd drifted off to sleep from the sound of his even, heavy breaths. Mind racing, it took her a lot longer to find it.

≈≈≈≈

"Mom, I can't find my other sneaker!" Noah yelled from somewhere in the house.

Ali sighed. She was not a morning person, and they were always the worst. Chaotic and disorganized. However well prepared she tried to be the night before, something unexpected always seemed to pop up.

"Did you check under your bed?" she yelled back from the kitchen as she poured milk over the kids' cereal.

"It wasn't there!"

"Where did you take your shoes off at?" She placed the bowls on the table and helped Emma into her booster seat.

"I don't remember!"

Ali sighed under her breath before shouting, "Come eat breakfast, I'll find your shoe!"

Less than a minute later, her son came rolling into the kitchen. Surprisingly, for a six-year-old, he wasn't a morning person, either. And that was the only thing he and Ali had in common. The rest was all his father. Noah's hair was a bit blonder at such a young age, but Ali knew it would darken to the shade of Garrett's as he grew older. They even had the same cowlick in the back, though Noah didn't bother to tame it like his father did.

"Come sit down and eat your cereal." Ali moved to exit the kitchen. "And watch your sister," she threw over her shoulder before making her way to the living room.

A quick scan of the floor—double-checking since Noah's searching skills were nonexistent—didn't reveal a missing shoe. She got down on her hands and knees in front of the sofa. Under it was usually a safe bet. She discovered three crayons, a Barbie's head, and a petrified French fry, but no tennis shoe.

"Well, good morning to me," her husband's voice came from behind her.

She picked her head up from the floor, looked over her shoulder, and grinned.

"A sight I'll never grow tired of."

She snorted. "My ass in the air?"

He closed his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah."

"I don't even want to know what you're envisioning." She stood, throwing her newfound collection on the coffee table to clean up later before dusting off her knees.

He opened his eyes, his smirk turning into a smile. "Think back three nights ago."

It was now her turn to smirk. She remembered. And even had a few bruises left from his hold on her hips as he slammed into her from behind.

She took the few steps to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You know, I bet if I ask real nicely, Mia would watch Emma for me again today, and I can stop by your office for that surprise lunch I had planned yesterday. I might even put myself on the menu. I bet we can find an interesting use for your really bigdesk."

Brushing his lips on hers, he murmured, "As tempting as that sounds, I'm going to be swamped today."

A stab of disappointment poked her in the chest, and she gave him a weak smile. "I understand."

But she couldn't help but wonder whether that would have been his answer a few years ago or would he have made the effort to rearrange his schedule for her.

≈≈≈≈

"Everything keeps adding up, and sadly, one plus one seems to equal three." Ali leaned her elbows on the kitchen island and buried her face in her hands. She had her butt plopped on the bar stool in her friend's kitchen, and like a true friend, Mia had listened while Ali bitched, moaned, and complained for the past hour.

She was finally unloading her suspicions onto her best friend's shoulders.

Ali had met Mia five years ago at a Mommy and Me class they'd both attended. Sarcastic, fun, and loyal to a fault, Ali had latched onto her instantly, and they'd been best friends since.

But now her fun-loving attitude was missing and in its place was serious contemplation. She shook her head, and the beads at the ends of her braids clacked together, creating a pretty melody. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window brought a glow to her creamy-mocha skin. "I don't know, Ali, I just don't see Garrett doing something like that."

"Whose side are you on?"

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