Page 61 of Perfectly Wedded

“I can’t get too comfortable with this,” she says.

“Sure you can.” I want her to get used to us—to being together this way, feeling this happy and content.

She tips her head up to look at me, her lips curling. “It feels too real.” Then she lies back in the water again, her face glowing from the sun. “I don’t even know what’s real anymore. All I know is I haven’t felt this alive for a long time.” Then she flips her body over with a splash, and starts kicking for the shore.

After returning to the hotel, Sloan heads to our room to shower off and take a nap while Brax and I finalize plans for tonight. If I’m honest, I get the sense she needs a break from me, from the tension that’s crackling under the surface every time we touch.We’re like stretched rubber bands, pulled taut to the point of breaking. One more tug, and we’ll snap.

With her wet hair slicked back from her face, her face lightly pink from the sun, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She waves goodbye as she slips into the elevator, the doors closing between us. The end of the best date ever. With one exception: the other night when her lips brushed mine in the bedroom and I almost broke down and gave in to her. It would’ve been so easy to melt into her, to give her everything.

After all, she’s my wife, and I want another chance at kissing her. But this time, I want it without a bargaining chip and minus the pressure to set an end date. I refuse to give in to her demands if those demands come with an agenda that involves splitting up. It’s myone thing, the hill I’ll die on. I’m not leaving this marriage. That’s my endgame.

Which means I need to show her my hand.

“So, what’s your plan for tonight?” I ask Brax as we load into the back of a cab and head away from the hotel.

“It’s time for secret date number two. More romantic than snorkeling.”

“Which is?” I ask, intrigued.

“A sunset dinner cruise. You think Sloan would like that?”

My thoughts circle back to kissing Sloan, but this time we’re on a yacht, her face gently lit by the tangerine sky.

“Earth to Vale.” Brax backhands me in the chest.

“Oh, sorry.” I shake my head. “Yeah, she’ll love it.”

We head to the place to book our reservation, and a man wearing a crisp suit takes our information and tells me about the amenities for tonight—live music and dancing, a viewing deck where we can enjoy the sunset, and a menu that includes all the seafood and steak we want.

It’s overpriced and ridiculously touristy, but I don’t care. For Sloan, I’ll do all the schmaltzy guided tours. When I’m with her, the rest of the world grinds to a halt, leaving just us. Maybe I’m enjoying this husband role too much, but I can’t let her go, even ifshe eventually finds someone else. Someone who fits her better than me.

Something cranks hard inside my chest, like an overtightened screw. Am I so selfish that I wouldn’t give her up so she could be happy? What kind of man am I to hold on to someone, even if they didn’t want me anymore?

An image floats through my memory. My dad leaving right after Christmas, confessing to Mom that he wasn’t happy. That the life he’d grown into didn’t fit him anymore.

He’d made marriage vows, and then decided they were disposable.

And somehow my mom found the strength to accept this and let him go.

But I’m not her. I’m not sure I could be that strong.

What’s worse is how Dad left Mom to fend for herself with three kids. He was supposed to be the one who took care of us, the partner who carried half the load. Instead, he chucked his responsibility, leaving it all behind to find a new life. One that fit better.

I’ve always resented him for that. Even when I found out he’d died, I’d wished for one last chance for him to say he was sorry, that he had missed out on so much happiness by always looking for something better.

Now here I am, in Mom’s shoes, wondering: If Sloan asked me to let her go, would I? Or would I keep her to myself, selfishly wanting her to be mine, even if she chose someone who could make her happier?

My mother and father are not me. But that’s the funny thing about families. We never quite leave behind our blood connections, the way the same traits emerge in different circumstances and unfold in a whole new way.

I would never leave Sloan the way Dad left Mom. But could I be selfless when it came to letting her go? If she just left, could I accept it and move on?

Something twists inside me.Never.

But I’m not sure I’d get a choice.

You can’t force someone to stay in a marriage. It’s a decision two people make to stay with each other, no matter how hard it gets.

Marrying a hockey player is anything but easy. We travel nonstop. The industry is highly unstable. I’m not sure Sloan even thinks it’s a legitimate long-term career option. Professional players only stay in the NHL for about four and a half years. Barely half a decade. If I turn down the NHL, what then? Will I get another shot?

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