Page 17 of Momcom Vacation

The teenager looks up and slowly takes off his ever-present headphones.

“Take everyone to the TV room, put something obnoxious on, and turn it up really loud. If you give us thirty minutes of adult time, I’ll send Bob over to the mainland with the boat to get those bagels you like.”

Liam frowns, his expression calculating.

“And I’ll let you leave the house later. Just wear your hoodie so no one sees your hair,” Beckett adds. “Muriel’s daughter Jasmin is around. You guys can talk about TikTok or Chatsnap or whatever you people do.”

Liam straightens and his green eyes light up. “From the Jersey deli,” he demands. “The New York one is trash.”

Beckett dips his chin and pulls his phone from his pocket again. “I’ll text him now. Go wrangle the herd.”

With a salute to Beckett, the kid takes Willow out of Cortney’s arms and directs the rest of the brood like a seasoned professional.

Once it’s just the four of us and an obnoxious pop song is blasting from the TV, Beckett pours himself a cup of coffee, spins one of the kitchen chairs around and sits. “Okay, pretty boy, clock’s ticking. Tell us what you did to duck things up.”

“I didn’t duck anything up. I’m just stressed. The three of you have me working around the clock, and I haven’t been giving Delia enough attention.”

Cortney’s mouth turns down in sympathy, but Beckett scoffs.

“She’s ridiculously busy with work too. It’s been hard to make time for one another.”

No one speaks. Shit. They’re giving me just enough rope to hang myself with. Normally I share nothing, but they’re all in successful relationships. Maybe it is worth opening up for once.

“We haven’t.” I swallow past the lump that’s formed in my throat. This is painful. “Been intimate in a while.”

“How long is a while?” Rowan asks. “Two or three days?”

“A week?” Cortney asks.

Chest tightening, I shake my head. “Twenty-nine days.”

“A month.” Beckett slams his fist down on the table.

“Twenty-nine days is not a month.” The retort is lame, but it’s all I’ve got.

“During a leap year it is,” Parker quips.

I shoot him a death glare.

Beckett runs his hands through his hair. “Okay, we have to fix this.”

“She’s stressed,” I say. “She founded a nonprofit, is working a full caseload putting Boston’s criminals in jail, and she’s dealing with the twins. The last thing I want is to be one more needy person in her life.”

“So help more. Or hire someone.”

“I help as often as I can. Even if she won’t ask. She won’t tell me when she’s overwhelmed, either.”

“Kidnap her.” Beckett reaches for his phone. “Borrow the jet. How about the Bahamas? The flight from here is quick. Check out a nude beach. Grab her and take off, then have a sexy weekend to get back on track.”

My heart stumbles at the possibility, but then it sinks. “I can’t kidnap Delia.”

“You can. I’ll take care of the logistics.” He doesn’t look up from where he’s typing rapidly on his phone.

“No, she would fight back. I’d probably lose an eye in the process.”

I should have kept my damn mouth shut. Better yet, I should never have let myself get into this mess. But I can’t pressure Delia. And I don’t want to make her feel like she’s doing something wrong. This is her first—and only, if I have anything to say about it—serious relationship, so she still battles with insecurity and worrying that she’s not being the partner I need her to be. I’ll die before I let her feel like she isn’t enough for me.

“What if,” Rowan says, holding on to the countertop as he stretches one quad, “you just go over there, lock the door, and tear her clothes off? Don’t make it complicated. Just ravage her.”

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