Page 3 of Momcom Vacation

Scared. Worried. Feeling guilty for leaving him.

All of the above.

“Kai is in good hands.” Dylan, who’s sitting next to Liv, has always been good at reading me, and she’s even better at calming my nerves. “And Becks needs his bestie, so Cortney is staying at Liv’s too. If you text him, he’ll answer. He loves texting. He texts me a million times a day. You have nothing to worry about.”

With a sympathetic smile, Dylan places the book she’s been reading on her lap. It’s this week’s smutty book club pick, calledLearn Your Lesson, and it features a handsome bare-chested man on the cover.

A hockey player.

Sigh. Now I’m thinking aboutmypucking hockey player. The gorgeous, dirty-mouthed husband I haven’t seen in almost two weeks.

Though my opinion of the game has changed and I’ve even signed Kai up to play, hockey season is tough for those of us married to NHL stars. Rowan is often on the road, so our conversations are limited, but not a day passes where he doesn’t FaceTime Kai and me.

And when Kai goes to bed, Rowan and I FaceTime again forotherreasons. Reasons that always involve at least one of the dozens of toys tucked away inside my nightstand. Or the ones I keep in my shower, the urn I tell people is our old dog’s ashes on the mantel, or nestled inside a potted plant near the family room window. The last one is in a plastic case and can be passed off as one of those automatic water thingies.

What?

There is nothing wrong with having a healthy sexual appetite. And what’s a girl supposed to do while her man is out of town? Though Rowan still demands I don’t use my “handy-dicks” without him there, physically or virtually.

I take in a deep breath and push away thoughts of my husband and all my toys. If I’m not careful, I’ll have to pop into the plane’s lavatory to take the edge of. Ha. Who am I kidding? There’s no way I won’t at some point during the flight.

With a nod, I give Dylan a small smile. It does help to know that Cortney will be there. He’s a worrier like me, and because of that, he takes my concerns seriously. If I message him about my health and wellness checklist, he, unlike the man-child billionaire, will follow every step to a T.

I pick up my phone again to do just that, but before I can, Dylan leans over and sets her hand on the table between us, the clicking of her stacked rings getting my attention. “Put the phone down and relax. Do you want me to play some of the new chants and mantras I’ve found? Or perhaps the didgeridoo tracks? They’re great for releasing anxiety.”

A did-ya-do-what now?

Never mind. It’s not worth asking about. If I do, then I’ll be forced to listen, and I really don’t want to listen to any dingalidoo.

“Or maybe you need another glass of that organic sulfate-free wine.” Delia peers up from her laptop screen. Her expression is mostly stern, but there’s a hint of concern there too.

“No.” I shake my head. My friends are right. Kai will be fine. I should focus on relaxing. That’s what this trip is about. “I’ll be okay. I’ll just read for a bit.”

I haul my oversized purse onto my lap and dig around for my Kindle. Not finding it right away, I pull out a protein bar and set it on the table, then my cosmetics bag and Olaf. I’m just pulling the device out of the very bottom when my phone vibrates inthe cupholder. I quickly let go of my Kindle and reach in for my phone instead.

Man-child Billionaire: No.

Me: What do you mean no?

Man-child Billionaire: No to everything. No, Kai will not eat anything off limits. No, I won’t let him cross the street without looking both ways. No, I’m not going to respond to the million and one demands you’ll send me this weekend. I got this, Pip. Now relax for once in your life.

Relax?

Does he still not know me?

Though I’ve let go of some of my anxiety since Rowan came into my life, I’ll never be laid back like Dylan or even Liv.

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes again. This time it’s a call from Rowan. Strange. Usually, he FaceTimes.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, Doc.” His deep rumble sends shivers down my spine even after all these months. “I wanted to let you know that I’m about to get on the team plane. We’re heading to New York a little early.”

My brows furrow and a thread of worry weaves its way through me. “But I thought your flight was this evening.”

“It was, but Coach called and told me to get to the airport early. Apparently our flight has been moved up.”

“Oh.” My chest tightens, making my breaths come a little harsher. Is the change due to weather delays in the Northeast?No. I shove away the intrusive thoughts, the irrational fear that something could happen to him or his plane, and clear my throat. “Okay. Good luck tonight. I miss you.”

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