Page 5 of His Loving Wife

“I’m happy you mentioned that,” Andrew says. “I actually have a surprise for all of you.”

“What is it?” Noah asks.

“Yes, what is it?” I ask, my voice noticeably more serious. Andrew isn’t the type to spring surprises, but I did notice something off about his behavior earlier. I settled on the fact he was probably anxious about returning home, as we both are, but I suppose I was wrong.

Andrew smiles. “This isn’t actually our last night.”

“What do you mean?” Willow asks.

“When I booked this place, there was a two-week minimum. It turned me off at first, but there were already so few places available, considering we booked last minute. I checked over my schedule at work and my vacation days were stacked high. I thought, why not? Let’s really go all out this year.”

Noah, with his dramatic flair, stands, pushing his seat away from the table. His eyes are glistening. “You’re saying we have a whole other week at the beach?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” Andrew looks over to me, fidgeting a fry between his fingers. “And that’s why I’ve been trying to stall your mom from packing all day.”

“This is awesome,” Noah says, jumping before getting back in his seat.

“You’ve known this since you booked the place?” I ask. I’m smiling, but I fear it looks strained. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I wanted to surprise all of you. We’ve never taken a family vacation this long before, and I thought it would catch you off guard.”

“It worked,” Willow says, beaming. “All day I’ve been bummed about going back. This is, like, the best surprise ever.”

“That’s the reaction I was hoping for,” Andrew says. He turns to me. “Two-week vacation. Pretty cool, huh?”

He asks the question like it’s no big deal, but I know he wants my approval. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any reason why it would interfere with our schedules. I’m still on summer break at the community college. The kids won’t start school for another three weeks. The only person who would be impacted is Andrew. Financially, he’s the penny-pincher more than I am. If he’s okay with paying for another week’s rent, I should be celebrating. Who wouldn’t want another week of relaxation? And yet, part of me wonders if he’s done this intentionally. Because there is one reason why neither of us want to return to Hidden Oaks just yet.

“I think it’s a great idea,” I say, because I know he needs to hear it more than I actually believe it. “And that means I can have another cocktail. No packing tonight!”

“Atta girl,” Andrew says, raising his drink in a mock toast.

“Wait a minute,” Willow says, her pitch high and urgent like something awful has just happened. She’s staring at her phone, leaning over the table. “No. No. No.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Sonja’s birthday is next week,” she says, still staring at her screen. “If we’re here, that means I’ll miss it.”

I don’t try to hide my annoyance. Willow—all teenagers really—have the ability to make the mundane sound like the biggest crisis on earth. Based on her tone, you would have thought Sonja had been hit by a bus, not invited a bunch of teens over to watch movies and eat pizza in her basement. I know from overhearing conversations that Willow and Sonja’s friendship has cooled in recent months. They are more frenemies than anything, and my daughter is probably more worried about what Sonja might say in her absence than actually missing the festivities.

“She’ll have other birthdays, sweetie,” Andrew says. “Just tell her I sprung this on you, and I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Yeah, Dad. Thanks for the heads-up,” she says dryly. She stands, stomping toward the kitchen with her plate.

I put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, trying to ease the blow. “Don’t worry about it. Sooner or later, she has to find something to complain about.”

“Teenagers,” Noah says, followed by a sigh. Trying and failing to sound like one of the adults. Once he’s gauged our reaction, he stuffs another ketchup-drenched French fry in his mouth.

After dinner, Noah helps me clear the table and load the dishes into the dishwasher. Willow has already strayed back out to the dock. Noah joins her when we finish cleaning. I pour another drink, and wander into our bedroom. I’d like to sit outside with them, curious to see if Willow’s mood has improved; it’s typically more tumultuous than a storm at sea. I’m searching for a light cardigan to wear against the wind when Andrew walks up behind me. He kisses my cheek, then remains standing, like he’s waiting on me to say something.

“Another week,” I say, not realizing I’ve spoken aloud. I force a smile to recover. “Quite the surprise.”

“We deserve it, don’t we?”

“We do. We really do.”

He leans in, hugging me. My body trembles, tears of happiness pooling in the corners of my eyes. I think back to where we were a year ago. I remember the trauma of that night, and now there’s another layer of emotion fighting to break free. A pang of guilt.

“Do you think we should tell them? That Paul has been released.”

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