Page 66 of The Marriage Game

We’re fine. On the upswing after so many good talks today. And, okay, yes, also because we finally had sex. Both of which were things Dorothy recommended.

But that’s negligible.

Irrelevant.

Definitely not something I will ever admit to her.

“Look, Dorothy,” I say slowly, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here–”not, “but you’re overstepping, okay?”

There, that was good. It’s about time I established some boundaries with her.

“Oh dear,” Dorothy gives me a pitying look, “don’t tell me you’ve changed your tune about needing help.” She lets out a frustrated groan. “Jill, I see perfectionists like you all the time, so let me tell you that you have to stop giving into the lie that you need to be perfect to have worth. It’s okay for your marriage to need help. It’s okay foryouto need help.”

Indignation flares inside me.Of course you think that!I want to shoot back.Because you want to put us in one of your books—me and all the other perfectionists you see all the time.

But I swallow back these words, not wanting to let her know she’s getting to me. The desire to put her in her place by pretending she’s made things worse between me and Max is strong, but I don’t have the okay from Max to do so yet, so I refrain. I’m about to ask her to leave us alone again when Max walks in.

“Not you again,” he says in a terse voice that takes me by surprise. He frowns at Dorothy. “Haven’t you done enough? My wife and I came here to relax and spend some time together and instead we’re fighting more than ever.” My heart pounds—where is this coming from? “I’m sick of it. I won’t stay in this cabin with Jill another night. I’m heading to the main lodge—hopefully they’ll have a room for me there.” He lifts a hand, and for the first time I notice it’s gripping the handle of a suitcase.

Mysuitcase, to be exact. I glance at his face and he gives me the slightest of smirks. That man! He’s doing what I suggested and pretending she’s made our marriage worse! I can’t believe it.

My heart swells with love for him.

Which may seem odd given that it was prompted by him pretending our marriage is doomed—but when you’ve been married almost 20 years love doesn’t always look how you might expect it to.

“If they don’t have room for you there’s always the rental car,” I deadpan, using my finely honed drama skills. Aka the ones I acquired during one high school performance ofBrigadoon.

Sadly I don’t think my Scottish accent will help me here. Although Max in a kilt would be hilarious.

Weird mental tangent.

Dorothy gasps, so I guess my acting skills are up to snuff. “You can’t be serious, Jill!” she exclaims. “What happened to what you said earlier about fighting for your marriage?”

I sense Max’s gaze on me and turn to find warmth blazing in his eyes. It’s gone quickly as he turns his attention back to Dorothy, but it leaves a cozy feeling in its wake. Like when you curl up with a book and a cup of tea in front of a roaring fire.

Settled. Content. At peace.

“Yeah, well, I thought I did want to fight,” I huff, “but it turns out I’m tired of fighting.”

“Me too,” Max concurs. “We’ll be happier apart. At least for tonight.”

It’s weird hearing him say those words. They have the opposite effect of their intended meaning as reality grips me: we willalwaysbe happier together.Always.

Life without Max would be that cozy fire blown out, the tea gone cold, and a book with an unhappy ending.

Which means if he does get a room at the main lodge I’m going to have to sneak over there to join him.

“Max,” Dorothy straightens, looking him square in the eye, “don’t be foolish. Man up and fight for your wife.”

For a second Max’s resolve falters but then he falls back into character and shakes his head, striding past Dorothy with my suitcase wheeling along at his side.

Once he’s gone Dorothy whirls on me once more. “Oh my!” She really is distraught, and for a second I feel guilty for our subterfuge, but then she speaks. “Don’t you worry, Jill, even if you two are giving up,I’mnot going to give up on you. I had a couple seeing me once who up and stopped coming to their sessions. Like you, they said they were simply tired of all the fighting. Well, all it took was one phone call to their pastor and a dinner party with Mick, myself, and the three of them and I had those two singing a different tune. You can read all about theirstory in my last book, if you’re interested. It might give you back some hope. Either way, mark my words, Jill, I’ll get you and Max back on track too. Marriage is sacred, and I like to think that means that the Holy Spirit is on my side.”

I flatten my mouth into a line.The Holy Spirit inspired the Bible, I want to tell her,not your marriage books.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I take it out. It’s from Max.

Max

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