27

MACEY FELT A WARM BODY STIRRING NEXT TO HER AND OPENED HER EYES. The kitchen was dark except for the soft light coming from the night-light next to the coffeepot. She looked at the clock and groaned—it was after midnight! Why hadn’t Ben woken her? She sat up and stroked Keeper’s silky fur. “Night, ole pie,” she murmured sleepily, kissing his head. “It’s time for me to find my own bed.” Keeper opened one eye, yawned, and snuggled his head deeper into the side of the soft fleece.

Macey left the night-light on and trudged upstairs. It had been another long day at work—the rhinovirus and a nasty stomach bug were both working their way through the local elementary schools, and some poor kids had been lucky enough to catch both. She closed the bathroom door, turned on the light, and looked at her reflection. After falling asleep on Keeper’s bed, her mascara was smudged, her eyes were puffy, and her hair—yikes! She’d canceled her haircut and now she really needed to reschedule. She brushed her teeth, threw her clothes in the hamper, and pulled on her pj’s—Ben’s old waffle Henley and a pair of boxers. She rubbed a copious amount of cream into her hands—which were dry from all the hand sanitizer she’d used at work—switched off the light, and tried to find her way in the dark, but when she reached the bed, she swung her foot forward and smacked her toe. “Ouch!” she cried. “Son of a bitch!” she added for good measure, falling onto the bed and tearfully rubbing the offended toe.

Ben sat up groggily. “What’d you do? Are you okay?”

“I stubbed my toe,” she cried, “and no, I’m not! I think I broke it.”

“You probably just bruised it,” Ben consoled, rubbing her back.

“How come you didn’t wake me when you came up?”

“Because you looked so comfortable, and Keeper looked so content. Besides, I’m beginning to think you like him more than me.”

Macey frowned, still rubbing her toe. “You sound jealous.”

“I am a little jealous,” he admitted sheepishly. “There’s another handsome blond male living in our house, and ever since he moved in, he’s been getting all the attention.”

“Poor you,” Macey said as she gingerly slipped her still-throbbing toe under the covers. “I’m just trying to help him adjust. I want to make sure he knows he’s loved.”

“I’m sure he knows. Last night, he got grilled hamburger mixed in with his kibble, and tonight, he got roasted chicken.” Ben propped his head up on his elbow. “How ’bout making sure the other male in your life knows he’s loved?”

“I don’t think he deserves it after he left me downstairs.”

“I just thought you two looked cozy,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers.

Macey sighed, relenting a little as the pain in her toe subsided. “You’ll be taking your life in your hands—I took the vital signs of at least thirty vomiting, sneezing children today.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Ben said, sliding his hand along the elastic waistband of her boxers. “Hmm, didn’t you get the memo?”

“What memo?”

“It’s no-boxer night.”

Macey reached over to see if he had his boxers on, but nope, as usual, he was buck naked. “No, I didn’t get the memo.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that,” he said, sliding his hand inside her boxers and pushing them down as he softly kissed her.

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling neglected,” she whispered into his kiss. “Thank you for letting us get Keeper. He’s such a sweetheart, and I know he’s much happier now . . . and he’s been so good. Did you notice he hasn’t gotten into anything? And he’s been fine by himself when we’re at . . .”

“Shhh,” Ben whispered, kissing her again. “It’s our time.”

In the darkness, Macey smiled, and even though her mind continued to race on, she didn’t say any more. Our time, she thought. Is this what our time is going to be like? Just Ben and me and Keeper? No little kids for Keep to love, either? No little fingers and cheeks for him to lick peanut butter off? She realized her heartache could indeed be compounded by a dog. Now, she would not only feel sad for them, she’d also feel sad for Keeper, because he’d never get to know what it was like to have little people chasing him around and falling asleep on top of him.

“Hey,” Ben said softly, bringing her back to the present.

“I’m sorry. My mind just keeps going along on its own.”

“We don’t have to do this. . . .”

“No, no—I want to,” she said, rolling onto her side to face him.

“After all,” he said softly, “you’re the one who keeps talking about being in the moment.”

“I am,” she admitted sheepishly.

“What did you call it . . . momentness?”

“Mindfulness,” she answered, smiling.

“Ah, mindfulness.” He pulled her against him, and she felt how aroused he was. “See if you can wrap your mind around this,” he whispered.

“I can wrap more than my mind around it,” she teased, slipping her leg over his.

“Maybe we can lose this sexy shirt, too,” he said, sliding his hands along the curves of her body and pushing it over her head. He traced his fingers lightly along her thighs, lingering here and there until she felt a tingling rush between her legs.

She breathed in the clean scent of soap mixed with the familiar scent of his body. “Mmm, you smell good,” she murmured, reaching for him and teasing him, too, until, finally, unable to hold on, she moved her hands to his hips and tried to ease him on top of her.

“What’s your hurry?” he whispered, hovering above her.

“I’m in no hurry,” she said, smiling.

He brushed his long, hard body against hers, and she tried to pull him closer, but he just ran his lips along the nape of her neck. “Should I stop?” he whispered in her ear. “Because I can. . . .”

“No, you can’t,” she said, laughing.

“Yes, I can,” he said, grinning.

“You better take it while you can get it, mister,” she said, pulling him against her.

Ben smiled, covering her body with his, and moving slowly up and down, pressed against her, penetrating more deeply with every upward motion. “You feel so good,” he whispered.

“So do you,” Macey murmured, lifting her hips and pulling him deeper. Finally, she heard him breathe faster and felt him surging inside until she, too, caught her breath. They lay still, their bodies intertwined, their hearts pounding.

“When we were younger, I had no idea you would be so good at this.”

“I know—so much untapped potential just waiting to be appreciated!”

“Foolish me for taking so long,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I certainly appreciate it now.”

He kissed her softly. “Oh, Mace,” he said, his voice turning solemn. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, breathing in the lovely scent of him. She thought she could never get enough.

BENS SOFT, STEADY BREATHING TOLD MACEY HED FALLEN ASLEEP. SHE sighed, wishing she could fall asleep so easily. Their whole marriage, Ben had always been first to fall asleep. He could even fall back asleep after being woken up. She, on the other hand, had one precious opportunity for a good night’s sleep. If she fell asleep on the couch—or on the dog bed, as she had tonight—it was nearly impossible for her to fall back asleep. And she could tell tonight would be no different. Tired as she was, her mind was already picking up where it had left off.

She closed her eyes and tried to keep her nightly worries at bay by recalling the very first time Ben had kissed her—the first time she’d tapped into all that potential of his! It hadn’t been long after she’d come home from Europe. Ever the gentleman, he’d taken Hayley home after their impromptu class reunion, thanked her for adding to their fun, and kissed her on the cheek—or so he said, and she had no reason to not believe him. The next day, he and Henry had run in the Tybee Island Turkey Trot, and the girls had all come along to cheer them on. After the race, they’d parted ways, and Ben and Macey had walked along the beach.

“Want to come over for dessert later?” she’d asked.

Ben had raised his eyebrows. “Is your mom making her famous apple pie?”

“She is,” Macey said, laughing. “She said to be sure to ask you because she knows how much you love it. She’s also making pumpkin.”

Ben didn’t need to hear more. “I’ll be there,” he said, smiling, and then he’d stopped walking and reached for her hand. “Mace, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. It’s hard to explain, but when you weren’t here, well . . .”

“I know what you mean,” she’d said, studying him. “I missed you too, Ben.”

He’d searched her eyes, leaned down, and softly kissed her lips . . . and when they’d pulled apart, he could hardly contain his smile. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

Later that night, after the pies were put away and Macey’s parents had bid them good night, and followed Maeve—whose sore throat had blossomed into a cold—up to bed, Macey and Ben had sat on the couch and talked into the night. Finally, Ben had looked at his watch, realized how late it was, and pulled on his jacket, but when they got to the front door, Macey had leaned against it and pulled him against her. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” she’d said softly.

“Be careful,” he’d warned with a grin, “or you’ll get more than you bargained for . . . and your parents will hear . . .”

“You wouldn’t,” she’d said, laughing as he kissed her.

“I might,” he teased, pressing against her. “I want you so much, Mace,” he’d whispered.

Now Macey eased to her side, replaying the lovemaking they’d just shared, and suddenly her mind began to play the educational film they’d all watched in their eighth-grade health class. The image of a cartoon sperm swimming up a fallopian tube in search of an egg was as clear in her mind as if she’d seen it yesterday. “It’s a long way,” the narrator warned as the sperm swam along like salmon swimming upstream to spawn. “Only a few hardy travelers will reach their destination.” She remembered the one happy sperm, smiling triumphantly as he approached an eager-looking egg. Then, she pictured Ben’s sperm, looking fiercely determined, swimming up her fallopian tube at that very moment.

“Go, baby, go!” she whispered. “You can do it! Get that egg!” Then she realized what she was asking for, and tears filled her eyes. She squeezed them back and as she tried to quiet her mind, she heard a loud clump in the kitchen. She continued to listen for more sounds, but she didn’t hear anything, so she felt around for her sweatpants and shirt, stopped at the bathroom—praying she wouldn’t lose too many precious, determined swimmers—and went downstairs.

Keeper was lying on the floor next to his bed, but when he heard her, he looked up and thumped his tail. “How come you’re not on your bed?” she asked softly, sitting next to him. “C’mere,” she coaxed, patting the bed, and he pulled himself up, hopped over, and pushed his bowed head into her chest. “I wish you could come upstairs,” she said softly, kissing the top of his head. He swished his tail, and she knew he wished it, too. “Maybe we’ll have to move our bedroom downstairs . . . or maybe we’ll have to put in an elevator! How fun would that be? Riding up and down in an elevator?” Keeper licked her cheek and curled up next to her, and Macey lay back and put her arm around him. Within minutes, they were both sound asleep.