Back to You (12 page)

“Walter fucking McMahon?” he screeches and then starts to cackle. “Are you fucking high? There is no way in hell a guy like Archer is going to trust a newbie like Walter McMahon. He’s a little shit, he can’t handle the kind of demand we need from him. He’s not ready!” Okay, so maybe he needs a little more coaxing.

“Robert. Can I ask you something?”

When he doesn’t answer I take it upon myself to continue. “Do you trust me? I mean, you must because you were ready to put me in charge of the firm’s number one client. So, knowing that, I’ll ask you again—do you trust me?”

He’s silent again for like the tenth time in this tiny conversation. Fuck, I must have his balls completely twisted.

When he clears his throat to speak, I ready myself for something irrational. “I can’t believe you’re passing this up. I would have never done something this stupid at the stage you’re in but—” He takes a long pause, and then lets out a loud huff. “That’s where we differ, Murphy. I don’t get it because I always made work come first. I always will, too. Maybe that’s why my son hates me and—never fucking mind. I trust you, okay, you love-sick asshole. So on Monday you better start force-feeding McMahon all things Archer and it’s up to you to make Archer hell bent on believing that Walter is fucking God.”

I lift my head up to the sky, silently praying for this stroke of luck.
Thank you, Jesus!
And thank you, Robert for having a heart somewhere underneath all the years of neglecting it. “You have my word, Robert. We’ll make this work. I’ll see to it.”

“Damn straight, you will. Now, before I lose my shit and change my mind… how the fuck did you come up with this figure for the Reynolds quarterly?”

After walking Robert through the numbers, calming him down, and convincing him to believe that Walter is the new man for the job, I have another idea brewing in my head. I’d like to call it a freaking brainchild! I hate keeping secrets from Mia—and I intend on telling her about declining the promotion first thing tomorrow morning—but this last thing I want to do is a surprise and I’m pretty sure Mia’s going to love it.

I search the contacts in my phone and decide on calling Margaret, the travel agent who helped me find this place. She was very helpful and informative and I think she’ll know exactly what direction to lead me in. I look at the time and hesitate waiting till morning to contact her—it’s probably too late, but then again—ah, what the fuck, it can’t hurt to try.

I press send, bouncing my leg up and down as the phone rings without an answer. Finally, just as I’m about to give up, she picks up.

After her polite greeting, I reintroduce myself, “Hi Margaret, this is Declan Murphy. You helped me with my reservations for the house I’m currently renting in Newport, Rhode Island.”

She quickly responds in a professional tone. “Oh, yes, Mr. Murphy, is everything alright with the accommodations? Is there some sort of problem I can help you with?”

“There’s no problem at all, Margaret. Everything is perfect so far—exactly how you described it—better, in fact. I was calling to see if you could help me out with something special I wanted to surprise my wife with. You were spot on with recommending this place and you sounded like you’re familiar with the area—you think you can help me out?”

She clears her throat with a little giggle. “Why, certainly, Mr. Murphy. What did you have in mind?”

I have a lot of things in mind. A picture perfect, second chance future spent with my wife. Another little one (or two) to share it with. Happiness, health, love, laughter and memories worth every ounce of hardship we’ve been through just to get to where we are. I want our life back and I know exactly how to start fresh.

“Do you know a minister that would perform an intimate renewal ceremony on short notice? I want to marry my wife all over again.”

Yesterday was emotionally draining. Not to mention that the wine and the heat really did a number on me and I hadn’t realized it until I was screaming my head off in the middle of the vineyard. But today, oddly enough, I feel refreshed and renewed.

I know our issues didn’t simply vanish overnight or disappear because of one heated conversation, but—I do feel good, better, more at ease.

I turn around to feel for Declan, but he’s not next to me. The sheets aren’t warm and his side doesn’t look slept in, but I vaguely remember feeling his arms around me at some point in the middle of the night.

“Dec?” I yell out, sitting up in the bed.

When he doesn’t answer, I swing my legs over the side of the bed to get up and look for him.

Before my feet even touch the soft, carpeted floor, the bedroom door swings open and I’m greeted with a shirtless Declan holding a tray of irresistible smelling breakfast. Scrumptious, good enough to eat—and I’m not talking about the Belgian waffles.

“Morning, baby. Sleep well?”

I run my fingers through my hair, pulling it over to one side, and then prop a pillow behind my back. “I slept a lot better than I have in a while, so yes. And to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

Declan walks over to the bed and places the tray over my legs. “Funny you should use that word. I have a few of them for you today.”

“What? Surprises?”

“Yup,” he sings, tapping my nose with his finger.

I pull his hand before he can retreat and bring it to my lips. After kissing his fingertips, I move his hand to my cheek and let his warmth caress me as I close my eyes so the moment can fill my senses. When I open them again, Declan’s smiling.

I pat the bed beside me, gesturing him to join me. “Come. Sit with me. I didn’t like waking up to find you missing.”

He hops onto the bed, careful not to tip over the tray. I reach for the coffee mug, steadying it. Don’t want to waste one ounce of that.

Declan kisses my bare shoulder and then whispers in my ear, “I was only downstairs. I’ll never be too far—ever.” He steals a strawberry from my plate and then leans his head against the headboard as he chews. His gaze trails off and I can tell there’s something on his mind.

I take a sip of the coffee—prepared exactly the way I like it—and give him a look. “Hey, you okay?”

“I need to tell you something,” he confesses.

My stomach lurches at that tiny sentence. For so few words, they usually precede something I don’t want to hear. “Should I be worried?” Doesn’t matter if I should be, I already am.

He picks up the fork from the tray and places it in my hand with a smile. “First of all, eat before it gets cold. Second—no. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Phew!
Thank you! If it’s something he can tell me while I stuff my face, then it can’t be earth shattering. I pick up the knife and start to cut into the waffle when he says, “But you still might kill me for not consulting with you first.”

I drop the utensils and lift my hands in objection. “Seriously, Dec. What? Just say it!” This can’t be good.

Declan spins to face me, curling his legs underneath him. His muscles tense as he adjusts his posture, preparing to say what he needs to say. “Okay, before you go flipping out, just let me explain.”

Another phrase that usually ends with something unflattering or incriminating.

“I was offered a promotion and a chance at partner—”

“Oh my God, Dec,” I interrupt, “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, baby.”

“But I declined it.” He gnaws at his lower lip and runs his fingers through his hair, eyeing me cautiously.

What does he mean, he declined it? Declan’s wanted to be partner at that firm since he was an intern. I couldn’t have heard him right. “Why would you do that? I don’t… I don’t understand.” I really don’t. I’m baffled. “Please bring me up to speed. I’m so lost.”

Standing from the bed, he places his hands in his pajama bottom pockets and starts to pace. “Well, when I was away in Hong Kong the last time—” He stops to look at my tray and then up at me again. “Would you just eat?”

I shake my head and let out a long huff of air. He leans down, cuts a piece of the waffle, dips it in the syrup and feeds it to me. I make an exaggerated effort of chewing and when I’m done I wipe my mouth with my napkin and demand, “Go on. It’s delicious, but it can wait until I hear why you turned down your dream.”

“That’s just it,” he says with enthusiasm. “I don’t have the same dreams anymore, Mia. You and the girls and our life together—that’s my priority. Making partner—I thought I wanted that, but what it entails—baby, I can’t sacrifice us for that.”

I’m still confused. What does making partner have to do with sacrifices? I mean, sure it’ll mean longer hours and a lot more responsibility, but—“I still don’t get it. What does one have to do with the other?”

“Hong fucking Kong,” he finally says through gritted teeth.

I cringe when I hear those words all the time, so it’s no surprise he hates them too. “What about it?”

“They wanted me to head the Archer account—the one based out there. I’d have to travel once a quarter for a few weeks at a time.”

Ah! There it is. Now, it all makes sense.

“I couldn’t do that to you, Mia. I know how much you need me.”

All of a sudden I’m defensive. I never want to hold him back from what he wants. That was part of our problem in the first place. I push the tray aside and stand in front of him. “You did this because of me? Declan, how could you not consult me on this? I don’t want to be the reason you regret things in life. One day you’ll look back and resent the hell out of me for this. I know it! You have to take this offer. You need to call him back.” I frantically search the room with my eyes for his phone. I’ll call his boss myself and tell him that he was drunk or something when he made up his mind.

But Declan cups my face in his hands, forcing me to stare into his blue eyes. “I didn’t do it because of you. I did it because of me. I can’t bear the idea of
any
more time apart. Not from you, not from Cara and Charlie. My three girls are my life, but a job is just a job.”

I want to believe him, but part of me can’t help wonder if I’d been less fragile in these last few months would he have accepted. I can’t rely on him like a crutch because of my fears.

I place my hands over his and remove them from my face. I grip them with all my might, trying to fuse all my emotions into him so he can understand. “Baby, I trust you.” It’s the first time I’ve said this since I found out about him kissing another woman and keeping it from me. He’s done nothing but rebuild that trust for me since then by proving how much he loves me and what he’s willing to do to make us okay. Before he can interrupt what I want to say, I continue, “I hate being apart, too, and I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but—we’ve survived the worst. We can handle anything. I want you to take this job.”

Declan hangs his head, staring down at our hands. He stays this way—what seems like contemplating—for a good minute. I expect that when he looks back up his face will wear disappointment and worry. This decision couldn’t have been easy for him to make alone. I want to kiss him just for putting my needs before his, but I can’t take this away from him.

To my surprise though, when he does lift his head again, he’s smiling. His face hasn’t been this bright in a long time. Worry free, happy, youthful. He pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. I fall against his chest and let him embrace me, protect me, and just hold on to me.

“I love you for being selfless, Mia, but I’ve made up my mind. Robert’s letting me keep my job and I’m training someone new. This is the best scenario. I promise, baby. Just trust me.”

Just trust me.
Before this trip I might not have been able to do that, but now—there’s no doubt in my mind that Declan knows what he’s doing. I wiggle my way out of his arms, taking a good long look at the man before me. In the eight years we’ve been together we’ve been through so many ups and downs—and believe it or not there have definitely been more ups. But the downs are what helped us grow and taught us the lessons that can only make our marriage stronger. Looking into the eyes of my husband—my best friend, my partner, the father of my children—I am so grateful for every twist and turn life has taken me on because they all led me to this moment.

“I trust you with my life, Mr. Murphy.”

“Oh, we’re back to the Mr. Murphy talk, huh?” he says with a devilish grin.