He Took Her on Our Anniversary Trip

ONE

HANNAH

The envelope had taken me three tries.

“I have something to show you.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Only if you’ve made other plans for our anniversary.”

“I know better.” He caught my wrist when I came close and drew me between his knees.

He had a little silver at his temples and the same mouth that had once made me miss the last train home.

He kissed the inside of my wrist. “Four days. No laptop. No emergencies unless the building is actually on fire.”

“That’s in writing now.”

“I have witnesses.”

Grace was upstairs, playing music while she changed for school. The bass came through the ceiling in soft, repetitive thuds.

I opened the envelope. The hotel confirmation came first: the same place where we’d spent our honeymoon, though this time I had paid for a room with a balcony and a view of the water.

Beneath it was the reservation for dinner on the terrace our first night, then a card from the restaurant where Daniel had proposed.

I’d called twice to get the corner table.

The final page confirmed a chocolate dessert with 15 Years written across the plate.

“You did all this?” he asked.

“I wanted it to feel like ours.”

His phone buzzed under his hand.

His gaze dropped before he could stop it. His face changed—not dramatically, just the small gathering of attention that told me the person on the screen had moved ahead of the person standing between his knees.

“Is it work?”

“Lauren.”

Of course it was.

“Her lawyer sent something over last night. She thinks it means her ex can force the sale before they have a custody schedule.” He picked up the phone. “She doesn’t understand what she’s reading.”

“Neither do you.”

“No, but I can calm her down until she talks to someone who does.”

The easy answer came to my tongue: Go ahead.

It’s fine. I had used it in restaurants while he stepped outside, in the middle of movies, once during Grace’s birthday dinner while the candles sagged into the frosting.

Lauren’s emergencies rarely required Daniel.

They required an audience that would not hang up.

His phone buzzed again.

“Can you give me five minutes?” I asked.

Daniel’s gaze lifted to mine. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

He silenced the call and slid the phone across the island, out of reach.

Then he wrapped both arms around my waist and looked through every page.

He asked what time we could check in and whether I still wanted to rent bikes.

He remembered the ridiculous honeymoon room with the broken air-conditioning and the gull that had stolen half his breakfast from our balcony.

For five minutes, he was entirely there.

Then Grace called that she couldn’t find her left shoe, and the morning moved again.

At pickup that afternoon, Grace came through the school doors with her backpack hanging off one shoulder and a sheet of poster board pressed to her chest. She opened the back door, saw the garment bag stretched across the seat, and frowned.

“Trip clothes?”

“Your dad’s jacket.”

She steadied the poster board before climbing in. A large red A showed in one corner above a row of printed photographs.

“You got it back.” I twisted toward her. “Did Ms. Calloway say anything?”

“She said the interviews were good.” Grace fastened her seat belt. “Dad wanted to see it.”

“We’ll show him tonight.”

“He said he’d come last Thursday.”

There was no accusation in it. Grace was thirteen; when an adult failed to arrive, she collected the fact and checked what happened next.

“I know.”

“Lauren called, right?”

I put the car in drive. “That’s something you should ask Dad.”

“I did. He said he got tied up.” She looked out the window as we moved through the pickup lane. “She calls a lot.”

“She does.”

Grace rested the project flat across her knees. “Will he be at my game Monday?”

“He put it in his calendar.”

“Okay.” She smoothed down one lifted corner of a photograph. “Can you put it in yours too?”

I almost told her I had never missed one. Instead I said, “It’s already there.”

That evening, Daniel stood with Grace at the dining table and read every caption on her project. He apologized for missing the presentation. He gave no excuse. Grace made him listen to the recorded portion on her tablet and reminded him twice about Monday.

I packed his jacket after dinner.

The next night, with our suitcases open on the bedroom bench and the trip less than a day away, I locked the door.

Daniel looked up from folding a shirt. “Grace went to sleep?”

“She has headphones on.”

I crossed the room, took the shirt from his hands, and dropped it into the suitcase. Then I pulled my sweater over my head.

His eyes moved over me, and whatever I’d been afraid of all week eased. Desire had never been the part we had to search for. It was there in the sudden stillness of his hands, in the way his gaze stayed on the black lace bra I had bought for the trip.

“Come here,” he said.

“You come here.”

That surprised a grin out of him. He stepped into me, one hand sliding around my waist while the other cupped the back of my neck.

His kiss was warm and familiar, then deeper when I opened for him.

I pushed his T-shirt up, my palms finding the hard planes of his stomach.

He pulled it over his head and let it fall beside my sweater.

I knew his body in the dark. I knew where the small scar crossed his ribs and how his breath changed when I ran my nails lightly over his back. He knew that I liked his mouth just below my ear, that a slow hand made me impatient, that impatience made me pull him closer.

He unhooked my bra and bent to take my nipple into his mouth. Pleasure sharpened through me. I held his shoulders as he moved to the other breast, teasing until my hips pressed against him on their own.

“Daniel.”

He lifted his head. “Too slow?”

“Much.”

He laughed against my skin and slid his hand into my underwear.

His fingers moved through the wetness there, sure from years of knowing me but responsive when my body changed.

I gripped his arm. He circled my clit until my knees weakened, then held me steady when I came, my forehead against his shoulder to muffle the sound.

He kissed my temple. For a moment neither of us moved.

His hands knew me. That was the problem. He could make my body open while some part of him stayed somewhere I could not follow.

I touched his jaw until our eyes met.

“What?” he whispered.

“Nothing.” The old answer came first. I swallowed it. “Stay here.”

I opened his belt.

His erection pressed hot and heavy into my palm when I freed him. He groaned into my hair, and the sound made heat gather low again. I stroked him twice before he caught my hand and backed me toward the bed.

“I need you,” I said.

His expression changed at that—softer, stripped of the teasing. “I’ve got you.”

He pulled off the rest of my clothes, then his, and came over me. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. I opened my legs, drawing him between them, and felt the blunt head of his cock at my entrance.

He met my eyes. I lifted my hips.

Daniel pushed inside slowly, filling me in one deep stroke that made us both exhale. I wrapped my legs around him and held on as he began to move. There was nothing uncertain about this. His mouth found mine; my body met his with the old, fluent rhythm we’d built over fifteen years.

“Look at me,” I whispered.

He did. His forearm braced beside my head, the muscles in his back shifting under my hands.

I watched the pleasure cross his face each time I tightened around him.

He reached between us and touched me, and the room narrowed to his fingers, the drag of his body inside mine, his voice rough at my ear.

My second orgasm climbed slowly, then broke. I bit down on his shoulder. Daniel thrust twice more and came with my name against my mouth.

Afterward he stayed over me until our breathing settled. Then he rolled onto his side and pulled me against his chest. Sweat cooled along my back. His thumb traced the faint mark at my hip from the waistband of my jeans.

“We should miss planes more often,” he murmured.

“We haven’t missed it yet.”

“We won’t.” He kissed my shoulder. “Tomorrow, you’re stuck with me.”

The phone lit on his nightstand.

Lauren’s name filled the screen.

Daniel’s arm loosened around me. “Jesus. She’s supposed to be meeting the attorney in the morning.”

The call stopped. A message appeared, then another.

I stayed where I was, waiting for him to settle back against me.

He sat up.

“Daniel.”

“If I don’t answer, she’ll keep calling.” He reached for his boxer briefs. “I’ll tell her she needs to write down her questions and wait until morning.”

The bed shifted as he stood. Cold air moved over the damp skin he’d left uncovered.

“Let it ring.”

He had already picked up the phone. He swiped to answer as he crossed toward the bathroom.

“Lauren. Slow down. What happened?”

His bare back disappeared through the doorway.

“Daniel.”

He looked around the frame, the phone still at his ear. I held out my hand.

“Hang up.”

He stared at me, confused less by the request than by the fact that I had made one. Then he muted the call.

“Hannah, she’s panicking.”

“She is always panicking.”

“I’ll be two minutes.”

“No.” I sat up and pulled the sheet across my chest. “You said tomorrow I’m stuck with you. I need to know you meant it.”

He put the phone facedown, but kept it in his hand. “I meant it.”

“This isn’t a regular vacation.” The words came out unevenly. “I’m asking you to choose our marriage for four days. All four. I can’t keep being the person who waits while you take care of everyone else.”

His face went still. “You’re my wife. Of course I choose you.”

Lauren’s voice came faintly through the phone. His fingers closed around it.

“Then turn it off.”

He stared at the black screen. “For the trip?”

“For the trip. Work can call the hotel if the building catches fire. Lauren can call her lawyer or anyone else she knows.”

“Okay.” He took the call off mute. “Lauren, call your attorney in the morning. I can’t do this tonight.” He ended the call before she finished answering.

“I mean it, Daniel.”

“So do I.” He held the side button until the power slider appeared, then shut the phone down and set it in the drawer. “No work. No Lauren. Four days for us.”

He came back to bed and pulled me close. I let him. I wanted to believe the answer counted even though I’d had to ask for it naked, with another woman’s name still bright behind my eyes.

The following afternoon, I placed the cream envelope between two folded dresses in my suitcase. Daniel was downstairs making Grace a snack while she finished packing for the weekend. I checked the hotel confirmation one more time and zipped the case closed.

My phone rang on the dresser.

The number belonged to a hospital.

I answered, and a woman asked if she was speaking to Hannah Mercer.

“Yes.” I sat on the bed.

“I’m calling about your father. Mr. Reed had a cardiac event this afternoon. He’s stable, but the physician needs to speak with you as soon as possible.”

Downstairs, Daniel laughed at something Grace said. The suitcase stood packed at my feet, the anniversary envelope sealed inside it.