Marriage Tested by His Midlife Crisis

Prologue

Melanie – Twelve years ago

“I can’t believe I’m getting married again in one week!”

Jen laughed at my girlish squeal, which I blamed half on my excitement at finally marrying Ryan, and half on the almost-empty pitcher of margaritas on the table in front of us.

It was the second pitcher of the night, the first having disappeared almost as soon as the server set it down in front of us.

My mom picked up her glass and swallowed the last of her drink, then looked around the table.

“Should we order another pitcher?”

I shook my head, as did Jen. I was feeling the effects of the drinks I’d already had, and I didn’t want to be hung over in the morning.

“Not for me,” I declined. “I have a metric crap ton of things to do before next weekend, plus the boys will be home after breakfast. I don’t have time to deal with the effects of too much tequila and bad decisions.”

My dad was watching the boys – my son Tanner, and my soon-to-be-stepson, Garrett, while we ladies went out for dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant. The boys were sleeping over at my parents’ house, and Dad planned to take them out for pancakes before bringing them home in the morning.

Initially, I hadn’t planned to do anything special before the wedding, having had an over-the-top bachelorette party before marrying my ex, Chad.

In hindsight, that party had been more fun than the actual relationship had been at that point.

That should have been my first clue that marriage to him would be a mistake.

Ryan’s best friend, Grady, had arranged for several of their friends, mostly from college, to get together tonight for a “kickass sendoff into glorious matrimony”, as Grady called it, so Ryan had insisted that I go out for the night, too.

“If nothing else, you could use a break to relax a little. Between the wedding preparations and you and Tanner moving in here, you’ve had a stressful few months.”

After just six months of dating, Ryan had proposed and I’d happily accepted.

Because we’d both been married and divorced before, and because we both had young sons to consider, we’d maintained separate residences during our almost year-long engagement.

Neither of us wanted to rush into anything, so although Tanner and I had spent most weekends staying with Ryan and Garrett, we’d only officially moved in a few weeks ago.

I hadn’t even had time to unpack everything yet, which was a problem since I still couldn’t find several pairs of my favorite shoes.

As I finished the last of my own drink and set my glass down, I glanced around the table, happy that I’d taken Ryan’s advice and called Jen, my best friend and co-worker, who had married my brother, Mark, after I’d introduced them several years ago.

Jen and my mom, along with my cousin, Sarah, and Grady’s girlfriend of almost a year, Miranda, had been thrilled to help me celebrate.

While the guys had gone to a place known for its prime rib and top-shelf whiskey, followed by renting out the back room of their favorite bar, I’d just wanted a low-key evening of good food, a few drinks, great company, and a few hours free from worrying about the caterer, and the flowers, and which box my damned shoes were in.

Miranda’s phone buzzed on the table in front of her, and she picked it up with a smile. A moment later, she flipped the screen around so I could see it.

She pressed play on the video and leaned in close so we could both watch.

Grady had taken a video at the restaurant of Mitch, their best friend from high school, making a toast to Ryan.

Mitch had moved to Denver after college, and I’d only met him twice when he’d been back to Indianapolis to visit.

I had to admit; I wasn’t a fan. Mitch was kind of an ass, but he, Ryan, and Grady had been close for years, so I kept my opinion to myself.

“Let’s raise a glass in mourning for the poor bastard who only has one week left as a single man,” Mitch snarked, shooting Ryan a cocky grin.

Ryan shook his head at him as a few of the others laughed, then immediately shot back, “Nope, no mourning needed. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world, and I haven’t been a single man since the day I met Melanie. The wedding just makes it official for the rest of the world.”

Grady reached over and clapped him on the shoulder in approval, and the other men raised their glasses.

“To Ryan,” they said, then took a sip of their drinks.

“To Melanie,” Ryan added, and they all drank again.

Grady then turned the phone around and said grinned into the camera, “And there you have it, folks. Ryan Davenport, committed family man and total fucking sap.”

The camera jostled a bit when Ryan apparently realized Grady was filming and tried to grab for it as Grady laughed and moved it out of his reach.

“Nice try, man, but I’m recording this for posterity. I’m gonna show it to your grandkids at your fiftieth anniversary party so they have proof that Grandma has had Grandpa wrapped around her pinkie finger all those years.”

The others joined in, laughing good-naturedly. Someone – Mitch, I think – called out that Ryan was “fuckin’ pussy-whipped”, causing Ryan to roll his eyes and turn back to face the camera.

“In that case, to my kids and future grandkids, I hope you all find a partner as incredible as I did. Love you, sweetness. I can’t wait to have one hell of a party with you in fifty years.”

With that, he winked and blew a kiss to the camera before the video ended.

My heart melted at his sweet words and Miranda nudged my shoulder as she grinned, “Awwww, you’ve got that man hooked.”

An hour later, I crawled into bed with a smile still plastered on my face. Miranda had forwarded the video to me, and I’d watched it about a dozen times since. I knew Ryan probably wouldn’t be home until the wee hours, but that man was so getting laid in the morning.

He crawled into bed a little after two, leaning over to press a soft kiss on my forehead before settling in on his side of the bed. I sleepily mumbled a greeting, and he apologized for waking me.

“It’s late, sweets. Go back to sleep.”

I awoke the next morning to a text from my dad.

Dad: We’re heading to breakfast and we’ll stop by the park afterward. That way they can run some energy off before they get home. We’ll see you in a few hours.

I sent a quick thank you text in returned, then smiled, grateful as always to have such supportive parents.

I’d been a single mom for almost five years now, receiving very little from my ex aside from the child support the court had ordered him to pay.

He did so, grudgingly, and skipped most of his scheduled visits with Tanner.

Chad was supposed to have him two evenings a week and every other weekend.

Instead, he’d averaged two evenings a month for the first three years and hadn’t seen him in at all in well over a year now.

My parents had stepped up though. They embraced being grandparents and loved to spend time with their grandson. That care and support had extended to Garrett from the moment I’d introduced them, just three months after Ryan and I had met.

They both loved having another grandson to spoil, and they didn’t let a little thing like DNA get in the way. I loved that about them.

Ryan shifted on the mattress beside me, his body curving around mine as he rolled over and draped his arm over my waist.

“That was my dad,” I murmured softly, not sure if he was actually awake or not. He tightened his hold on me, pulling me even closer and twining our legs together under the covers.

“The boys OK?” His voice was rough with sleep, and goosebumps broke out on my skin as his breath skated over the sensitive flesh on the back of my neck.

“Uh huh,” I mumbled, shivering at the sensation. “They’re going to the park after breakfast, so they won’t be back until closer to lunchtime.”

He pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder, then nuzzled his face in the crook between my neck and shoulder. My breath caught as his tongue licked a stripe from my ear to my collarbone. The goosebumps multiplied, and my nipples hardened at the contact.

“Did you have fun last night?”

His shifted his arm around my waist so that his palm was splayed out over my lower belly. My body came to life as his fingertips grazed the top of the tiny panties which were the only thing I’d worn to bed.

“Yeah, we had a good time,” I answered, although my mind blanked on the details of last night as his index finger traced the seam of my panties where the fabric covered my clit. My hips bucked ever-so-slightly, and Ryan’s sleepy chuckle reverberated in my ear.

“How was your night?” At my question, his body stiffened and he pulled his hand away. When he shifted to put some space between us, I turned my head so I could look over my shoulder at him. The look on his face had me sitting up to face him.

He pushed himself up to rest his back against the headboard, his expression grim.

“What’s wrong?” I asked hesitantly. A tendril of dread unfurled in my stomach, making me doubly glad I’d not overindulged on the margaritas last night.

“I need to tell you something, but I don’t want to upset you,” he began, which was pretty much a guaranteed way to upset a person.

I tucked the covers under my arms to hold them in place, uncomfortable with my nudity when we were clearly about to have a difficult discussion.

“Mitch tried to pull some shit,” he said, then hesitated. He reached for my hand which was resting in my lap, threading his fingers through mine. “Grady found out about when we got to the restaurant and told me what he was planning, so I put a stop to it before it could happen.”

The tendril of dread was joined by another, and then another, until my stomach was clenched.

“Tell me,” I demanded, barely daring to breathe.

Ryan squeezed my hand as if to reassure me, then looked me directly in the eye without flinching.