Page 133 of Perfect Satisfaction

My grandfather has a right to be disappointed in me—I did this to my wife by not confronting her and hiding like a wounded bear. “I should have come after you.”

That startles her. “Why didn’t you?”

A familiar wave of shame comes over me. “Because I couldn’t work up the nerve to give someone the apology due to them first.”

“Who is that?” Cute wrinkles form between her eyes.

“Angela”

Her whole body shudders before she relaxes against me. “I’ll accept that.”

My forehead drops to hers. “Sula?”

“Hmm?”

“Not every man can say he fell in love with his wife twice. I’m grateful I’ve had the chance.”

We stand there for a long while, just holding each other. Then Gramps yells, “Fire’s ready. Where are my damn marshmallows?”

Sula begins to giggle, and I tip her chin up. “Guess what I found?”

“What?”

I press a kiss to her lips. “Graham crackers.”

“Oh?”

“And chocolate.”

“That always piques my interest.”

I love when she uses words like that. Just for that, I pull her closer to my hips so she can feel the erection forming behind my jeans. “You do know that’s what makes a s’more, right?”

“Yes. I’ve just never... wait! You have all the ingredients?” Suddenly it’s Sula dragging me to the kitchen.

I breathe, “My Moore.”

That stops her in her tracks. Voice trembling, she murmurs, “Arek.”

“You’ll always be my Moore.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be,” she replies. The simple honesty of that statement undoes me.

My eyes close on a wave of shame. That’s all she wanted. And I... Yeah, what I said to my grandfather was a complete understatement.

I royally fucked up my marriage.

Over pride.

CHAPTERSIXTY-NINE

Thinking back, I realize I never formally apologized to Brendan Blake, Danielle Madison, Ursula “Sula” Moore, or any of the individuals involved with the photo printed by this magazine the night of Sula's birthday earlier in the year.

StellaNova cooperated fully with the police when questioned as this crossed a line we do not condone—the physical assault of a person to make money.

We wholeheartedly regret every aspect of printing that article.

—StellaNova