Page 17 of Sin

That gets her attention. Jenna looks back at me carefully, like she’s weighing the conviction behind the words.

“Do you want it to?” she asks softly.

The question punches straight through me because the answer is immediate. Yes. I want Laurel Cross in ways that make me feel ashamed of myself. I want her mouth smarting from kissing me. I want her arguing with me while I pin her against the nearest wall. I want⁠—

I cut the thought off brutally.

“Yes,” I admit finally, the word rough in my throat. “But I’m not going to destroy my marriage over attraction.”

Jenna’s expression shifts strangely at that. Not relieved. Not angry. Just tired.

“Mason,” she says quietly, “I don’t think our marriage is hanging by as strong a thread as you think it is.”

The statement lands harder than I expect. Because despite everything—despite the separate bedrooms and awkward silences and years of distance—I never really let myself believe we could actually end.

Jenna exhales slowly. “You know what the saddest part is? When I saw the way you looked at Laurel today…” Her smile turns small and heartbreaking. “I realized how long it’s been since you looked at me like that.”

Christ. Guilt crashes through me so hard it almost makes me nauseous.

“Jenna—”

She shakes her head gently. “I’m not blaming you. I think we lost each other a long time ago.”

I stare at her across the room, this woman I built a life with, and for the first time in years, I wonder if we've both just been too afraid to admit the truth out loud. That maybe love stayed. But everything else quietly died.

“I’m not my father,” I say.

The words come out harsher than intended and Jenna's expression softens immediately.

“I never said you were.”

No. She didn't have to. Because we're both thinking it. My father destroyed our family for another woman. I remember every second of it. The screaming. The tears. The way my mother stopped smiling afterward. I remember standing beside her hospital bed years later while she cried over a man who wasn't worth the tears. I swore I'd never become him. Never betray my wife. Never chase temporary desire at the expense of the people who loved me.

And yet here I am.

“Honey, please.” The desperation in my voice surprises even me. “We've had rough patches before. We've survived them.”

I set my glass down and cross the room. Then I do something I haven't done in years. I kneel in front of her. Jenna's eyes widen slightly as I take her hands in mine. For a second, I'm nineteen again. Standing at an altar. Certain of everything.

“Tell me what I need to do,” I say quietly. “Tell me how to fix this.”

Silence. The kind that makes panic start creeping into my chest. Because for the first time, I realize she might not know the answer either. My heart pounds harder.

“Let's go to that retreat you mentioned. The couples therapy thing.” I force a smile. “The one in the Bahamas.”

That finally gets a reaction. A real one. Hope flickers briefly across her face before she can hide it.

“You'd go?” she asks carefully.

“Right now.” I squeeze her hands. “In a fucking heartbeat.”

And I mean it. God help me, I mean every word. Because maybe Wilder is right. Maybe I've been so focused on what feels broken that I forgot this marriage deserves one last real fight. One last honest attempt.

“Please,” I say.

Jenna studies me for a long moment. Then, finally, she nods.

“Okay.”