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I cock my head. “When?”
“When we get out.”
“What?”
“We’re taking a long weekend.”
“Where are we going?”
“That part,” he says, “is a surprise.”
“What about the kids?”
“They’re staying with Beth’s family.”
“They hate the Joneses.”
“They’ll manage,” he says convincingly. “It’s only three days.”
“But—”
“Josie—stop. I’ve packed you a bag. It’s done,” he pulls me closer. “Now, just enjoy it.”
The flight attendant brings two champagne flutes. I take a photo and post it to Instalook with the hashtags #surprisetrip #wherearewegoing #besthusbandever #blessedlife
I feel guilty for leaving the kids with the Joneses. They’re hardcore about daily prayer and ritual, and more than anything, I’m afraid that one or both of them will slip up. We’re not nearly as disciplined in our home—not that the Jones’s know that. But I guess they will now.
Grant pulls something from his carry-on. I’m checking the number of likes on my Instalook post when he slips something into my lap. I look down. A little blue box rests on my thighs. “For you,” he says. “I want this trip to set things right between us.”
My eyes light up. “I want that too,” I tell him, lifting the lid from the box.
I gasp when I see the diamond bracelet. It’s gorgeous. A woman from across the aisle stares. The flight attendant asks if she can take a peek. She asks if we’d like her to take a photo to mark the occasion. She thinks it’s our anniversary. “How many years now?” she asks.
“Eighteen,” I tell her.
“Well,” she smiles. “Aren’t you lucky?”
“I’m the lucky one,” Grant pipes in. I can see by the way she looks at him she’s enamored by his charm. His money doesn’t hurt. But his looks kill.
She snaps the photo, and I post it to Instalook. Caption: And there’s more. #hejustgetsbetter #blueboxlove
Grant places his hand on my thigh. “So you like it then?”
“I love it,” I promise. I lean over and kiss his cheek.
“Good,” he quips. “Now, I need to focus.” I look on as he pulls a book from his bag and opens it. I pull up Instalook. “Oh—” he says, pulling another book from his bag. This one I’d recognize anywhere. It’s my Bible. “Beth suggested you study Proverbs. I have several passages bookmarked.”
I put my phone away. We don’t speak for the rest of the flight.
Later, after we’re checked into our hotel, and I’ve snapped a few photos of the view from our balcony for Instalook, with the hashtag #scottsdaleitis, Grant takes my hand and leads me to the bed. I go willingly, because I can’t take one more minute of silence nor of staring at words I can’t find meaning in.
Ever since we’ve landed, he’s taken work call after work call. Something has blown up, and I can see that it has him on edge. I try to be understanding. When he steps out to take another call, I check on the kids. They don’t seem as annoyed as I’d figured they’d be.
After I end the call, I unpack both our suitcases. By the time I finish, and he still isn’t back, I check Instalook. I converse with fans for a bit about sights we should check out while in the area, and then I resume half-immersing myself in my required reading material. I don’t yet understand what I’m supposed to be looking for in the text, but I know it’s just a matter of time before it becomes apparent. I’m just about to give up when he comes back.
“Sorry,” he says. “This is what I get for trying to get away.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, motioning toward the phone. The calls, the intrusion into our lives, it isn’t abnormal. I’m trying to be kind.
