Too Late for Sorry (Chasing my Wife Back)

t the center, its golden-brown crust glistening, surrounded by bowls of buttery mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread rolls still st

l had insisted on, balloons tied to the chairs, a small "Happy Birthday" banner tucked against the

er dress, an elegant navy-blue gown that hugged her figure yet looked effortlessly graceful, her hair curled neatly around her shoulders, m

, her small arms wrapped around herself as though she were trying not to fall asleep while waiting. Amelia's chest tightened. She turned back toward the table, scanning the feas

h and lowered herself beside her daughter

t, Mommy," she whispered, h

of hair from Hazel's forehea

keeps him longer than he wants. I'm su

lips t

day is his birthday. H

her head. "Maybe he is just running late. We will keep the food wa

her chest, though her eyes

e quiet room and startling both of them. Amelia glanced at it quickly. It was

her head, w

hat D

ently, setting the phone bac

trying to keep her calm. She didn't want to explain

*

t cozy in its own way. The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the cream-colored walls in a m

ted against his bare chest, her breathing steady and light in the afterglow of their intimacy. The sheets were tangled

he room, broken only by the rhythm

re shooting upright, the duvet falling off his torso. The sudden movement jolted Vivian, who stirred, her full artific

y, his voice rough with urgency. He stretc

reen l

ce sti

his voice breaking the fr

dened, her sleep

she asked, worry sli

to her, his ja

ne a.m. alrea