The mystery that is Seth has yet to be cracked. I try to be nice, I try to show him how I feel without being too pushy, I try to make him happy, and still nothing. I put him on a plane today, wishing him a magical journey and loads of fun with his old friend. That was nine hours ago. I told him to text or call when he landed, but I haven't heard a single chime resonate from my phone since he departed.

I push the thoughts away, telling myself he and Jamison are probably gabbing incessantly about their lives and he just hasn't had a chance to shut up long enough to call. Still, this odd sensation of icy metallic numbness won't stop creeping around in my gut. I've got a bad feeling about this and I'm the only one to blame. This whole fiasco was my idea. I basically shoved him out the door and said adios. Clearly, he wasn't thrilled about having me plan his weekend for him. Such a control freak... him, not me.

That being said, I do hope he can let go of his anger toward me for a couple of days and just have some fun. Who knows, maybe this experience will change his life and he'll come back a new man. It doesn't hurt to hope, right?

Only... it does.

Two days later, Seth barges through the front door. I glance up from my TV show, startled, and then quickly check the time on the clock hanging in the dining room.

"You said your flight was delayed!" I gasp, my words sounding slightly panicked with his sudden intrusion.

"No, I didn't." He doesn't look at me as he kicks off his shoes. "I said it might be."

And with that, he's throwing his bags on the floor and escaping to the bathroom. He doesn't come out for another hour, and by then I'm wondering if he was so pissed that he actually drowned himself in the bathtub.

When he finally does emerge, a hint of warm vanilla and fresh pine follows him. It's an oddly enticing scent, and it's calling to me like a steak calls to a wolf. Seth's cologne is a smell I've grown accustomed to and, though it's been ages since I last smelled it, it seems to be the only thing about him that hasn't changed.

A strange realization collides into a heap of chaotic thoughts as Seth comes to join me on the couch. It's the realization that this seems to be the first time I've smelled that scent in a long time. He always smells clean, like his spicy citrus shampoo, but in the last several months, he hasn't even bothered with cologne... until now.

Maybe he made plans tonight. It's not uncommon for people to want to smell nice, right? Whether it's a business meeting or a date, people want to make a good impression. I'm hoping that in this scenario it's business-related. Only, there's no way he'd wear sweat pants to a meeting. Additionally, there's no way he'd wear sweat pants on a date either.

Relief whirls through me like a tornado. This could only mean one thing then, right? I eye him subtly, taking in his appearance. He's wearing my favorite shirt—the one that hugs him in all the right places—and he smells like a sizzling enchanted forest.

Is all of it for me?

I glance over at him, but his eyes are trained straight ahead. Feeling brave, I slide my foot across the cushion and nudge him in the thigh. His eyes divert from the screen, and he shoots me a curious look, his brows lifted in question.

"I'm really sorry," I tell him.

I'd love to ask why he's smelling so darn good, but I'd hate to make a big deal out of something that he's hoping to be discreet about. I can understand that. I once paid for my Uncle Rich's car repairs and he never let me live it down. He made such a scene about it actually that I've yet to show him any other acts of kindness—other than what's expected of me. So, in fear of Seth never spurting himself with his Tom Ford cologne again, I hold my tongue.

"It's okay," he answers, his brows smoothing out into a genuine look of appreciation.

I stare at him for a moment, trying to decide if the genuine look on his face is actually as genuine as my heart hopes that it is. He must notice my lack of reaction because his hand grazes the top of my foot in what can only be described as a touch of affection. My eyes nearly explode from their sockets by this surprisingly warm gesture.

"I mean it," he says, his voice soft. "It was just a mix-up of communication. I can't be mad at you for my inability to clarify my schedule."

I nod, noticeably dumbfounded by the man sitting beside me. I don't dare move my foot because his hand still rests gently on top of it. The heat radiating from his palm seems to be traveling to my sweat glands with dangerous speed. My entire body is lit up with hot energy, but I continue to watch him, my brows cocked in wonder-filled confusion.

"Okay," I croak, hating the doubt coating my throat with a scratchy thickness. I cough and try again. "I'd say we're both somewhat at fault." I'm relieved that my voice sounds smooth. The astonishment roaring through my veins is no longer evident in my words. "Maybe we could work on talking a bit more." It comes out as more of a question, an odd feeling of insecurity flittering through my chest, but when I see Seth smile, my body relaxes.

"I'd like that."

I return his smile. "Okay."

He nods, his lips stretched upwards as he turns his head back towards the TV. "Okay."

———

Since agreeing to try and do better about talking, Seth and I have been getting along surprisingly well. Our routine hasn't changed much, but he doesn't seem to be pushing me away either. When I decide to test my boundaries by scooting closer on the couch or offering a hug before he leaves for work, he accepts my actions. I wouldn't say he's all that enthusiastic about reciprocating my hugs, but he's not shoving me away, and that's progress.

With dinner done and dishes washed, I decide to do a little work in my shop before heading to bed. Seth hasn't returned from work yet, which is actually slightly unusual these days, but I can't say I'm all that surprised. At least I don't have to feel guilty about working now.

I've been sanding a table for nearly an hour when I hear a truck door close. I'm tempted to glance out and see who it could be, but at this time of night, I'm nearly positive it's Seth. I keep on working, figuring he'll realize I'm out here when he sees the lights shining out from the cracks of the door. My assumptions were correct.

Twenty minutes pass before a knock sounds on the door. A moment later is creaks open. Seth's head pops around the side and my heart sputters to life when I see the timid smile gracing his face. My presence doesn't commonly bring about such a reaction, but for some reason, he seems to be pleased to find me.

I push my safety glasses to the top of my head and throw the square of sandpaper onto the table as I stand up straight.

"Hey," I greet, matching his smile with one of my own. "How was work?"

He groans, but his smile doesn't disappear completely. "Long," he says, stepping inside my shop and glancing around. His eyes skim across the tables I've completed and his feet follow his gaze as he nears the tables and runs a hand over the top. "Wow."

He doesn't look at me as he voices his astonishment, but it warms my heart nonetheless. Seeing his appreciation for my work is not something I get to witness very often and I can feel pride swelling behind my chest as he silently paces the area, eyes wide.

"These are incredible," he says, turning to face me. His face is crinkled as a look of respect radiates from his eyes.

"Thanks."

For some reason, I feel uncharacteristically bashful with his simple compliment. It's not like he hasn't praised my work before, but this is different. It's been a long time since he's even set foot in my workshop, and it's been even longer since he's admired my designs. Today, hearing his approval, I get a warm gooey feeling pumping through my heart. It's almost as good as receiving a compliment from a total stranger. By that, I mean that typically loved ones and friends feel a need to encourage and praise you even when it's not deserved. Strangers though have no reason to spare your feelings. So you can trust that when they randomly compliment you, it's most likely genuine. Right now, Seth is raw and open... and completely genuine.

"I had no idea," he mutters, turning back to have another look at the desks I've been slaving away on. "No wonder you've been so busy." I hear the amusement in his voice and I can only stand there and gawk at the man before me. If I'm not mistaken, I'd say that Seth is actually taking a step forward in improving our relationship. I'm nearly ecstatic, and if I was one of those dramatic girls I'd probably be jumping and screaming into a pillow.

"Yeah," I laugh, stepping up next to Seth and peering at the piece of furniture I've poured more time into than is acceptable. That's time I could have been spending with Seth, fixing the broken pieces of our life. Guilt sweeps through me like a chilly breeze on a warm night. It causes an achy sensation to slither into my conscience.

I'm about to say something out of a desperate attempt to reverse the damage that we've caused our marriage, but he beats me to it.

He turns, facing me directly, his expression serious and amused all at the same time. I can see hints of the old Seth hidden between the lines of his handsome face. The man who found humor in almost every situation, and yet, he could be the most stoic person on the planet. He was a walking contradiction, but I found him beautiful. He was the perfect mystery for my ever adventure-seeking self.

"It's a bit late tonight," he starts to say, "and I've got to be at work early tomorrow, but how do you feel about doing something tomorrow?"

My mouth drops open slightly, but a smile follows close behind. To think that his thoughts were so parallel with mine proves that our minds aren't nearly as disconnected as I presumed.

"Actually," I say, "I was kind of thinking the same thing."

A grin pushes the corners of his lips upward. "Great."

"Well," I start to say, already regretting my words. "I'm pretty busy with this project these days. What if we waited 'til the weekend and then did something extra special?"

"Okay." He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, not seeming too bothered by the suggestion. Taking in a deep breath, I allow my shoulders to drop in slight relief. "What should we do?"

"Well," I respond. I'd actually been contemplating this for a little while now, and I'm thinking this could be the opportunity for the two of us to get in some good socialization without making things tense and awkward. I comb my fingers through my ponytail and then smile up at him. "I thought we could invite some of our old friends over for a game night."

"Oh." The smile on his face doesn't go anywhere, but I'm almost positive I see it falter slightly. "Yeah, that could be fun." He runs his hand through his hair and the result is adorable—strands sticking out at all different angles—it softens his defined features and gives me a strange desire to snuggle into him for a hug.

"We don't have to," I tell him. "If you wanted to just do something simple, we could grab dinner or a movie instead."

"No, no." I watch him shake his head, his brows dipped in consideration. "I think it could actually be fun. Who are you inviting?"

"The old gang?" I say, the suggestion coming out as a question. "None of them live all that far from here. We could just plan for them to come down this weekend or next. Trevor and Emma could stay in the guest room."

"Yeah. Okay."

What neither of us voice is that if we have Trevor and Emma stay in the guest room, then that will mean that Seth won't be able to hide out on the couch. The fact that Seth doesn't shoot down the idea at all gives me a dash of hope.

"Well, I'll leave the planning up to you," Seth says, taking another quick glance around the shop and then turning towards the door. "I'm going to head to bed."

"Okay," I offer with a smile. "Goodnight."

"Night."

———

While things have improved marginally between Seth and me, I can't say we're making as quick of progress as I'd hoped. He still sleeps on the couch and we still enjoy silent dinners in front of the TV. But, the subtle smiles and kind greetings we offer each other are a colossal change from the tension we used to survive in.

After making all the necessary phone calls, we've arranged for all our old friends—apart from Mike, who's stationed overseas—to visit for the weekend. After dropping out of college, Mike enlisted into the military and none of us have heard much from him since. Honestly, I didn't even really know the guy, so I'm not all that bummed by the idea of him not making it. I'm just excited to see some of my favorite peeps again.

I've just finished tidying up the house when the doorbell rings. I glance at the clock and internally clap when I realize who it must be. I shuffle to the door and swing it open, faking boredom when I spot Trevor and Emma on the doorstep.

"Oh, hi," I grumble.

Unfortunately, Emma knows me far better than I thought she did because instead of being offended by my dry humor, she pushes past me and into the house. Trevor offers an apologetic smile and leans down for a hug.

"Good to see you again, Mercy."

"You too," I say, returning his hug. "You haven't changed a bit."

He laughs as I gesture for him to enter. That's when I swing around to find Emma glaring at me. I don't miss the smile fighting for release behind her stern gaze.

"Mercy," she begins to reprimand. "You get your butt over here and you give me a hug."

"Gah!" I groan with playful irritation. "Fine."

But, just as I take a step towards her, something hits me directly in the face. It doesn't hurt, but it definitely startles me enough that I'm stumbling backward against the door. My hands swipe at the sticky, stringy gunk plastered to my face, and the moment my fingers recognize the texture, a laugh spills from my lips.

"This war will never end, will it?" I ask, prying an eye open and squinting at the girl standing in front of me with a can of party crazy string in her hand. She's posed to unleash more damage and I quickly clamp my eye shut again.

"If my memory is correct, it was my turn," she says, a sly smirk on her face. "Don't deny the fact that you deserve far worse than this."

"Nope," I say, shaking my head. "I definitely deserve worse."

My mind jumps back to graduation day when I'd coated her chair in bleach. It was pure evil, I admit. When she's stood up to accept her degree, the people seated behind her got a pleasant surprise. I hadn't used enough for it to soak through her graduation gown and her clothing, so she never even knew what happened. Patches of color had been eaten away from the fabric of her outer apparel, leaving a beautiful white-spotted imprint of her butt on lovely display.

Honestly, I've never been more proud of a prank in my life. The only thing that made it better was that she didn't even realize the problem until after she had crossed the stage and returned to her seat. Clearly, she's been holding a grudge for a while.

"Okay," I resign. "Just go at it and get it out of your system."

She doesn't even wait for me to finish speaking before I'm getting another face full. Her squeals of delight are enough to have me chuckling along with her. I fight to keep my mouth shut so I don't get the stringy foamy substance inside, but I fail. I'm sputtering and laughing by the time the can runs out. And then, before I can wipe my face clear of the string, I'm being tackled in a hug.

"Gosh, I've missed you," Emma says next to my ear and I squeeze her tight.

"Me too," I tell her honestly, stepping back. "No one has ever endured my pranks as well as you did all those years ago."

"It's only been like, what, three... four years?" she says, amused at my dramatics. It just feels like it's been so much longer.

"It just feels longer," she tells me, mimicking my own thoughts.

I smile at her and then glance around for the silent Trevor. He disappeared the moment Emma attacked me, but I never took him as the snooping type. My laughter bubbles out again when I find him sitting on the couch, a bowl of pretzels in his lap as he watches our reunion.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks, as he stuffs a handful of pretzels into his mouth.

I peer over at the table of snacks, spotting the empty space where the bowl once sat.

"That's what it's there for," I assure him, glancing at Emma with a look of amusement. She just shrugs, obviously used to his behavior.

Another knock on the door announces more arrivals, and I hurry over to answer it. I pull it open to reveal Lindsey, Shonice, and Grady. A few minutes later Lightning and Mallory arrive. Truthfully, I didn't know Lightning or Mallory all that well in college, but Emma mentioned they were in town and wanted to meet up with them. I figured this was the perfect opportunity for a college reunion, and since I'm in full support of the phrase 'the more the merrier,' I happily agreed.

Not even five minutes later, Seth saunters out of the bathroom smelling like an Abercrombie store. It's delightful. As he rounds the room, greeting our guests, I feel a sudden surge of pride. That's my husband right there. And even if he wasn't overly thrilled about having people over, he's doing a magnificent job of disguising his introverted-ness.

With a pop of a root beer cap—thanks to Shonice—the party has now begun.