I can tell that Seth is emotionally drained. He hadn't been prepared to release all that pent-up energy just yet, but I can see the droop in his shoulders. The burdens he's been carrying around for so many months have finally been released. He looks like he could drop into a coma and sleep for a week. I wouldn't stop him. There's no doubt we both need rest. I just hope this moment will be the beginning of something new. I hope that from now on we can just keep moving forward, birthing a new love between us. A love filled with passion and trust.

"I won't be sleeping in here tonight," Seth vocalizes a moment later, and my eyes snap up to watch him stand from the bed. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and then spins slowly around to face me. "Believe me, I want to, but I just can't right now."

I nod carefully, appreciative of his honesty—no matter how much it hurts to hear. He's not just showing me respect by giving us some space, he's respecting himself and his own heart. I've already hurt him enough. It's suddenly so clear—all the pain and weariness pulling at the lines of his face. He's so beautiful, even when standing on the brink of emotional defeat, and yet, all I feel is guilt for putting those lines there.

I want to wrap him up in my arms and beg him to understand. I need for him to listen to me for just a minute, to listen to my side of the story... but then I realize I have nothing to say. I have no reason for the things I did. I don't think I even realized I was doing them. I was just so excited by my new career those two years ago, and as I got busier, so did Seth. In my mind, it had been a mutual decision to put our careers first. I'm not sure why I didn't stop things right then and there, because I'd never encourage putting a job before my family. And yet, I did just that.

Maybe I should be angry right now. Maybe I should beg him to love me back, but I can't do that. It's not his fault that his heart can't reciprocate my feelings, because, ultimately, it's my fault that he can't. He once said that he didn't know what he'd do with himself if he lost my heart. My response was simply for him not to lose it. But how could he possibly hold onto it when I was the one who plucked it from his hands?

If I'd stopped for just a moment and taken a look at where our marriage was headed, things could have been so much different. I need to get my head and my heart on the same team, because right now, they seem to be working against each other. My head wants success, my heart wants Seth. What a disaster I've created... all on my own.

It's unforgivable, really. To think that the person creating all my pain was actually the one hurting the most. It makes my heart want to shy away from beating. I can't even lift my heavy limbs from where they lay limp at my side. I've still got Seth's phone cradled in my palm, but the screen went to sleep long ago. There's nothing more to see. He's been honest with me from the get-go, and yet, I was furious at him for appearing unfaithful. How can someone be furious at an assumption? I'd been willing to destroy our marriage all over a suspicion. Why didn't I just let him explain?

I'm so stupid.

I watch Seth leave the room, making sure to mutter a goodnight to him as he shuts the door. He offers a nod and a relaxed smile, but nothing more. And then he's gone.

I don't sleep. My dinner sits cold on the side table, my stomach refusing to indulge in what I know to be the world's best Mac and Cheese. I just can't though. Even smelling it is difficult. My gut is twisted so tight with remorse that I know I wouldn't be able to keep any food down if I tried.

I huddle beneath my blankets, tears staining my pillowcase as regret eats away at the protective sheath coating my nerves. I feel raw—on edge. Every creak in the night, every howl of a coyote—it all has me jerking into alertness. I keep hoping that it's Seth coming to wrap himself around me as he whispers apologies and dreams in my ears. And then I realize that he's got nothing to apologize for—nothing serious anyway when compared to my faults. Sure, he had just as much of an opportunity to sit me down and hash things out as I did, but in the end, I was the one slowly pushing him away.

Night moves dreadfully slow, but finally, daylight trickles into the darkness, bringing a sense of renewal with it. I'm ready to start fresh. I'm ready to be the wife I should have always been. I'm even a little bit excited.

I pull myself out of the covers, the day just barely awake, and creep out through the bedroom door. I see Seth, his chest rising and falling as he lays shoved into the tiny couch. His knees are bent—because it's the only way he'll fit into the tight space—and the thin blanket he must have been using is now a pile of material on the floor.

I stealthily move through the living room, stopping to drape the blanket over him before rounding the corner into the kitchen. The weariness I'd witnessed last night must have been severe because he doesn't even stir with my presence. I smile, remembering his sleeping form, wishing that he felt that relaxed in his waking hours. Someday. That's all I can hope for... a peaceful marriage someday. Now would be too soon, but thankfully it's never too soon to start trying, which is what I plan on doing now.

They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so here I am whisking eggs, sizzling bacon, and pouring blueberry-filled batter into muffin tins. We're going to be having ourselves a feast.

It's Monday morning, and we're supposed to be out of here by noon. I'm sure Seth has plans to leave earlier than that though since he's needing to get to the office. His boss is aware that he'll be late, but knowing Seth, he'll be up and ready to go by eight. That'll give us enough time to get him back to the office before noon.

I watch the clock as the muffins bake. The eggs are done and I've stuck them in the microwave in hopes of keeping them warm. I'm shocked that the smell of food hasn't awakened all of Seth's senses. This could mean one of two things: he's really tired, or he's dead.

And then he crosses the threshold into the dining room and I realize there's a third option. His hair is still damp, and his clothes are hugging his skin with an eagerness I can relate to. That's always something that bothered me before—his inability to dry off properly after a shower, causing all his clothes to cling to his damp flesh—but right now, I'm not complaining at all. He looks good. Really good. Painfully good. If we decide to limit our activities in hopes of spending more time together, then the gym is definitely one activity I refuse to let him drop. If anything, he better be working even harder because I expect to be utterly speechless when I finally get to run my fingers over those tight muscles.

He watches me as I drink him in. I don't bother hiding my appreciation. There's no need to. He's my husband. I'm allowed to gawk if I want to, even if we're in a rather unstable place right now. During our conversation last night, I'd asked straight up if Seth really did want to make us work—even after everything I'd done—and he'd just sat there. I couldn't quite read his expression, but my instincts told me that he was shocked. Confused, even. Then he'd shook his head and narrowed his eyes at me, tilting his head slightly in bafflement.

"Of course it's what I want."

That's all he said because I really don't think he knew what else to say. I realized later how stupid that question was. He'd just spent so much time convincing me of his innocence and proving that he didn't want a divorce, and then I asked him that. It didn't quite make sense, but after all the poor communication we've had these past couple of years, I just wanted to be sure. It was time to start asking direct questions and getting direct answers.

I wipe the memory of last night away and pull the eggs from the microwave. I step into the dining room and place them on the table. Turning, I smile up at Seth.

"Have a seat," I tell him.

He quirks a brow at me, but I can see the appreciation in the half tilt of his lips.

Breakfast goes by without a hitch. We don't talk much, but there seems to be an understanding between us. From here on out we're going to try. We're going to do our best to improve our relationship, even it means lots of awkward tension in the beginning.

Once the dishes are cleaned and put away, Seth and I pack up our things. We've got his truck ready to go within half an hour. I haven't showered, but I don't care. Seth's already seen me at my very worst. Adding greasy hair to my list of ugly moments isn't going to make much of a difference. At least I've got deodorant on.

The truck is quiet as we make the quick drive to the Luxury Getaway office where we drop off the cottage keys. Then, we're headed home... back to reality. But before we're smacked back into reality, I've still got a few things I need to say to Seth. So, allowing the volcano of courage to build inside of me, I turn to face him. He shifts his eyes to me for a moment, his face twisted into concern as he silently lifts his eyebrows in question.

"Thank you," I tell him, flinging off my sandals and crossing my legs. I glance down at my thighs where I trace a small freckle with my finger. It's the only freckle that I'm aware of having, and I love the little guy.

"For what?" Seth inquires, letting his eyes scan my face for answers before glancing back at the road.

"For forcing me to listen." I tug my knees up to my chest, twisting to face the windshield. "I'm sorry that things got so ugly. If only I'd known..." My words fade off as sorrow tightens my throat.

I can see Seth's lips as he parts them to answer, but my phone is breaking into his response before he can really verbalize it. Glancing down, I silence it and return my attention to Seth.

"I just—" I pause, considering how I want to word my next thoughts. "I know we've still got so much to talk about. I've still got questions that I'd like answered, and I'm sure you do too." I scoot my hair around my neck so it's all resting on one shoulder. Then I tilt my head to the side, peering up at Seth. "Just to clarify," I start to say, a smile breaking across my lips, "I can't stand Steve." I don't miss the grin that instantly comes to life on Seth's face. "Seriously. He drives me mad."

I hear Seth chuckle and I hurry to glimpse the sparkle in his eyes as he quickly glances at me.

"That's good to know," he says, resting one elbow on the windowsill of his door and using the other to steer.

"Just the other day, I was realizing how irritating the guy was," I explain. "So it's funny that you thought—"

My phone rings again and I scrunch my brows in concern when I see it's my dad calling again. I peer over at Seth and he must see the worry on my face because he's dropping his elbow from the window and taking the wheel in two hands as he observes me.

"It's my dad," I tell him. He doesn't verbally ask, but I can see the question on his face. "He knows where we are this weekend, so I don't think he'd be calling unless it was important."

"You should answer it then," Seth urges, and I nod once in agreement before lifting the phone to my ear.

"Hello? Dad?"

"Mercy." I don't know if it's the strain in his voice or the whispered panic hidden in the simple word, but I'm instantly sitting up straight, my feet landing on the floor of the truck. "It's your mom..."

"What?" Somehow I already know what's coming. The dread, pounding adrenaline into my veins, is a clear sign that something has happened. I feel my body tense, preparing for my entire world to be ripped apart. "Dad?"

"She, uh..." He's tongue-tied. He doesn't know how to tell me. He doesn't know how to carefully break my heart.

"What is it, dad?" I nearly yell, but my throat has closed in and it's mostly air that leaves with the terror-filled question.

"Mercy." His voice is tight. I can hear him trying to hold himself together. He's trying to be strong, but the moment the words leave his mouth, my entire world explodes.

They say that shock happens in slow motion, as if you're just standing there unable to react to the new information. That's not how I experienced it. I don't even need for him to finish before my surroundings are closing in on me. Everything's moving so quickly, and yet, I don't miss a single detail of this moment. The strained tone of my dad's voice, the echoey thumping inside my hollow chest, the wind swirling my hair around my head. I notice everything, and yet, my mind is only focused on one thing. My dad's words... because they've just changed everything.

"Your mom's been in an accident..."

There's a heavy pause as he gives me a moment to comprehend what he's saying. I hear him choke and I'm already breaking. My assumptions have gotten me into trouble on many occasions, but right now, I'm assuming the worst. Only this time I'm not wrong.

I let my dad's words ricochet around in my mind, my body instantly trembling because I can't fathom what I'm supposed to do now. How am I supposed to survive this three-hour drive without combusting with the overpowering aches of this new truth?

Your mom's been in an accident...

...an accident...

...accident...

"She didn't make it."