She reaches for her purse and gets up, leaving me on my knees. "Come on. Daniel's waiting."

She doesn't utter a single word on the drive home-and neither do I. I can only guess what she's rolling around in her head right now, but I'm predicting it isn't good.

We arrive at the apartment-our temporary home while visiting Sydney-and I can't believe this is how we've spent our first New Year's Eve as husband and wife. We walk toward our bedroom, me following her, and I totally expect her to slam the door in my face or tell me to find another place to sleep. She doesn't.

She's a little unsteady from Evan's painkillers so she leans over to hold the footboard as she kicks off her pumps. "I hope you know you're not putting your hands on me tonight."

I look at the time and see it isn't yet midnight, but it's close. This isn't how I want our first year to end so I decide to take a leap-one I hope doesn't land me on my face. "It's almost midnight. I don't want to go into next year like this."

Tonight's events aren't small, so I'm sure Laurelyn has things she needs to say. She's hurt and her wound can fester, causing damage to our marriage. As her husband, it's my responsibility to contain this infection known as Lana.

"We have five minutes before we begin two thousand fourteen. I want you to take these last moments to say anything you'd like. Rant and rave. Kick and scream. Tell me you hate the way I've lived and what I've done in the past. Tell me if I'm f.u.c.king up this marriage. Say or do whatever you feel you need to so we can move beyond this night. Let me have it good, babe."

I've stunned her speechless.

This is probably the stupidest idea I've ever had. She's incredibly hurt and angry so if she takes me up on this offer, I should expect her to say harsh things. But I want to give her this outlet. She needs it. "There's nothing you can say to make me unlove you, so go for it without looking back."

"I'm not doing it unless you do the same. Tell me the things you'd like to say yet choose to hold inside."

Is it possible to make these confessions, not discuss them, and move on as if nothing happened? It suddenly feels like a challenge-a game of truth or dare-and is no longer about Lana. This is something more and goes deeper than tonight's events.

Women are so different from men. We are p.i.s.sed off for a little while but get over it quickly. Women have long memories and hold grudges so this might not go well for me. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I can always handle anything you say, as long as it's the truth." I get this now. She wants my true confessions.

"I'll agree but only if you swear you'll have no regrets. You can't dwell on anything I say."

She's terrified but excited. At least that's what I think I see in her eyes. "Do your worst. Tell me your fears and the demons you hide."

I set the timer on my phone. "A three-minute confession. We squeeze in whatever we can in a hundred and eighty seconds. Say it, get it off your chest, and move on without discussion or explanations. When the timer ends, it's a new year, a new start. Do you agree?"

"Yes."

I press start on my phone. "Go."

She looks at me, bewildered. "I don't know if I can. I'm afraid."

She's overthinking this so I'll go first-starting with her sorry-a.s.s mother and father. "If your parents ever treat you poorly again, I'm telling them to f.u.c.k off, especially your mum. She really p.i.s.ses me off." Laurelyn's eyes grow large and she doesn't reply. I don't think that's where she expected me to start. "If you don't say anything, that means you forfeit your turn and I get to go again."

"I despise what you did with those first twelve women because of Lana. I understand it's irrational for me to be angry about things that happened before you knew me, but it doesn't stop me from being p.i.s.sed off every time I think about it-which is often." This isn't surprising to hear. I often think about her being with Blake, as well, although their relationship came before us.

Speaking of Blake ... this grievance is all on me but she should know the way I feel. "I'm furious with myself because I was tending to business instead of being with you the night Blake attacked you. I have to work very hard to not see the image of him on top of you with your dress shoved up to your waist." I look down because I can't look at her when I say the next part. It's bad. "And sometimes I wish I hadn't heard your voice telling me to stop because I wanted to kill him. I still do." I've probably scared the s.h.i.t out of her, but d.a.m.n, that feels good to get off my chest.

She doesn't give me time to dwell on what she thinks of hearing me say I want to kill Blake. "I worry you'll miss the thrill of being with other women."

I'd like to address that one-to tell her it isn't possible to ever be thrilled by the thought of being with a stranger after having something so real and true with her. But what we're doing now isn't about explanation; it's about confession. "I worry that one day you'll figure out I'm not worthy of your love."

"I'm terrified you'll decide I'm too complicated and not worth the trouble I cause you." Never. She's a complication I can't live without.

"I'm afraid you'll never get over my past and what I did with those other women." I'm worried more than ever now because she has admitted she thinks of them often.

"I'm still p.i.s.sed off that you almost added a fourteenth to your list of companions." Can't blame her for being p.i.s.sed off about that one-what a total f.u.c.k-up on my part.

"I'm scared you want to put off having a baby because you're not really sure you want to be with me forever." I check the time on my phone. "Thirty seconds left."

"I'm scared I'll be a s.h.i.tty mother like my mom." Not possible. She's nothing like her mother.

"I wasn't unhappy when you told me it was your birth control patch I had pulled off."

She narrows her eyes at me. "I'd beat you senseless with a handbag right now if I had one handy."

How can she think she'd be a s.h.i.tty mother? She already acts more like my mum than her own. "You're becoming more like Margaret McLachlan every day."

I hold up the phone and she announces, "Ten seconds."

It's her turn but I'm going again. We're almost out of time and I have something to say. "I want you to have my baby ... please say you will."

She says nothing and the timer alarms, signaling the end of our timed confession. My heart and mind feel clear. Do hers? Or was that the worst thing we could have done?

That was stupid of me to ask her to have a baby during a three-minute confessional. I want to know what she's thinking, but dammit, I can't ask. We agreed this wasn't about discussion.

I bet she's p.i.s.sed. She's already told me she'd think about it and I agreed I wouldn't pressure her. But now I have. And without giving her the option to respond if we stick to these stupid rules.

I have f.u.c.ked up again. Why do I keep doing this? "I'll find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Just give me a minute to grab something to sleep in and brush my teeth."

I take my sleep pants from the chest and go into the bathroom. I'm changed and finished brushing when L comes up behind me. She slides her arms around my waist and places the side of her face against my back. She's shorter and smaller so her image is almost completely hidden in the mirror. "I didn't ask you to sleep somewhere else."

"You told me to forget touching you."

"It doesn't mean you have to leave our bed."

I'm not trying to convince her to kick me out of bed but I know when I've f.u.c.ked up. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. Even I know I've done wrong, L."

"You've also done right." She kisses the bare skin on my back and then her touch is gone too soon. "Even I know that."

I watch her reflection in the mirror as she turns and lifts her hair. "Unzip me?"

I grasp the zipper of her black sheath dress and pull, letting my fingers graze her skin on the way down. I'm sure it's the most action I'll get tonight.

We're standing in the bathroom and I'm peeling her out of a dress following an incident with one of my former lovers. This is like deja vu because we've done this before. I recall being sent away that night, but not this time. She's letting me stay.

I'd like to kiss her bare shoulder. It's right there, so close to my mouth, begging me to place my lips against it, but I resist because I'm still not sure where I stand.

She catches the straps of her dress and eases them down her body. She wiggles as it slides down and tosses it onto the bathroom counter, leaving her in a black lacy push-up bra and a G. She's hot as h.e.l.l-like always-and I think this is my punishment for my earlier offenses.

I don't think I can take this. She needs to be covered if I can't touch her. And it doesn't need to be any of that s.e.xy stuff she usually wears to bed. As much as I love her in it, I don't want to see her in it tonight if I can't touch her. "I'll grab you one of my T-shirts."

"Don't."

She reaches behind her back and unfastens her bra before tossing it on top of her dress. I'm surprised by what she's doing because even at her angriest moments, I've never known her to be cruel.

I close my eyes because it's agony to see her this way when she's already told me I can't touch her. "Please don't."

"Please don't what?"

"Torture me." I wave my hands back and forth in front of her near-naked body. "Using this."

"Torture isn't my intention." She pushes her panties from her hips and shimmies out of them. They drop to her feet and she kicks them to the corner, leaving her wearing only black pumps. "Something you said changed my mind. I want you to touch me."

L's forgiving me? Forgetting tonight's events?

"What did I say to change your mind?"

"Shh ... it's against the rules to discuss anything we said during our confessional." She steps close so her body is pressed against mine. "It's two thousand fourteen. Let's start the year off right."

She begins at my top b.u.t.ton, making her way down until the front of my shirt is open. She brings my hand to her lips and sucks my index finger into her mouth as she removes my cufflink. She makes a show of sliding it in and out of her mouth, her tongue swirling. Then she moves to my other hand to do the same.

f.u.c.k, it's hot. I'm instantly hard.

She hops up on the counter, her b.u.m landing on my hand towel, and motions with her finger for me to come closer. When I do, she yanks the front of my trousers open and drags my zipper down. She pushes my pants and boxer briefs to my knees and wraps her legs around me. I put my hand on her b.u.m and easily slide her bottom to the edge of the counter.

She puts her hand around my rock-hard c.o.c.k and slides it up and down her drenched entrance. I flex my hips, trying to get inside her but she pulls away. I expect her to tell me she needs to insert the spermicide but doesn't. "Tell me I'm the only one."

"You're the only one, forever. It'll always be you, L. Never doubt that."

She wraps her arms around me and tilts her pelvis so my tip is pressing against her. "You're the only one I ever want inside me." She reaches around to my b.u.m and digs her nails in as she pulls me into her ... without birth control.

I don't think she's ovulating but this is still me inside her without contraceptive so anything could happen. And she's not telling me no. Her body is telling me the complete opposite as her legs alternate between squeezing hard and relaxing as she rides me on the bathroom counter.

Her arms are wrapped around my shoulders and her mouth is pressed to my ear, enabling me to hear every sound her mouth makes as she grinds her body against mine. Every moan, every grunt. Even the soft, breathless sound of her saying my name when she comes, followed by her whispering how much she loves me.

Her climax comes before mine but moments later when I come, I squeeze her hard and close when I empty myself deep inside her womb. "I love you too, L. Only you."

Things have been surprisingly good between Jack Henry and me since our New Year's confessional. Good isn't the right word. Great is more like it. Who would've thought that telling one another our innermost thoughts would be so healthy? I like this newfound depth in our relationship so much that I may ask him if we can do it again.

Jack Henry asked me to have his baby. Becoming parents is something he began talking about before we were married, but it seems to be on his mind all the time now-which means it's on mine constantly as well.

A baby. That's what I'm thinking about as I stand in Margaret's kitchen preparing the lasagna I'm making for Jack Henry's birthday party tonight, per his request. My mother-in-law comes to me with a bowl of chocolate frosting. She's baking his favorite cake, something she does for every member of the McLachlan family on their birthday. "I have extra. Want to help me clean the bowl?"

"Absolutely." She pa.s.ses me a spoon and I dig in. "OmiG.o.d. That is so good, Margaret." And it is. I've never tasted frosting this delicious. I can see why this is my husband's favorite but it makes me realize something. I've never seen him eat chocolate cake. Ever. I didn't know Jack Henry liked it. I'm his wife so how could I not know that? I bet it's this family history with the heart stuff. He exercises religiously and rarely indulges in things he considers unhealthy because he's fearful of ending up like his father and uncle. I'd like to ask Margaret about it but I don't want to introduce concerns if she hasn't already considered them.

"Did they start work on your music studio yet?"

"They poured the concrete early this week and said we could expect it to be finished sometime in May."

"I would think that's soon considering all the equipment that'll be installed."

One can antic.i.p.ate fast progress when she's married to a man with money and high expectations. "You know Jack Henry. He sets the bar high and expects everyone else to as well."

Margaret grins. "He gets that from his father. Henry is a hard worker. I'm not sure he would have ever retired if I hadn't cut him off."

"You cut him off of what?"

"Nookie." I giggle because the word itself is funny but hearing her say it makes it even more so. "I'm going to give you some advice because you're still a new wife-and because my son can be a little s.h.i.t at times. I know; I'm his mum." She looks around as though she's about to reveal top-secret information. "Nookie equals power and there's a reason he wants it from you all the time. It levels the playing field. Don't like something he's doing? Take the nookie away. Get the results you want. Need him to see things your way but he refuses? Withhold the nookie and he'll make the fastest att.i.tude adjustment you've ever seen. Want your husband to retire because he's going to work himself into an early grave and miss his grandchildren growing up the way he missed his kids? Close the gates of nookie and get your husband home with you instead of burying him. That's how you work it, darling. You use the power of the nookie to get the results you want."

Oh, my. She's a sly one. I could learn a lot from her.

Henry comes into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He bends down, searching for something, and Margaret sashays over to him. She whispers something in his ear and gives me a wink before returning to the sink of dirty dishes.

Henry grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and takes a big swig. "You girls have been standing in here on your feet for too long. Go rest a minute and I'll wash these dirty dishes for you."

Wow. What a sweet father-in-law. "Thank you, Henry." I give him a kiss on the cheek as I pa.s.s by. "You're so thoughtful."

Margaret and I go into the living room and put our feet up. "Don't be mistaken, Laurelyn. That was not the offer of a thoughtful man."

"You used the power."

"Yes, I did, and you want to know what's so brilliant about it? I still love being with Henry after all these years so I'd have given it to him anyway. h.e.l.l, I'd probably have instigated it myself, so it's win-win."

"You are the master." Margaret is so cool. I think I just fell in love with her a little more. "What time is everyone coming?"

"Seven."

Perfect. That gives me plenty of time to go to the apartment and get ready. "Who should I expect?"

"It's normally only family but we're having extra guests tonight. Chloe is bringing the new guy in her life and three of Jack Henry's mates will be joining us."

"I didn't realize Chloe was dating anyone."

"It's still new so we've not met him, either."

Wow. A few weeks. I guess I've been too busy if I've missed something important like that. "That's great."

"I hope Jack Henry doesn't try to shake him down too much. I may need to speak to him before the dinner-maybe ask him to take it easy since he can be hard on her fellas sometimes."

I can see him being like that, but she's an adult, the same age as me. "Why is he hard on them?"

"It's how he is. He's always been incredibly protective of her since the day she was born." She laughs. "He wouldn't even let Evan near her for the longest time."

"I haven't seen him be overly protective with her."

"He's lightened up since you came along."

"I guess she's glad of that."

"I suspect she is," Margaret agrees.

We sit with our feet propped and Margaret tells me stories about Jack Henry as a child. I can't stop smiling because I'm picturing this beautiful boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes getting into the mischief she's describing.