***

One solid week. That was how long it took to sober up and keep down a meal.

One solid hour. That was how long Brock had sat a few houses down from his mother-in-law’s house. He contemplated how badly his rehearsed speech sucked then glanced at the dashboard clock.

He gave a self-imposed deadline. One minute to pull it all together. His mother-in-law had left Sarah alone at the guest house, and the kids weren’t at home either. They were at school. What a novel concept. Brock walked up the driveway, past the main house, to the backside of the property. The guest house loomed ahead.

The only thing he knew for certain was that his life awaited him on the other side of the door. He twisted the knob but stopped. Took his hand off and sucked down a breath and ignored the urge for a drink. Barging in wasn’t the right move. Knocking was. Knocking to see my wife. This blows.

Two quick raps and he stood there, unsure what to do with his arms. He ran a hand over his freshly shaven jaw. Checked his hair in a reflection on a nearby window and then pocketed his fists into his jeans to keep his fingers from tapping.

The door didn’t have a peep hole, and she couldn’t see who was there from the front windows. The angles were all wrong. He tried to ignore how this house had little in the way of security, not that his ramped-up safety measures had kept his family from danger.

The door cracked and Sarah peered out, one big brown eye wide open. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi.” His heart clutched. What was he doing here?

“Brock?”

He couldn’t read her voice. “I’d like a chance to…” To what, explain? Justify? Beg? His mind remained blank. “Can I come in?”

She pulled back. “No.”

He’d expected that. The muscles in his chest tightening and the ache in his throat, he hadn’t. “Five minutes, then I’m gone.”

“No.” She inched the door closed but didn’t click it shut.

The Sarah he knew had been bubbly and smiling. This surprised version of his wife seemed hardened. How someone could give an impression like that while only showing an eye and saying a few words, he didn’t know. But he knew he couldn’t leave. Not yet.

“Three minutes.” How would three minutes make a difference when he couldn’t string his thoughts together and—

“Fine.” She swung the door wide.

He lost his thoughts again. It’d been weeks since he’d seen her. Titan missions lasted that long, but today was different, and wasn’t she the most beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on.

Her petite frame that always fit under his arm, her perfect freckles that he could map in the dark. The way her auburn hair fell over her shoulders. How familiar it always smelled, like sunshine and summer.

“Three minutes. Then it’s good-bye.” Nothing in her tone was sunshine or summer.