Other things? Like what? She toyed with her bottom lip. It was a familiar hesitation. There was more to come. Not entirely sure he wanted to hear it though. Seriously, there were other things to work on? News flash to him and a knock to his ego.

“I was happy, Brock. But I was complacent happy. Hot husband. Quiet life. No worries. But now I want more.”

He stilled his head from a harsh welcome-to-reality shake, all shocked and defensive. She hadn’t been happy? What on earth was complacent happy? The flight attendant who’d offered him a soda then a bourbon tinkered nearby, and he could tell she was listening. This was a very private conversation, and it was about to happen in a very public place. The other passengers felt too close. Prying eyes and ears awaited his faults not just as a protector, now also as a husband.

If Sarah could wait until they had the white noise of flying, that’d be his preference. His fingers wanted to tap, but his brain was pulling rank and telling him to shut up and listen. If Sarah would give him a chance, why risk losing it again? “More. Okay. You want more.”

Her participation meant an interest in bringing his family home again. So he could man up and do more. He needed to know what more was, but he could do it. Weren’t too many things in life he couldn’t do. A little guidance would be necessary. More seemed vague. More was unexpected.

His collar felt tight as he swallowed a lump of uncertainty. “I’m game. But…”

“But what?” Her brown eyes narrowed.

“I think better in terms of specifics. Strategic objectives. Tactical maneuvers.”

A tiny, relieved smile upturned the corners of her lips. “You’re looking for a battle plan?”

Now she was speaking his language. “Actually, I had a battle plan, angel. But more may’ve just thrown me.”

“You show me yours; I’ll show you mine.”

Every dirty thought he’d ever had about his wife came up in intense detail. Showing her goods wasn’t what Sarah meant, but she never had shied away from what she wanted. Right? After two kids and ten-plus years together, they didn’t have a problem in the bedroom. Still, it didn’t keep his imagination in check.

“Brock?”

Back to the more conversation. “Yeah?”

“You got me on this plane, now what?”

Sharing his battle plan with the enemy was a no-go. But she wasn’t the enemy. Sarah was the goal. Bringing her and the girls back home was his objective. All the details that went into his plan were mission critical. He’d need a little forgiveness and acceptance of his explanations. He agreed that she’d lobbed their marriage away because she was traumatized, not reacting clearly. Healing was needed. How upfront should he be with his tactical maneuvers?

Decision made: tell her the end goal. “I don’t want to go home until I know we’re really going home. Together.”