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leaving?”
    â€œTold you already, I’m going out with Michael.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me.”
    â€œI did too.” He appeared in the archway, bottles of Gatorade in hand. “It was this morning. Or maybe last night.”
    â€œWell, when will you be back?”
    â€œLater.” He turned to leave.
    â€œYou think, on your way, you could go by the store and—”
    The door slammed on her sentence and she clenched her jaw.
    Beside her, Robin was still looking through the album as though nothing had happened. “Oh, I love this one. You were such a beautiful bride.”
    Catherine dared not open her mouth. She nodded in feeble agreement, thinking how much easier it was for some people to hold on to the fairy tale. The reality was that this castle was no longer big enough for a fair maiden and her handsome prince.
    SIMMONS LEANED OVER the Sierra’s truck bed, his dark eyes taking in the blanket of greenery that stretched toward the woods. “That your property all the way out there?”
    â€œLast time I checked,” Caleb said.
    â€œAnd is that a pond I see back through those trees?”
    â€œI’ve never taken you out there?”
    â€œNo. But, uh, I’m not into romantic walks with my guy friends, thank you. You ready to bounce?”
    â€œReady.”
    â€œYou tell Catherine we’re going to the gym?” Simmons asked.
    â€œNah, she’s good.” Caleb opened the driver’s door. “Oh, hold on. I left my wallet inside, and I need to put some gas in this beast. Man, if I go back in there, she’s gonna think up some errand to send me on.”
    â€œI can go in.”
    â€œThen she’ll just ask you, and we’ll both be in the doghouse. Hold tight. I’ll be right back.”
    Caleb bounded back through the garage, turned the door handle slowly, and eased himself through the opening. He could hear Robin and Catherine still talking, could hear the flap of the wedding album’s pages and the crinkling of candle wrapping.
    â€œMmm, that smells so good,” Catherine said.
    â€œAren’t those incredible?” Flapp. “Oh,” Robin said, “I love this church. Does it still look like that?”
    â€œThat was many years ago. I have no idea.”
    Caleb glided into the kitchen on the soles of his tennis shoes.
    Flapp.
    â€œAnd your cake—oh my goodness, Cat.”
    Seven years ago, Caleb had been so enraptured with his new bride and thoughts of the honeymoon suite that he couldn’t even remember what flavor that cake had been. Vanilla? Carrot? A Christmas fruitcake, for all he knew.
    Flapp.
    â€œYour dress was so pretty, I can hardly stand it,” Robin gushed to Catherine. “Okay, so if you could go back to your wedding day and talk to yourself, what would you say?”
    No reply.
    Caleb palmed his wallet from the counter, then started to sneak back out, but his wife had still given no response and he found his curiosity getting the better of him. What did women talk about when the men weren’t around? Would she exaggerate his attributes, as guys were known to do? Brag about his earning power and the silky nightwear he’d bought for her last Valentine’s Day?
    â€œDon’t do it,” Catherine answered at last.
    Caleb froze.
    â€œWhat?”Robin said.“Don’t do it, as in . . . you wouldn’t marry him again?”
    â€œI mean, if you want me to be honest.”
    Caleb felt his head spin, knocked off balance by his wife’s confession. She didn’t mean that. Did she? Every couple had their ups and downs. It would pass. She was just being a woman, living in the emotions of the moment.
    â€œBut I thought you guys were doing pretty good, Cat. I mean, you’ve been married for seven years.”
    â€œSeven bland years,” Catherine responded. “I don’t know. We started off great. It was so romantic, but we just went downhill