And Essie was pregnant.

  Jesusfuck.

  “You can beat me tonight if you want to, Sir,” she offered as he locked the door behind them.

  “No, pet.” He shook his head. “I just want the world to settle the fuck down for thirty seconds so I feel like I can take a goddamned breath.”

  Later that night, after making love and him falling asleep in her arms, she studied his right hand, the fresh scrapes on his knuckles and fingers. She still hadn’t looked to see what he’d punched, but at least he was asleep.

  Although she’d hated the haunted fear in Sean and Max’s expressions tonight, there wasn’t anything they could actually do for them. They’d stayed for a while, but then Eliza had shooed them out when she realized Tony was leaving again Tuesday.

  And now…

  She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, trying to imprint it on her heart. He’d be leaving again for several more weeks, and while she hadn’t mentioned it, he’d likely be missing their wedding anniversary.

  Like hell would she say anything to him about it and stress him out. He knew when the date was. The last thing he needed right now was more stress on him from her. He couldn’t help it, and she knew it wasn’t what he wanted. No way would she blame him for it.

  She was an adult and knew he’d make it up to her when he came home.

  She only wished there was something she could do to take his mental and emotional burden off his shoulders for a little while.

  I love you, Sir. I hope you know I’m here for you no matter what.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Friday morning, Shayla had no problems getting out of bed on time. Fortunately, she didn’t need to be at the airport until at least nine, so she had plenty of time. Plus she’d packed the night before.

  All she had to do was grab a shower and get ready. Their neighbor was all set to take care of the babies for them until she returned Sunday evening. And since Tony hadn’t said anything about the plane tickets, she suspected he wasn’t checking her credit cards. Then again, he had no reason to. The card she’d used was in her name, even though he had one for that account, too, and she received the e-mail updates about charges.

  Sneaky, sneaky pet.

  It’d been three weeks since Tony flew back to Denver, and this weekend was their wedding anniversary.

  She giggled.

  Hell, if she hadn’t seen the promo e-mail yesterday morning she would have totally missed the opportunity. And okay, it was costing a couple hundred bucks, but she’d take it out of her fun money for the next month or two, if Tony decided she needed to.

  They could afford a little splurge like this every once in a while. It wasn’t like she was buying a car.

  Shayla knew she’d earn herself a spanking for lying to Tony about her meetings, but hopefully it’d be damn well worth it when she knocked on his hotel room door.

  I can’t wait to see the look on his face!

  She’d packed a few of his favorite implements in a very light suitcase that she’d checked because she knew she couldn’t put them in her carryon.

  She’d also included a few other goodies.

  Like lube, condoms, butt plugs…

  As she stood in the gate area and waited for her flight to board, she texted him.

  Meetings today, Sir. I’m turning my phone off. Love You.

  She was settled in her window seat by the time he replied.

  No worries, pet. Text Me when you can. Love you, too.

  She smiled, glad that they were going to get to have the perfect wedding anniversary after all.

  Because she was going to ask they turn off their damn personal cell phones until she flew home on Sunday. That way, only if he had a work emergency, or couldn’t take time off from working on the data center, would he have to think about anything except them.

  I can’t wait to see him!

  * * * *

  Tony sat in his seat and waited for Shayla’s reply, hoping it came before some damned flight attendant made him turn off his phone.

  Love you, too, Sir.

  He smiled, then shut his phone off and tucked it in his shirt pocket.

  Fuck Asher Insurance.

  This was his goddamned wedding anniversary. They could shove their timeline up their asses for a couple of days. Had they hired the crew he budgeted for in the first place, they’d be done by now.

  Too bad he’d already turned off his work phone or he’d check to see if the e-mail he’d forwarded—with copies of everything he’d done thus far and how the VP who’d axed the vendor crew in the first place was the reason they were behind—had made its rounds through the various other VPs yet. Darren had signed off on him sending it, was CC’d on it, and Tony had included the e-mail from Darren last week agreeing that Tony could take these couple of days off and that the delays were not Tony’s fault. Also commending him on how fast he’d started catching up with the temps helping out. Also also including the fact that Tony was taking Mike Kennedy back to Denver with him on Sunday for the next stage, Mike was being promoted and getting a pay raise, and the implied tone that no one better complain about it if they didn’t want to lose Tony. That if they wanted to complain about missing the project deadline, they could talk to Sam Eppenson, the VP who’d red-lined the budgeted crew.

  And, oh, FYI, hope that money being sent to a DC lobbyist was worth all of this.

  Tony would have loved to be a fly on the wall of that morning’s VP meeting, watching Eppenson explain himself.

  He’d have to settle for Darren’s report on it, since he was going and promised to go to bat for Tony.

  While he’d gained a lot of ground and decreased their deadline deficit, Tony missing his wedding anniversary was not going to put them totally back on track. Especially when they couldn’t shuffle the Bradenton schedule around to cover for Mike’s absence until Monday anyway, and he was going to need the man’s help with the troubleshooting portion of things and getting the colo moved over.

  At least this way he could take a couple nights off, spend them in bed with Shayla making her happy, soothe his own soul a little, and be ready to kick ass next week with Mike flying out with him late Sunday morning to help.

  He’d already warned Mike it’d be a grind and hard work, and his friend and coworker was more than ready for the challenge.

  He’d also asked Mike to give his wife and slave, Jenny—Shayla’s friend and fellow book club member—orders not to say anything to Shayla about this.

  He didn’t want Shayla putting together that he would be home this weekend.

  This was a surprise.

  He actually managed to doze off on the flight, miracle of miracles, and booked an Uber at TIA.

  Fuck it, he could expense it back to Asher, and he knew damn well Darren would approve it, based on the circumstances.

  Once he was sitting in the Uber, he texted Shayla.

  Text Me when you can, pet.

  He didn’t have a responding text from her by the time the driver pulled into their driveway, though.

  And her car wasn’t in the driveway, although it was nearly six by the time he arrived.

  With relief, he unlocked the front door, and Bagel and Cream ran to greet him. He knelt to take a few minutes with them, a wave of melancholy sweeping through him.

  “When’s Mommy coming home, huh?” It was Friday night, and she should be home by then, usually.

  He’d already changed into shorts and had opened a beer when Shayla finally texted him.

  What room are You in, Sir?

  He stared at his phone and opted to call her. “That’s a silly question, pet.” He smiled, trying not to give the surprise away as he walked over to the front windows and peeked out the blinds.

  “No, it’s not, Sir,” she coyly said.

  “Are you on your way home?”

  “I asked you first. And are you in your room right now?”

  He chuckled. “I’m staring at a gorgeous view.” He took a sip of his beer. “And hoping for an even better one soon, a full moon.” He fought the urge to giggle.

  “Did you get done early today?” She sounded…really excited.

  “You could say that. You didn’t answer my question, pet. Are you on your way home?”

  “Not exactly, Sir.”

  He turned from the window. “What do you mean, not exactly? You didn’t mention going anywhere after work today.” Damn.

  “You tell me what room you’re in first, Sir.” She giggled.

  His Dom senses were tingling in an uncomfortable way. “Pet. When are you coming home?”

  She didn’t answer at first. “Coming home?”

  “Coming home, yes, pet. When are you coming home.”

  “Wait.” The playfulness disappeared from her tone. “Where are you?”

  “I’m going to pull Dom rank and ask where are you?”

  She went guiltily quiet for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Umm…” She sighed. “I’m parked outside your hotel—”

  He groaned. “Oh, no! Pet, please tell me you’re kidding?”

  “No!” Her tone flipped, understandably angry. “Why? What’s wrong with me being outside your hotel?”

  “I…” He literally face-palmed himself, scrubbing at his lower face with his hand. “I’m home, pet. Our home. I flew home today to surprise you. I had an Uber drive me from TIA.”

  She didn’t respond at first. “Oh,” she quietly said.

  He didn’t cry much. The last time he’d openly wept was at Kaden’s funeral.

  He was damn close to repeating that performance right now.

  “I told my boss I would not miss spending my wedding anniversary with my wife. I’m flying back to Denver on Sunday, with Mike. He’s going to help me out there and hopefully we’ll get finished sooner.”

  Another long silence, except for the heartbreaking sound of sniffles. “Oh.”

  “Pet, I…” He walked over to the couch and collapsed on it, taking his glasses off and laying them on the coffee table. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” he gently said, realizing she was crying already and desperately trying not to let him hear her. “I never dreamed you’d fly out or I would have told you. I wanted to surprise you and be here for tomorrow.”

  “I…” He suspected she hit the mute button because the call didn’t drop but all sound disappeared for a moment from her end before she returned, and her voice sounded choked when she did. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered. “I’ll take whatever punishment you want to give me for lying about my meetings.”

  It clicked. “You had to turn your phone off for the airplane.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He flopped over on his side, wishing he had the power of teleportation right fucking now. “Baby, I’m so sorry. You’re actually at the hotel right now?”

  Another sniffle. “Out in the parking lot,” she whispered.

  Oh, she was desperately trying not to let him hear her cry, and his heart broke for her. “Let me get my laptop up and I’ll look up flights, baby. Maybe we can get you home tonight.” He sat up and walked over to his bag as he heard her mute the phone again.

  Dammit.

  He knew she was sitting there in a strange city, in a rental car, trying not to let him hear her cry.

  “Unmute the phone, pet,” he gently said. She did, and he caught the tail end of a sniffle. “Sweetheart, don’t try to hide that you’re crying. It’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”

  “But I…I…” Her heartbroken sobs broke his heart.

  “Shh, pet,” he whispered, hoping she’d be able to quiet down to listen to him. “Pet, my sweet, beautiful pet, I’m not upset, baby. I’m not.”

  He opened his laptop and set it on the coffee table, punching the power button and wishing it’d hurry up. “Worst-case, we’ll get you home tomorrow and still have tomorrow night together.” He grabbed his glasses and put them back on.

  “I…I got one of those…those travel company e-mails yesterday…there were $99 last-minute weekend trip one-way flight specials…before I thought it through I had it booked. I got like the last seats out and back at those rates. I fly home Sunday.”

  His heart sank but he tried to think positively. There were other airlines, and fuck it, if he had to max out a credit card to get his wife home, he would.

  Or, if he had to, he’d fly himself back out to Denver tomorrow morning and still have a night with her.

  “Who’s supposed to take care of the babies?”

  “Mitch next door. He already did it this afternoon, he texted me.”

  “Okay. I’ll text him.” He drummed the fingers of his other hand as he waited for the Wi-Fi to connect to his home network and the browser to open.

  More sounds of her crying.

  “Let me start looking, hold on, pet.”

  But…his heart sank as he started searching for a flight and only found seats—on any airline—to return to Tampa late Sunday. Even trying a couple of other hub cities to route her through wouldn’t work.

  And there was absolutely nothing flying out of Tampa for Denver until Sunday morning. Again, anything to Denver through hubs wouldn’t get him there until sometime Sunday, or so late Saturday night that it wasn’t even worth the thousands of dollars it’d cost.

  Fuck.

  She sniffled. “No seats, huh?”

  He pulled off his glasses again and set them on the coffee table. “No. I’m sorry, pet.”

  “There’s some sort of big trade convention starting this weekend and running all next week through next weekend. There were all sorts of banners and stuff at the airport welcoming them.”

  “Oh, fuck.” Yeah, there had been, but in his eagerness to get home, he hadn’t paid any attention to them. He had a thought. “Hey, stay until Tuesday or Wednesday.” He started to search flights home from Denver. “I’ll book you a new one-way, and—”

  “I can’t, Sir. I have meetings on Monday and Tuesday for my environmental articles. County meetings, I mean. I have to be there to cover them. They’re off-site and won’t be televised.”

  His heart sank. “Oh.”

  “I hope I can find a hotel room,” she quietly said.

  Now the warning a desk clerk had given him that morning, that he might want to keep his room instead of checking out, made perfect sense. “Go inside to the front desk,” he said. “I didn’t check out. I kept my room because they warned me if I cancelled the original reservation, I might be screwed. Now I know why. I was going to let Mike share a room with me, if he had to, because I’m in a double. Tell me who the desk clerk is. I’ve come to know a couple of them by name.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Sniffle. “Hold on.” He heard her get out and the chirrup of a strange car horn as she locked it. A moment later, she was talking to someone. “Her name’s Susan, Sir.”

  “Hand the phone over, pet, and get your ID out to show her.” There was the sound of the phone being passed.

  “Hello?”

  Tony pulled on his professional voice despite his heart wanting to break. “Hey, Susan. This is Tony Daniels, from Asher Insurance, staying in room 428. You’ve been seeing a lot of me over the past couple of months.”

  “Yes, Mr. Daniels, how can I help you?”

  “Well, funny story…”

  Five minutes later, Shayla had her phone back, a key to his room, and was walking out to her rental car to get her things.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” Now alone again, she sounded even more sniffly, teary.

  “Pet, I need you to get your things and go up to the room and call me back once you’re up there and settled. The Do Not Disturb card is out, but that’s my room. All right, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He ended the call and collapsed back onto the couch again.

  Fuuuuuck.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shay called him back fifteen minutes later. “Your pillow smells like you, Sir.” She sounded close to tears again.

  He knew she’d figured out which bed he’d been using, the one by the window. Not difficult, because it looked slept in. “Well, at least there’s that.” He sighed. “Sorry I didn’t leave you any dirty clothes to sniff. I brought everything dirty home thinking I’d wash it while I’m here. There’s some clean stuff in the dresser.” He walked back to their bedroom, where the bed was neatly made.

  Of course she made it when he wasn’t home. She was a beautiful, perfect, well-behaved pet. He pulled her pillow out from under the quilt over their bed and buried his face in it, sniffing.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I wanted to surprise you.” She sniffled. “Surprise.”

  He managed a laugh. “Well, you accomplished that, sweetheart, that’s for sure. I am…surprised.”

  Another sniffle. “Maybe I can overnight myself home via FedEx.”

  “I don’t think they’ll allow that,” he gently said. “If they did, I’d already be en route to Denver.”

  “What about in a really large dog carrier? I could stay curled up for a while.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, pet. I won’t allow that, even if they did. Which they won’t.”

  “It was worth a shot,” she muttered.

  “Why don’t you pull on one of my shirts and wear it for me, sweetheart. It’ll smell like you when I get there Sunday.”

  “Yes, Sir. Hold on.” He heard her set the phone down, pull open a drawer, and then she was back. “Okay, Sir. At least I remembered my cuffs and collar this time. And yes, they’re on.”

  “My perfect pet.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No, Sir.”

  He had an idea. “Are you hungry?”

  “I was,” she muttered.

  “Button up the shirt and put on pants, pet. You’re going to have a delivery of food in a little while.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl. Did you bring your laptop?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Get Skype up and running. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”