January

(a AFTER CARE reunion)

Five years.

For five years we've been coming to this beautiful Hawaiian island to regroup and celebrate.

The good news about my remission from breast cancer.

The reminder of our first meeting.

The anniversary of our wedding.

As I sit on the edge of the pool, I smile at the three children playing in the water. Their father isn't far away, watching his brood who are now ten, eight, and four. Gage Everly is a lucky man. One of his greatest fortunes, though, is the woman sitting beside me.

"Granger! Don't splash your sister," Ivy calls out, scowling at her four-year-old son. The blonde happens to be my niece through marriage, but she's also become one of my best friends despite an age difference that numbers in decades, not years. She's like a second daughter to me and I know I've been a second mother to her. She lost hers to an awful disease.

Fortunately, for me, I'd been able to beat cancer. Five years free.

When I first met Ivy, I was sitting on this very pool's edge, self-consciously fiddling with a scarf on my head, covering the fuzz growing in but not fully restored. My hair never was the same after chemotherapy. I keep it short now, and the blonde streaks blend with the sudden onset of white. My hair is also curlier than it was before.

Before Tommy.

Glancing up from my position, where I dangle my feet in the pool and softly kick my legs back and forth in the cool water, I find him across the pool deck.

Tommy. Not Tom. Not Thomas. Not even his stage name of Lawson Colt. Just Tommy.

My Tommy.

A man now in his fifties but as fit as any young stud. His barrel chest is still solid. Said chest is covered in a blend of black and white curls. A jaw bristling with the same combination of ink and silver. A tempting trail leads down his abs to his waistband. Firm legs hold up his tall form. And dark aviator glasses cover deep brown eyes.

He's more casually dressed in a brightly-colored bathing suit than when I first met him poolside five years ago, but he's no less intense.

Because despite those reflective lenses covering his eyes, I know he's focused on me, and a shiver ripples up my spine.

The good kind of quiver that makes you warm in private places and sets your heart fluttering. When you know your man is watching you, wanting you. And Tommy Carrigan loves me.

I fight a smile, chew the corner of my lip, and tear my glance away to take in the kids splashing in the pool.

"Think he'll ever relax, Edie?" Ivy asks me about her uncle.

I gaze back at Tommy and softly chuckle. "Someday. Maybe."

Although we return to this resort every winter-holiday season—because a tradition had been set before I'd met any of them—Tommy is always on high alert around the pool.

When you manage a famous rock band, who want to spend family time with their wives and kids, being in such a public place like the resort pool puts Tommy on edge.

When I met him, one of the first things he said to me was to move away from his niece when I had no idea who she was or who she was married to.

I didn't know Gage Everly was someone I should know. Or that Collision was one of the hottest bands.

Now, the boys—despite being men in their late thirties—are family. And everyone has gathered for the next two weeks.

Gage and Ivy with Ava, Emmaline, and Granger.

Jared and Lexi.

West.

Petty.

"Hello, beautiful." Thinking of the devil, Petty collapses beside me and bumps my shoulder with his. The curly haired blond is still a giant child, and he knows it pisses off Tommy when he flirts with me.

Being that Tommy's on the other side of the pool, we're safe from scrutiny for the moment.

"Hey yourself, troublemaker," I tease. Petty is the last man standing in the band when it comes to love. "I'm surprised to see you so early."

"It's almost noon," he says, holding up his wrist as if he wears a watch. He doesn't. He's dressed in orange board shorts and nothing else, and looks freshly rolled-out-of-bed.

"That's early for you," Ivy jokes from the other side of me.

Petty squints at the chaos in the pool. "Well, we don't all have little munchkins to wake us at the crack of dawn."

Ivy playfully huffs, agreeing with him. Her kids are early risers. We've been at the pool for hours already.

"Uh-oh. Here comes the big bad wolf," Petty mutters, before slipping into the pool and swimming to the center, joining Gage with his children.

"He did that on purpose," Ivy says.

"Uh-huh," I agree.

Petty's trying to dodge Tommy who is now stalking around the pool toward us. The band manager can be a grumpy bear when it comes to his crew, especially when they overindulge and miss band practice. Petty can be the worst culprit.

"Darlin'," he addresses me as he nears.

"Tommy," I reply mimicking his Southern drawl and the edge in his tone.

"Come have a seat, Uncle Tommy," Ivy suggests, patting the space beside her but knowing he'll pass her and sit beside me.

He does. Extra close. Like his thigh is touching mine. We're shoulder to shoulder, and he hooks one of his feet underneath my leg dangling in the water.

"He's avoiding me, isn't he?" Tommy states, eyeing Collision's drummer spinning skinny Granger around in the water. "He hit on you?"

"He's always a flirt," I remind him.

"He's such a punk," Tommy mutters, but he doesn't mean it. Each of the boys has had their issues over the years. Tommy's been there for every one of their sticky situations, because he loves each of these men like they are his sons. Especially Petty. His restless nature reminds Tommy of himself.

Then again, each of the band members has a spark that mirrors their manager.

Gage and his silent, broody personae, but also a deep love for his wife and children.

Jared and his book smart, all business sense about the band.

West, who was newish to the band when I met them, and eager to just play music.

And Petty, who has had his share of hardships and heartbreak but disguises it all with a joke and flirtation.

"He's innocent," I state.

Tommy snorts in disagreement. I bump his shoulder with mine and he turns his head, giving me a soft smile.

"You're too sweet on him, darlin'."

"Only have eyes for you, honey." The endearment does the trick. Tommy visibly relaxes beside me. Shoulders lowering a little. Arms going back to support him. Foot curling tighter around my leg and rubbing downward. He leans sideways to kiss my shoulder before settling back into his easier position.

"You've got to let them have a little fun. This is a vacation." Tommy doesn't really need the reminder. He's just tense for the first few days we are here, until he finds his relaxation groove.

"Speaking of vacation . . ." Tommy nods toward something and I follow his gaze, noticing Masie, West and Caleb finally arriving at the pool.

My smile grows and I lift an arm to exaggerate a wave for their attention.

Caleb and Masie are also family. As in, my adult children.

Caleb is practically announcing his arrival. "Is that Ava Bear and Emmaline Jelly Belly in the pool?" He doesn't wait for answers but does a little skip before tucking his legs, and dropping into the refreshing water, exploding a giant splash at Gage and his kids.

My twenty-seven-year-old son loves to rile up the girls, especially Ava who is on the cusp of adolescence and sometimes agitated by the nickname Caleb has given her. As a minor league baseball player, he's finally been called up to the pros and he's thrilled to be starting with the Chicago Anchors next spring.

My daughter Masie graduated college last spring and has decided to go to medical school to be a midwife. She originally went to college to be an oncology nurse after all she'd lived through during my three years with the disease while she was still in high school. After a rotation with infants, though, she fell in love with the idea of helping bring babies into the world. A happier profession than oncology, in my opinion.

My smile falters a bit as I watch the awkwardness between West and Masie. They've been on-again, off-again. In private. In public. For four years. As a college student, it was difficult to date a rock star. Their five-year age difference had me concerned at first, especially since Masie was still in high school when they met. But she's twenty-three and has become the level-headed woman I knew she'd be. She has goals of her own, and while her heart might want to chase the rock star, her head pulls her toward a career for herself.

"How are they doing?" Tommy asks, as if he doesn't know. As if he doesn't see the tension nearly visible between Masie and West. Regardless of whatever strain is between them right now, West is still a gentleman. He carried Masie's bag, and he spreads out her towel on a lounge chair in the VIP section Tommy demands the band reserves for some semblance of privacy. Masie is polite as she thanks West, but their movements are too stilted, too reserved for a young couple.

Tommy slips his hand against mine and entwines our fingers, giving mine a squeeze. "They'll figure it out," he states when I don't answer him immediately. The comment is a reminder to let them figure it out. Tommy knows it's been a struggle for me. I don't want to see my girl's heart broken. I don't want West's to break either.

"Okay, swimming time," Tommy says, slipping into the pool while still holding my hand and distracting me from my children.

"Tommy," I warn as he tugs me forward, not releasing my fingers, until I'm almost falling into the water face first.

"Pool, darlin'," he murmurs, dipping his broad body lower and blowing bubbles against the surface.

Gingerly, I slide into the pool. "It's cold." I suck in a breath at the sudden shock creeping up my body, especially over my waistline.

Tommy reaches out and tugs me flush to him. "I'll warm you up."

"Thomas," I warn. His tone is recognizable. Sight unseen, I'm certain there's a gleam in his eyes. He wants to do things in this pool that need to be saved for the privacy of our room.

His hands coast over my hips and around to my backside, drawing me tighter against him. I wrap my arms around his neck and lower my body beneath the surface, lining us up in all the ways we shouldn't be, considering this is a crowded resort pool in broad daylight.

Tommy hums, squeezing my ass cheeks underneath the water. "I remember the first time I saw you here."

"Really?" My brows lift as I pull back and stare at my reflection in his sunglasses.

"Prettiest woman at the pool."

I laugh, deep and loud. He's so full of shit. "Really?" Sarcasm drips from the question.

Tommy tugs me harder, forcing my legs to spread wider and wrap around his hips. "Knew you were going to wreck me in the best of ways."

"You knew no such thing." I chuckle.

"Saw you staring at me. Drinking me in."

"So, it was all about you. Your ego," I tease. Tommy might be the most level-headed man I know. He's had his time in the limelight, and he's happy to be on the sidelines now, managing Collision and helping this newer, younger band be all they can be. He's the first to say fame is fleeting. Enjoy it while you can. Let it go when you can't enjoy it anymore.

Tommy chuckles. "More like all about my dick, darlin'." His bluntness does not surprise me. "But my heart was already singing a tune as well."

"Really?" I ask again. "And what song was it singing?"

I'm awful at music trivia and Tommy's going to tell me some obscure song I've never heard of by some band he thinks I should know but won't. It's our own inside joke. Then again, he's a closet Bee-Gees fan, and it's one of my favorite things about him. When we watched a documentary about the Gibb brothers, I understood Tommy's attraction to them even more. They were musical geniuses.

"Reunited." Tommy hums a few bars of the 1970s song.

"Wasn't that a breakup song?"

Tommy continues to hum, his gravelly sound growing stronger and louder. "Was. But I mean the title is perfect for us. You're the other half of my heart. Now I'm whole."

"Tommy," I whisper. He can be too charming when he wants to be. Lifting his glasses so I can see his dark eyes, I'm not surprised the brown is nearly eclipsed with black. "You're the other half of me, too, honey."

I should have expected it, but I didn't. The rush of his mouth. The firm hand on the back of my head. The thrust of his tongue. When he's sweet toward me and I'm sweet right back, it's like a switch flips. He's on fire for me.

"We need out of this pool," he mutters against my lips. "Because you in this suit . . . it needs to come off."

He tugs at the bottom of my tankini beneath the water, letting it snap back against my skin before abruptly standing with me still wrapped around him.

I lower my legs to stand on my own and Tommy slips a hand between us to adjust himself. He's about to give everyone a show, because beneath that form fitting suit of his is a steel rod of desire that can't be disguised. Tommy spins me so my back is to his front, and he walks us to the stairs, using me as his shield.

"Gonna get a room, old man?" Petty teases from where he sits on a lounger in the VIP section.

"Be respectful," Tommy snaps at his band member.

Petty's gaze snaps to me, and he mouths, Sorry. I shake my head, dismissing him. Sometimes the over-fifty band manager is as bad as the younger set in the horny department.

Tommy wraps a towel around his waist and leans forward to snag my beach bag while I wrap a skirt around my lower half.

"Where you going, Uncle Tommy?" Emmaline calls from the pool, all innocent and sweet. Her blond curls are slicked back from the water.

"Naptime, baby girl," he calls back, taking my hand in his.

"You're too old for naps." She giggles with love for her great-uncle.

"Never too old for afternoon delight," he mumbles, squeezing my hand.

"What's afternoon delight?" Ava asks next, louder than her little sister. The wise brunette sees and hears everything lately.

"Jesus," Gage mutters from his spot in the pool. "Really, old man?" He arches a brow at his uncle by marriage, band manager, and truest friend. As if Gage is any less affectionate toward his wife in front of his children. Sometimes when he kisses her, it's almost obscene.

"Watch who you're calling old. When you're my age, you'll still be wishing you could nap like me."

The sexual euphemisms are flying like weakly aimed arrows and it's time to end this charade of napping.

"Tommy," I whisper, and his attention comes back to me. "Take me to bed."

"Working on it, darlin'." My arm is almost pulled from the socket as he leads me through the pool area and into the lobby of the hotel.

+ + +

I expect us to head directly to our suite. The penthouse is still rented by the Everly's, especially as their family has grown. Tommy got us a luxury suite, and for the first time, purchased a separate room for Masie. Caleb doesn't mind bunking with West and Petty.

Instead of our room, though, Tommy detours us down a hallway that leads toward the bar. I'm a little disappointed as I wasn't anticipating a drink first. Then he veers us again and we're walking down a hallway that brings back all the memories.

Me leaving the bar early.

Him chasing me.

Then Tommy dragging me into an empty conference room like he's doing right now.

"Tommy." I giggle like a schoolgirl. "It's the middle of the day."

"Perfect time for afternoon delight." He spins me once we are inside the vacant space and locks the door behind me.

He drops my pool bag and I'm instantly pressed up against the door. His mouth captures mine, making me almost dizzy with his urgency. Five years later, and he still kisses me like he might lose me. Like I might disappear, which I'd never do to him.

His large hand skims down the front of my still wet bathing suit and slips underneath my beach skirt.

"Drop the bottoms, darlin'."

I should scold him. Remind him we're in a public space. Someone could walk in at any moment. But this is our routine. Once a year, upon our return, we reunite with this room where he first kissed me and touched me after years of sexual drought. And we'd only met about six hours earlier.

I wasn't like that. I didn't attract men like a magnet or let them touch me within a blink of meeting them.

But Tommy had been different.

And I do as he asks, knowing I'm not getting out of this room without him touching me.

It takes some effort to roll down my tankini bottoms, also still wet and clinging to my skin. Once I do, I step out of them and Tommy swipes them up like dainty panties, not water-drenched spandex. He drops the wet mess into my bag before sliding his hand between my thighs again. His fingers disappear beneath the skirt and easily find what he seeks.

"You're soaked."

I don't have a chance to respond as his mouth covers mine at the same time two fingers glide into me. My breath hitches with the suddenness, but I quickly settle into the rhythm he sets, working me over with the strength of his fingers and the intensity of his touch.

I moan against his mouth, warning him with the sound how close I am. His kisses deepen. His tongue swirls. His fingers thrust until I crash like the ocean waves outside.

"That's it, darlin'," he hums, knowing what he's done to my body. "God, I love you."

"I love you." The declaration is a breathless whisper as I'm still spiraling from his touch.

"Return the favor." It's another private joke and more of a question than a command, like that first time. He's asking permission, acknowledging this room isn't the dark, late-night escape from a bar but filtered with late afternoon sunlight streaming through the limited windows covered by lowered blinds.

Spinning, I give him my back, giving him my answer.

I hear the rip of the Velcro securing his swim shorts and feel the breeze of air conditioning as my bare backside is exposed when Tommy lifts my skirt.

"Gonna be quick," he warns. Tommy is a ferocious lover for his age. Gentle and sweet sometimes. Hot and rushed at others.

This is what I do to him. And what he does to me.

I lower my forehead to the closed door and brace for the swiftness of his thrust. Once planted inside me, he stills, and I melt over him. He pauses a second, nibbling along my neck before biting me in that spot that will turn me into a puddle.

"Darlin'," he growls before pulling back and surging forward again, setting a new pace that expresses his urgent desire. He reaches around me, plucking at my clit, but this round is all for him and I brush his hand away. He typically doesn't like that—me denying him—but I'll let him make it up to me once we are in our room. For now, I want him to break.

My breath hitches. My back arches. I groan deep and throaty, carving his name into two syllables. "Tom-my."

He releases a strained grunt to accompany his finish as he pours into me. His fingertips dig into my hips. His body slowing but still thrusting, dipping, filling me.

"Edie," he groans, lowering his forehead to my shoulder as we both pant from the exertion. We aren't as young as we used to be, but our desire for one another remains on the rise.

"You undo me. Every damn time," he murmurs against my cool skin. Next, he moves to my ear, his bristly cheek brushing mine. His voice drops, serious but tender. "I'm so grateful you married me."

"I'm thankful, too," I whisper, caught off guard by a sudden swell of emotion.

"No regrets," he says, leaning so he can better see my face.

I twist to view him over my shoulder. "Never."

He smiles slowly, crooking up one side of his mouth before the other joins. Then, he's kissing me, slow and sweet, assuring me with his kiss he's never regretted a day together either.

From the moment I saw this man, I had no idea he'd undo me in all the ways he has. He made me feel desired and loved, despite all my body and heart had been through in the past. He'd been good to me. And he'd wanted me in his life, constantly by his side.

It's why he asked me to be his wife. And why I accepted.

And during this holiday vacation we'll be celebrating how we'd married on New Year's Day, wanting to start another year with love in our hearts and holding each other's hand.

In the exact place where it all started.

Beautiful Hawaii.