“You’re so anal,”

I said to Mickey as he stood there, gazing at the schedule on his phone. I couldn’t help myself. I knew it wasn’t the nicest thing to say to my boyfriend, but I was watching him micromanage our entire weekend getaway, charting out exactly the hour we were going for a walk in the quaint country town, when we were having brunch, what time the wine tour began.

He looked up from the device in his hand, and his gray eyes met mine. “You think so?” he asked.

“We’re on vacation,” I reminded him, coming forward to run one hand along his cleanly shaven jaw.

He’d been up early as he always was. He’d showered, shaved, dressed in a pressed blue T-shirt and khakis. “Usually, people relax a little when they’re... Read More