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he felt.

Three
    Rounding the corner into his Alpharetta subdivision, a suburb of Atlanta, Greg slowed his pace. He passed by numerous brick houses with well-maintained lawns before pulling into his circular driveway and parking his bike in front of his three-story brick house. He paused for a moment, still getting used to the idea of living in such a massive house. The 6,000-square-foot home once belonged to his wife’s parents, who died in an automobile accident ten years ago. They willed the house to Shania and her younger sister, Cheyenne. However, to show her gratitude for all that Shania had done for her, Cheyenne chose to let Shania have the house.
    The son of an Air Force pilot, Greg grew up on military bases. Most of his childhood homes were a third the size of the estate standing before him. Then there was the three-bedroom house he owned in Stone Mountain, another Atlanta suburb. He chose to rent it out, as opposed to selling it after the wedding. That house wasn’t anywhere near as luxurious as Shania’s seven-bathroom, six-bedroom home. He found himself feeling as though he lived on an episode of the TV show MTV Cribs . And now he had the perfect bike to go along with the perfect home.
    He removed his helmet and got off the bike, glancing at the windows of the house to see if Shania was staring out at him. If she was, he could imagine the look of horror on her face. She’d probably think that her eyes were deceiving her. She’d be furious that he bought a bike without discussing it with her. Then she’d probably be scared for his safety. She tended to be a worrywart.
    He kicked down the stand and the metal sparked as it scraped the concrete. As he tugged on his pant leg, he admired his new toy and grinned. He felt the urge to kiss her, but to avoid looking like a fool in case he did have unseen onlookers, he settled on patting her instead. Hopefully, Shania would understand—after all, it was his birthday.
    He inhaled, and the smell of freshly cut grass caught his attention. Noticing the big brown bags sitting at the curb, he figured that the lawn guy must’ve come by that morning. The hedges were trimmed with designer mulch lining the bushes. Fully bloomed bright purple hyacinths, yellow daffodils, pink zinnias, and white and red roses decorated the flower bed by the door. His home felt so inviting to him that he looked forward to coming there every day.
    Sighing, he inserted his key in the door and entered. He placed his helmet beneath the foyer table and pushed it way back, then called out to Shania. The gentle click-clack of her sandals brought her down the hallway into the foyer. The way her face lit up when she saw him filled him with a pleasant warmth that reverberated throughout his body. She had a way of making him feel loved and appreciated. That alone endeared her to him. Maybe telling her about the motorcycle wouldn’t be as difficult as he thought. Maybe she’d be just excited as he—perhaps a little disappointed that he hadn’t touched bases with her first, but nevertheless enthused.
    He cleared his throat and grabbed her hand. “Babe, don’t be mad, okay?”
    Her smile flipped upside down and she sighed. “Greg, you know I hate when you say that. Oh, my God, what did you do? Don’t make me throw up. My stomach’s been bothering me all day.”
    â€œI can show you better than I can tell you.” He paused. “Close your eyes.” Perhaps if she could feel his excitement about the bike, maybe she could muster up some enthusiasm of her own.
    She gave him an incredulous look before closing her eyes and following his lead. He told her not to peek as he guided her out the door. When they reached the bike, he touched her lower back and told her to open her eyes.
    Shania opened her eyes and her jaw dropped as she clutched her stomach. For a second there, he thought she might actually throw up after all.
    â€œWhat’s