"Call me when you get to your hotel room. If I don't answer, I'm knocked out." I leaned up on the tips of my toes to press a kiss to my husband's lips. The hand I'd pressed to his chest caught the direct sunlight, and my wedding band glittered in the light. Even in platform heels this man was still taller than me.
"Will do." Jason's hands settled on my waist and he sighed. "Are you sure you can't join?"
"We have the world to run, babe. I'll be fine."
"I'm worried about leaving you with the press. Keep the babysitter on call at all times. Better yet, move her in."
"It will be fine."
"But the stress? Amaria, I'm worried about—"
"My mental health." I cut in sharply, pulling away from him. It was a valid concern, as much as I hated to admit it. "I'm not going to go all psychotic on my own children. That's what therapy is for."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean it like?"