Liam and I needed this Maui getaway more than air. Seven years of marriage, three kids, and six months hosting his mother after a kitchen fire had left us running on fumes. When we finally escaped for our anniversary, the first three days were magic—until Judith materialized on our beach like a bad tan line.
“I thought you might miss me!” she trilled, plopping onto a lounge chair. She’d left our children with a friend and flown 3,000 miles to invade our romantic retreat. Worse? Liam just… let her.
She commandeered every moment—stealing our picnic basket, faking dizziness to cancel our sunset cruise, even adding herself to our intimate dinners. When she begged Liam to sleep in her room because of “nightmares,” I snapped.
The next morning, Judith found herself signed up for Maui’s most brutal adventure tour: 10-mile volcanic hikes, 3-hour cooking classes in unairconditioned huts, and jungle treks under the punishing sun. By day four, the woman who’d bragged about her “perfect stamina” was begging to go home.
As her taxi pulled away, our real vacation began. Sometimes protecting your marriage means getting creative—and occasionally, playing dirty.
