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“Can,” I say. “Is.”
Leaning forward, he kisses the locks of my hair, then my cheek, then my forehead—whispering each location before his lips land. His thumb swipes my bottom lip when he moves back, and for a breathless moment I think he’s about to be mean to me. We have been working on it, after all. Once, last week, he went out to get food and pretended he didn’t get me any when he got back.
I had the best time stealing his dinner while he smiled and let me. Even though he should have wrestled me to the ground over that handful of french fries…
But, anyway, as I said: we’re still working on it.
“You didn’t forget,” he says at long last. “You don’t forget things.”
“I don’t forget grudges. Or vendettas. My spite is immortal. But fluffy little anniversary dates? Why do I need to remember those when we’re together all day, every day?” I smile pretty and tilt my head away from his grip so my hair pulls. “What could we even do that would be special?”
“Break the buying you things ban.” He threads his fingers at the base of my head, twists, and tugs, lifting my face so he can plunge in for a kiss. “Take you out to dinner with our new chicken children.”
“Our?” I whisper against his lips. “We have to share them?”
“Duh.”
My stomach flutters. “That was an excellent duh. Almost demeaning. Which has mean in it. I’m so proud.”
He squishes our noses together, whispering seductively, “I’ve got it. I know what we can do that would be phenomenally special.”
“Finnegan Marsh, if you say go to therapy, we are getting a divorce, and you didn’t have me sign a prenup, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m taking the island.”
“First you steal my heart, now you steal my jokes. What’s next? My liver?”
“Hearts sell for the most on the black market, and you know you handed me yours on a platinum platter. Theft was not involved.”
He kneels, places his hands on my knees, and looks up into my eyes. “I did do that, didn’t I?”
“Well, okay. Hand is a stretch. You kind of chucked it at me, like a frisbee, and I didn’t know what to do with myself for several business days.”
His fingers tap, tap against my thighs. “It’s very cute that you know what sells well on the black market.”
I comb my nails through his pretty hair. “How else do you think I wooed you, if not with my random, disturbing knowledge of concerning topics?”
The elevator to the top floor dings, and I look up to find my beautiful friends stepping out with their husband and, ever since the wedding last year, bodyguard boyfriend. Mark escorts Penny up to the desk like a princess in paint-stained overalls, and she tosses her sunglasses up into her curls like the model she’s always been. “Did we arrive too soon?” She flicks her finger between my husband and I. “You two look like you’re still flirting.”
Finn peeks over the top of my desk, past a blue chicken butt. Rising, he says, “We’re just about to wrap it up. Too soon for what, though?”
“The triple date Marciboo planned.”
Brigid interjects. “We’re getting food then learning knife throwing.”
Finn tilts his head back toward me and my folded arms…while I twist my stupid chair back and forth, back and forth. “Forgot, huh?” he accuses.
“No comment on the knife throwing?”
“I shall take great care that I don’t grow into a complacent husband.”
Penny’s musical laughter fills the office floor, and she turns her smile on Finn. “Did you tell her yet?”
“Tell me what yet?” I say as I pull a chicken into my lap and squish it.
Finn says, “Nope. That’s a surprise for after.”
My eyes narrow. “I hate surprises. What have you done?”
He extends his hand. “It’s mean not to tell you, isn’t it?”
