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I finger the hem of her nightie. "It's bonnie, but not as bonnie as you."
"What are you wearing?" She picks up the edge of the covers to peek beneath them. "Oh. You're not wearing anything. Does that mean…"
"Too tired for sex, I'm afraid."
"Me too." She lets the covers fall back over me. "Why the nudie show if we're not getting it on?"
"I like feeling your naked body beside me." I trail a finger along her nightie's hem, grazing her skin. "You've picked this night to wear clothing to bed, for the first time since I've known you."
"Not true. You made me wear your shirt on the second night we shared a bed."
"So I did. You complained then, but now you voluntarily cover your luscious body."
"A problem easily resolved." She whips the nightie off over her head, tossing it toward the foot of the bed. "See?"
I flip the covers up so she can crawl underneath and nestle against me.
The issues between us haven't evaporated, I know that. But for tonight, all I want is to sleep with my wife in my arms and forget about everything else in the world. Soon, I'll have to deal with what she told me in the sitting room. Not tonight, though.
At five o'clock, I rouse from a good night's rest. But Emery looks so peaceful lying here tucked against me that I don't want to disturb her yet. So I go back to sleep.
When I wake up again, Emery is sitting beside me, smiling.
I arch one brow. "What?"
She points at the clock on the nightstand. "You slept in, without being drunk. It's after eight thirty."
"I woke at five, but I couldn't bear to leave my wife lying here all alone, soft and warm and naked. I went back to sleep."
Her smile broadens. "That's what I call progress."
Aye, maybe it is. But that thing she said last night keeps echoing through my mind.
I love you, Rory.
