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Then she grabs one of the chairs and drags it across the rug toward my desk.
I peer at her over the tops of my reading glasses. "What are you doing?"
She drops into the chair and folds her hands on her lap as she props her sock-clad feet on the desk, crossing her ankles. "Oh yes, my darling husband, I'm so pleased to see you too."
Her breezy tone and bright smile are pure sarcasm. I know this, but I can't stop staring at her socks. Why is she using my desk as a footrest?
I nudge her sole with one finger. "Your feet are on my desk."
"Yep."
"What do you want, Emery?" I aim a pointed glance at my papers and then spout pure bollocks. "I have work to catch up."
"I have questions."
My wife will not give up. I know this. Slumping back into my chair, I exhale a defeated sigh. "Go on, then."
"First of all, have you seen my phone? I can't find it. Had to do a video chat with my family on my laptop."
Mhac na galla.I'd hoped she wouldn't notice that, and I could return her mobile to her room before she needed the device. Eyes downcast, I open a desk drawer and produce her mobile. I set it on the desk, pushing it toward her feet. "I went into your room while you were asleep and borrowed your mobile. Only so I could switch it to local service."
"You sneaked into my bedroom while I was sleeping to steal my phone?"
"To switch it to local service," I say again, enunciating each syllable with knife-like precision. "It was a favor."
"One I didn't ask for. Is that how your mom got my mom's number? You snooped on my phone?"
I rearrange the papers on my desk, not having a clue why I'm doing that. "Yes. My mother asked me for the number, so she could surprise you."
"Did she ask you to steal my phone?"
"No, I—" Why won't she drop the subject? I shove a hand inside the back of my shirt collar because I swear ants are nesting there. "I didn't know another way to get the information."
"Rory, honestly." She pitches her head back and makes a frustrated noise. But she sounds calm when looks at me again. "Let's forget that for the moment. I have more important questions."
More questions? Bod an Donais. I brace my elbows on the desktop and rest my cheek in one hand.
"Erica asked if I'd applied for my spouse visa yet," she asks while wiggling the toes of one foot in the air. "Told her I had no idea what that is. She and Calli explained it's an immigration thing, and I'd better take care of the formalities ASAP. Am I going to be deported for not doing that right away?"
"No." Her toes are distracting me, the way they move in such a haphazard fashion. I pluck up a pen and twirl it around my fingers, rapping it on the desktop with every third revolution. "I'm handling it. Started the process before we left America."
"You—" She gapes at me. "Let me get this straight. Without telling me, without consulting me at all, you took it upon yourself to secretly apply for a visa for me. Meanwhile, you skulked into my room in the dead of night—"
"Not the dead of night. It was daylight, but you were asleep." I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Every conversation with my wife makes me feel like I've got an itchy rash all over my body. "I planned to tell you about the mobile service change, but I didn't have the chance yet. Then you flounced in here asking your bloody questions."
"Flounced in?" She laughs and shakes her head. "You are so weird. Lucky for you, I like your weirdness. It's kind of hot."
Without my permission, one side of my mouth quirks. "Am I meant to thank you for the compliment?"
"No, you're meant to apologize for your stealth mission to get me a visa."
I toss the pen across my desk, and it rolls into the computer keyboard. "I was trying to spare you the stress."
"Should've told me what you were doing."
"You were exhausted from jet lag and worried about meeting my family." I flatten my hand on the desktop, but her feet snare my attention again. I'd loved massaging her soles on the first night in New Orleans, loved the way she responded to my touch. "As I said, I was trying to spare you the added stress of dealing with immigration issues. I should've consulted you, I'm sorry."
She says nothing for a moment, just seeming to consider me. Then she announces, "Okay, I forgive you. What you did was thoughtful and efficient. Thank you."
