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My wife's clothes tumble from her grasp, fluttering to the floor.
"Hey!" she says. "What's with the fireman hold?"
"I'm making it up to you."
That explains everything, doesn't it? I stride out of her bedroom and down the hall to the door of the master suite. I enter the room and kick the door shut behind us.
"Put me down," Emery says, "before I pass out from too much blood in my brain. I'm getting tired of staring at your pajamas. Is that silk? Sheesh, for a guy who doesn't care about money you sure like the luxury comforts, don't you?"
"And you never stop havering." I bend my knees to let her body slide off my shoulders and set her down on her feet. "Are you angry I made another decision for you without asking?"
"Not this time." She glances around the room at the four-poster bed with its golden-brown sheets and the windows along the opposite wall. "You want to have sex in here tonight? I'm surprised you let me into your bedroom."
"Our bedroom." I hook a finger inside the belt on her dressing gown and tug her closer. "You'll be sleeping here."
"Just for tonight."
"Forever." No, not forever. Until she leaves me at the end of one year. But I won't think about that tonight.
Her hands float up to my chest. "Are you sure about this?"
"Aye." My fingers fumble with the bow that secures her belt. "I want to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you in the morning. Every day."
She grins. "Sharing a bed. Now that's progress."
Bowing my head, I focus on freeing her belt. "Progress toward what?"
"You fulfilling your potential." She bats my hands away and liberates the belt, letting her dressing gown fall open. "Before you know it, you'll be doing me in the daytime and on every surface in this house. Maybe outside too."
I make a pained face. "Not certain I'll ever be like you."
"Don't be like me. Be yourself—the real Rory, the one who desperately wants to come out and play."
Maybe I do want that, but it's not in my nature. I sweep my hands under her dressing gown and push the satin fabric off her shoulders. The garment tumbles to the floor, lying in a lump at her feet. "No sex tonight. Sleep only."
She feigns a pout.
Trying not to smile has gotten more difficult every day, and I feel my lips twitching as if they want me to stop fighting it. I can't, not yet. "It's been a trying day. Sleep is what we both need."
"Have you browsed your menu of fantasies yet?" She skates her palms over my chest and down to the waistband of my pajama bottoms. "Pick a costume, and I'll make you forget about everything in the world except for me."
"Yes, I'm sure you would." I grasp her hands. "But you were upset earlier, and it's clear you haven't slept well."
"Didn't realize it was that obvious."
I cup her cheek. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."
"I know you are, and I forgive you."
"Get in bed, mo leannan."
The fact that I've started calling her my sweetheart in Gaelic means nothing. It's a reflex, that's all.
Emery crawls under the covers and rests her head on one of the two pillows on the bed.
I strip off my pajama bottoms and join my naked wife beneath the silk sheets, lying on my back with one hand under my head. When I raise the other arm as an invitation, Emery cuddles up to me, her head nestled in the crook of my shoulder. I curl my arm around her.
This feels…right.
