I let out a soft chuckle. Her happiness is infectious even through texts. Although I plan to sue Peter and Vivienne for defamation, Grace deserved something with quicker gratification. So I swapped his license plates with the L84ANAL ones. His driving like a bat with its head cut off to get away from Huxley & Webber lent quite a bit of credence to the whole thing. And, of course, I had a couple of people follow him and get footage of that as well.
–Grace: It’s awesome that he didn’t notice at all! And a whole bunch of people posted about it, and it made the lobby video go even more viral.
–Me: Vivienne and Peter aren’t the only ones who can make something viral. :shrug-emoji:
–Grace: When are you getting home today?
–Me: About seven? Why?
–Grace: If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.
Anticipation courses through me. I plow through everything on my agenda, including a meeting in the afternoon on the new creatives for an up-and-coming cosmetics company and a call with an overanxious client. At six thirty I step out of the office and lock the door behind me.
“Heading home?” Madison says with a professional smile.
“Yes. Have a good evening.”
“You too. By the way, tell your wife I enjoyed the videos she made.”
I look at her for a moment. The guileless smile and clear eyes. There’s no way she purposely created the mess in London. She just made a mistake. I shouldn’t let what Lucie said color how I treat Madison. It wouldn’t be fair.
When I step inside the house, I’m hit with an incredible aroma of herbs and tomato sauce. Tilda must’ve made Italian.
I head into the kitchen to filch a taste, but find Grace in an apron stirring a simmering pot. She looks adorable with her hair twisted into a messy topknot, a pair of white earbuds in, nodding and swaying to a tune only she can hear. She dips a bit of sauce out with the wooden spoon and licks her finger, then smiles. “Oh yeah, baby. So good.”
I wrap my arm around her and kiss her. Taste a hint of tomato. “Mmm. You’re right. So good.”
She laughs. “Hey. I didn’t know you’d be here already!” She pulls the earbuds out and puts them in their case.
“Just a little early.” The clock on the wall says it’s ten till. “Traffic was light, for once.”
“Then let me get the pasta going.”
“Is there anything I can help with? I can’t cook, but I can bring you”—my eyes fall on pasta—“the spaghetti.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Not necessary. I got it. Why don’t you just go relax? Or maybe get a glass of wine if you want?”
“What are you making?”
“Pasta pescatore.” She throws the pasta into a pot of boiling water and hits the timer.
I head to the massive wine cooler and bring out a chilled bottle of Chateau d’Esclans Garrus, which should be perfect for a seafood pasta. The rosé is aromatic with a hint of glazed pears and berries and tastes like vintage champagne sans the bubbles. I uncork it, pour a glass for myself and serve a cold, fizzy white pear cider for Grace. It’s naturally sweet with a refreshing finish and nothing to upset her taste buds. She hasn’t shown any signs of morning sickness so far, but I don’t want to risk triggering it.
She clinks her glass against mine then hesitates for a second, like she isn’t sure what to toast to. A small laugh bubbles from her throat, her cheeks turning pink. “To a great husband,” shesays softly, a little breathless and a little shy. A hint of disbelief and pleasure shimmering in her glowing eyes says she can’t believe our marriage has become so much more pleasant than either of us expected.
To be honest, I often wonder how I ended up being so soft with her, given how angry I was. But even when I remind myself of the disastrous dinner at Grandma’s house, I can’t cling to the anger long enough. Grace has a magical ability to chip away at my hardened defenses, even though she’s really just a cream puff.
“To my beautiful wife of many talents.”
Her flush deepens, the sparkles in her eyes growing brighter. “Thanks.” She takes a sip of the cider, then her eyes go round. “Oh, wow.”
“Like it?” I say, enjoying her reaction. It’s fun to spoil my wife. She shows appreciation over the smallest things.
“Love it. Where did you get it?”
“Nieve. I ordered a couple of cases when you got pregnant.”
“Thank you. This is amazing. I could sip it all day long.”
