Page 47 of Bound To Be Mine

Our appetizers were delivered. The stuffed mushrooms were calling my name.

“How about we table the discussion about those dirty details until after we’ve eaten?” she said. “I think I’m going to need a full stomach for that.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a small smile. “It might be best on an empty stomach.”

“Briggs Blackwell, did you just crack a joke?”

“We should probably exchange information,” I said, steering the conversation back to practical matters. “Phone numbers, addresses, emergency contacts. Basic stuff.”

“And we should probably learn things about each other. Favorite foods, pet peeves, that kind of thing. People will expect us to know those details.”

“I can make a questionnaire,” I offered.

She laughed. “Of course you can. But how about we just talk? Like we’re doing now. Get to know each other organically. I’m sure you’ve been on a date before, right?”

I scowled. “I have, but we’re married. We skipped the dating. Do you know how many hours it would take to get to know someone properly?”

“I’m not asking you to tell me about your first childhood pet or what you wore to your first day at kindergarten. I’m talking the basics.”

“A questionnaire would be more efficient,” I said, knowing it would annoy her.

“Briggs, if we’re going to pull this off, we need to be comfortable around each other. We need to be able to have normal conversations without everything being a business transaction.”

I knew she was right, but the idea made me uncomfortable. I didn’t do “organic.” I didn’t do casual getting-to-know-you conversations. I had a system for everything, a process. It kept things orderly, predictable.

Safe.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Favorite color. Simple question. No wrong answer. Except black. Or gray.”

“So, there is a wrong answer.”

She laughed. “Fine, if you tell me black or gray, I’ll accept it.”

“Blue. I think.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

“I’ve never really thought about it.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Okay. We’ll work on that one.”

“What’s yours?”

“Pink. All shades of pink, but especially that soft blush color. Makes me feel pretty.”

“You are pretty,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her cheeks flushed, and I felt my own face heat. Where the hell had that come from?

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “That was a very husband thing to say.”

Our entrees arrived, giving us something to focus on besides the weird tension that had suddenly filled the space between us.

“How did you get into wedding planning?” I asked.