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Nine
Finn
“What’s this?”
I shrugged as I spooned up the pappardelle that she’d called a simple dinner and which was better than a restaurant quality dish. “For you.”
“You want to go on a cruise?” she questioned.
My lips twitched at her disbelief. “Not particularly. But we should take a break before the baby comes, and we wouldn’t have to worry about flights.”
Or snipers.
I didn’t tell her that.
Or, Christ, they could be a part of the crew.
As I determined that I’d take a dozen guards with us if she agreed to go, she mused, “What if I get seasick?”
I blinked. “Do you suffer with that?”
“I’ve never been on a boat,” she said with a laugh, and even though my idea might suck, the sparkle in her eyes made it worthwhile.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
“How are you going to cope being away from the office?” She tilted her head to the side. “Let me guess. You wouldn’t be? You’d bring the work with you?”
“Well, the negotiations with Hanover are still ongoing,” I said uneasily.
Aoife shook her head. “You’re nuts. Two hundred thousand on a cruise for you to stay inside the stateroom the entire trip?”
“I’d come out for food,” I argued.
“Oh, great,” she mocked, but I could tell she wasn’t angry, more amused with me.
I swore, I wasn’t sure what I’d done to earn such an understanding wife, but I was fucking lucky.
“It’s not a good time, sweetheart,” she was saying now. “I’m working on my brownies and cake pops. I think they’d make a great loss leader. The cake pops, I mean, but I need to perfect them. The ratio of frosting to cake is too much.” Her gaze turned distant, and I knew she was in the land of lbs. and oz.
I grinned down at my plate. “Bakeaholic, that’s you.”
“Yep,” she mumbled, blinking as she came back to me. “Can’t bake on board a ship.”
“You can if I get them to let you use their kitchens.”
She snorted. “You’d do that too, wouldn’t you?”
I arched a brow at her as I finished off my dinner.
“Of course you would,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
With my dish in my hand, I got to my feet. Snagging hers off the table after she took her last bite, I headed over to the dishwasher.
With them tucked away, I returned to her side and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for dinner, baby.”
She smiled up at me. “You’re welcome. Did you like it?”
“It was delicious.” I pressed my hand to the back of her neck. “You spoil me.”
