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"Oh please. I've got five sisters-in-law and two brothers-in-law, not to mention parents-in-law. Did you honestly think I couldn't find out when your birthday is?"
"I should never doubt your skills in uncovering my secrets."
"Yep, you should know better by now."
With a single swipe of my hand, I strip off the wrapping paper. The gift—a rectangular book with a smooth, hard cover—glistens in the subdued lighting within the sitting room.
"What is this?" I ask, turning the book over in my hand.
"Flip it open and you'll see."
I open the cover. A smirk tightens my lips as I regard my wife out of the corner of my eye. "Interesting title."
Emery wriggles closer and points at the words on the page as she recites them. "The evolution of Emery and Rory baby, a pictorial history."
"Yes, I can read." I pull her snug against my body. "Do I want to know what pictures you've got in here?"
"Be brave. Flip through it."
I trace my fingers over the lettering on the title page. "Did you write this by hand?"
"Yep. And I had every picture printed out, so I could stick it to the page with my own little fingers. I handwrote the captions too."
"Captions?" I turn to the first page of photos and smile as I read the headline. "Once upon a time, there was an uptight but very hot Scotsman who lived alone in his castle. Until, that is, he met a princess geek…"
I touch the first photo. It's the self-portrait she took in Pat O'Brien's on the night we met.
"That's me," she says, "right before you walked up and propositioned me. I left that part out of the caption."
"I see that." I move my finger down to the words beneath the photo. "Emery, thirty seconds before she met her solicitous solicitor."
My wife rests her cheek on my shoulder. "Why did you pick me that night? I've always wondered. You could've had your choice of hot babes, professional and unprofessional ones. Why pick the girl in faded jeans and a goofy T-shirt who hadn't showered or brushed her teeth?"
I hook a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so we're gazing into each other's eyes. "I saw you take this picture."
"I didn't see you."
"You wouldn't have. I was in the shadows near the doorway." I rub my thumb across her lower lip. "I saw you, and then I saw nothing else. The way you smiled when you posed for your self-portrait, the way your hair shimmered in the light, you were the most radiant woman I'd ever laid eyes on. I had to have you."
She licks at the pad of my thumb. "Good answer."
"The truth." I lower my hand. "I saw you rooting about in your bra as well. Hunting for cash, but I didn't know that. I thought you were a bit barmy, in the most adorable way, and I was enchanted."
"That answer's even better." She pokes me in the side with her finger. "Even if you did call me barmy."
"I love your unconventional nature." My gaze returns to the photo of her. "When I watched you fiddling with your bra, I had no idea you were hiding the crown jewels in there."
"A hundred bucks isn't a treasure trove."
I touch a finger to her breastbone, revealed by the low neckline of her blouse, and drag the tip down into the valley between her breasts. "I wasn't talking about your money."
Her breath hitches when I slip my finger under her breast. "And Aidan wonders why women like you. It's no mystery to me."
We browse the album together, laughing over the photo of me eating pancakes with "surgical precision," according to Emery, and we read aloud the captions that summarize our weeks together. Finally, we snuggle closer when we come to the wedding pictures.
I tap the photo of me at the altar, wearing a somewhat dazed look. "Who took this? Not you, unless you hid a camera in your bosom."
"Hadley took it. She said we needed to document how shocked you were by my effervescent beauty."
