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Chapter Twenty-One
Despite the way Emery tormented me yesterday with that body, I enjoyed a better night's sleep. Maybe the finger of whisky I drank before bed helped. I've never been a solitary drinker, and I do not get intoxicated—not until I met Emery. Lately, I find myself sneaking a wee dram in my office or the sitting room, whenever my wife isn't around. It relaxes me.
If I shagged my wife, that would relax me even more. But I need to win our bet, for reasons I don't understand. I probably want to win because it will prove to Emery that I can live without her body. It's not as if I can't sleep or breathe or do anything unless I've fucked her. She has no such power over me.
Once, when I'm coming back from the kitchen after having a piece, as I'm walking down the first-floor hallway toward my office, movement outside the windows catches my attention. I approach the glass, leaning forward slightly to see what's out there. It's my wife. She's on the front lawn, spinning round and round with her arms outstretched. After a moment, she halts and drops her arms to her sides, then tips her head back as if she's communing with the sky.
What on earth? Spinning? Why would she do that?
Emery trots back into the house.
And I give up trying to understand her.
My wife refrains from harassing me all morning. I know she's going into the village for her doctor's appointment and to have lunch with Erica and Calli. The fact that I walk over to the windows in my office at precisely the time when I know Emery will be leaving is a coincidence. The occasional break from staring at legal documents keeps my mind fresh. I'd done that before I ever met her. The fact that I stand at the window until she has climbed into the Mercedes and the car is rolling down the drive, then I return to my desk, means nothing.
Aidan rings me after lunch.
"What do you want?" I say instead of hello.
"The ogre is alive and well," my cheeky brother says. "So, sweetie-pie, have ye heard what our wives are calling themselves?"
I stifle a groan because my wife must have told his wife about that ridiculous pet name. "I have no idea what you're on about."
"Calli told me all about it when she got home from her lunch with the other lasses." Aidan pauses, most likely because he's about to tell me something I won't like. "They've started a group. Emery named it the American Wives Club. Clever, eh?"
"A group? To do what?"
He chuckles. "They're women. What do you think they want to do? Meddle in everyone's lives, of course. Erica and Calli started the ball rolling months ago with you. Now your wife is taking the lead. Best get used to it, sweetie-pie."
Oh, bloody sodding hell. Emery honestly is trying to drive me barking mad.
"I have work," I tell Aidan, then I hang up without saying goodbye.
The American Wives Club? Those crackbrained women.
Seventeen minutes later—which I know because my computer has a clock in the corner of its screen, not because I'm counting the minutes—I start to wonder what has become of my wife. If Calli arrived home a little while ago, then Emery should arrive any second. I fight the impulse for as long as I can, which is a dismayingly short time. Finally, I can't stand the suspense anymore. I march to the office door, intent on…going into the hall so I can stare out different windows to watch for my wife to come back.
That realization stops me for a moment. Then I shake off the ridiculous notion and swing the door open, stepping out into the hall.
I stop dead when I see Emery walking this way.
She trots up to me. "Hi, honey. I'm home."
Pursing my lips, I glance around and scratch my arm, which I'm fair certain makes me look like a numpty who's been desperately hunting for his wife.
"Everything okay?" she asks, peeking around my shoulder. "Were you getting your rocks off in there?"
"What?" I gape at her like a ruddy cartoon character, jerking my head back. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
"Because you look guilty."
Not guilt. Not desperation either. Donnae know what this is, but I don't like it. Shuffling my feet without moving an inch, I glance toward the hall windows. "I, ah, wanted to…watch out the windows for you."
What a dead stupid confession.
"Waiting for me to come home?" Her lips curl into a soft smile. "Aw, that's so—"
"Do not say sweet or cute."
