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.”
“I like feeding you.”
“I know. I’m thinking about getting one of those walking desks so I can walk and work at the same time.”
Her eyes gleamed. “I prefer it when you do weights.”
“Then you’re in for a treat tomorrow.”
“I know. It’s arm day.”
Laughing, I told her, “Yeah, of course you know my schedule.”
“Like you don’t know when I do yoga.”
“Watching you turn into a pretzel is better than that pasta.”
“I’m glad I’m sexier than carbs.”
“No carb even compares to your butt.” I kissed my fingers. “Perfection.”
“Mostly because it’s made of the aforementioned carbs,” she teased.
I tutted under my breath and rumbled, “I told you not to do that.”
Her nose crinkled. “Do what?”
“Talk smack about yourself.”
“My butt’s—”
“Beautiful.” I smacked my lips again. “Biteable. Sexy enough that I wanna blow my wad whenever you bend over?”
Her smile made my heart sing. “I’ll bend over more when you’re around.”
“My dick would appreciate that; my heart might not stand it.”
With a chuckle, she shoved back her chair and got to her feet. “You’re nuts.”
“My nuts are your nuts,” I joked, hauling her against my chest. “How was your day?”
“You’re supposed to ask me that over dinner.”
“I prefer to ask when you’re in my arms, then I can feel your tension.”
“You’re nuts,” she repeated, but she was smirking as she said it.
I was when it came to her.
No piece of information she told me was too small or unimportant for me to know.
Some might say I was obsessed, but I wasn’t. I just knew I had the best woman in the fucking world in my arms, and I wasn’t about to lose her by not appreciating the joy she brought to my life.
Other shit... Well, that was out of my control.
This wasn't.
Being her husband and Jake's father was an honor, and I needed her to know that I felt that way.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” I touched my nose to hers and ran it along the short length. “How was your day?”
“Louise pissed me off,” she said on a sigh, referring to her assistant manager.
“Why?"
"She fucked up the cash receipts. It’s okay now, though. I managed to get it sorted out.”
I didn’t show her my tension because then it might have looked like I had a reason for saying, “She fucks up a lot.”
“She’s good with the customers," she defended, "and in a pinch, if someone’s ill or cuts out of their shift, she can take over.”
“There are other versatile employees out there,” I pointed out. “Billy’s the same. You haven’t promoted him.”
She hummed. “True.”
I hated Louise. She was a fucking snake in the grass, smiling at Aoife one minute, giving me the eye the next.
Like I’d be interested in her when I had a walking, talking, breathing goddess for a wife.
“True,” I taunted. “You’re too soft. We’ll have this conversation next month when she fucks up again.”
She crinkled her nose. “We won’t.”
“We will. Louise always messes up—”
“Always is a bit harsh,” she grumbled.
I curled my arm around her shoulders as I tugged her into moving forward. With each step, she shifted deeper into my hold, her arm sliding around my waist as we headed for Jake’s room.
I hated that I got home after he was in bed. Hated that my wife stayed up late because I was always fucking working. But before I could get angry at how I was doing things at the moment, the silence of the nursery, apart from his gentle breaths, settled me in a way that nothing else could.
Peace.
I wanted that for him.
I wanted him to lead a different life.
I didn’t want Jake to be one of those spoiled rich kids who didn’t know the value of a dollar, but I wanted him to have it easier. What was the point in busting my ass if he didn’t have that?
And I'd bust said ass and work myself into an early grave so he could have a better start than me.
His future was at the top of my agenda.
Aoife angled her head against mine as we stared down at him, the gentle glow from the nightlight the only illumination in the room.
As we stood there, I let the calm sink into me, watching after a couple minutes when she rearranged his blanket and moved his stuffie closer.
Taking that as a cue to leave, we headed out of the nursery and down the hall to the living room.
With the fire blazing, I dragged her with me to the sofa and didn’t settle until she was draped over me.
She laughed. “You’ll be more comfortable if I sit over there.”
“Says who?” I countered, leaning into the cushions as I straightened out my legs.
With her on my lap, I sighed as she positioned herself so that she was half on top of me, our feet tangling, her head on my chest.
The day might have been shitty, but my nights were always fucking wonderful. Whether I deserved it or not, this was my reward. They were.
Stroking my hand over her hair, I told her, “Think about the cruise.”
Her head rocked against my chest. “I don’t think I have sea legs.”
“You won’t know until we go on one,” I countered.
“Why would you want to sail down the Atlantic during winter?”
“You have a point,” I said on a sigh, recognizing that particular flaw in my plan.