Eighteen
TRICK
Laurel catches her breath a little more slowly after an orgasm now.
I wait, knowing there’s a conversation we need to have. I’m dreading it. Things have been so good between us. A lot of the time, she greets me with a kiss when I get home, and it never fails to make me happy. If I’m getting home late because of work, I always bring her flowers. She says I don’t need to do that, but I know she appreciates the gesture.
Laurel rearranges her pillows, then settles in and closes her eyes.
“Hey, before we go to sleep, there’s something we need to talk about.”
“Oh?” She rolls onto her side to face me. “Okay.” Her fingertips brush my temple, and it makes it even harder to be stern.
“You and Kath rearranged a couple pieces of furniture in the living room.”
“I knew you noticed when you walked by,” she says. “You didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t want to get into it with her here.”
“Or right before we went to bed either, I guess,” she says, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Yeah, busted. No mood killer topics before I make love to her. I have priorities, and at night and first thing in the morning, sex gets the top spot on the to-do list.
“We agreed you wouldn’t lift heavy things. She didn’t move that couch alone. It’s heavy.”
Her brows crinkle. “I didn’t lift it. Kathleen lifted each corner so I could put a pad underneath and then we slid it.”
“Did she push it alone?”
“No, but it wasn’t very hard to push. I didn’t need to strain.” I must be frowning because she adds, “I swear. If it had been too much, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“There are marks on the floor. It’s heavy enough that you left streaks.”
She sighs. “I’ll take care of it. They’re not scratches.”
“Rosaria will take care of it, not you. That’s what I pay her for. And the scuffs aren’t the point, Laurelyn. You say you don’t need me to police your behavior and don’t want me punishing you for things. I agreed to that on the condition that you don’t blatantly disrespect me by lying or breaking promises. We made that decision together about your not lifting heavy stuff anymore.”
Her cheeks color. “I know, but I didn’t lift it.”
“C’mon, babe. Be honest. You knew I wouldn’t like you moving furniture.”
“When I was growing up, my dad just had me and Monet. I helped my dad move furniture a bunch of times. I did all kinds of things. I’m not weak.”
“I know that, but you also weren’t pregnant and late in your second trimester back then. There are games I’d really like toplay with you, but I don’t mess around because I think it’s risky at this stage. What if you moved furniture and started bleeding? Even if it wasn’t related, we’d both have to wonder if it was. If something happens to the baby now, think of how upset we’d be. We’re attached to him.”
She blows out a breath and nods, her eyes brighter than usual. “I promise it wasn’t that heavy, Scott.”
“All right, but I want your promise you won’t do that again. If you want to see how something looks somewhere else, let me move it for you. If it’s something big, ‘Vil will walk over, and we’ll do it. There’s no need for furniture to be dragged over the new wood floors. I built you this beautiful house, let’s not tear it up in the first few months.”
“You’re so particular.” Her lips quirk into a smirk. “Also, why would you rather drag Sasha into it, rather than let Kathleen help if she’s already here?”
“You know why.” I let myself smirk, too. “I don’t get why you fight my sexism when it benefits you.”
She laughs and shakes her head.
“The only heavy thing my mom ever carried was a baby. She doesn’t even know how to start the lawnmower. When I lived in Coins and they were in Boston, I used to get a ride home every weekend in summer to cut the grass until I could afford to pay someone to do it. She never once suggested I show her how use the mower.”
Laurel sighs. “That’s not right.”
