Tom didn’t quite understand the hurt in her voice, but he knew she didn’t deserve it.
“Babe, nobody loves you for your taste in wallpaper.”
Rosie frowned like he’d missed the point. “I know this intellectually,” she said.
“No, people love you because of your amazing rack,” he said.
She hadn’t been expecting that, and she snort-laughed through her nose, bending over to hide her face from the store staff.
“I do have great tits, don’t I,” she said in a slightly less aggrieved tone.
“The best,” Tom said loyally.
The shop clerk finished his call and came over to quiz Rosie about the project. Tom zoned out a little as the clerk weighed in on the many options available to the modern wallpaper enthusiast. Something struck him about the way the guy was looking at him though, and it took Tom a moment to put his finger on it.
The clerk was deferring to him. This wasn’t the reaction Tom usually got from store staff, especially in nice places, but, then again, he was wearing Boyd’s thousand-dollar jacket, hewas on Martha’s Vineyard, and he was accompanied by polished, shiny Rosie.
Maybe he could pull off this performance.
“I think this paper will be too cutesy for a big room,” the clerk told Rosie, cutting his gaze to Tom.
“We’ll see,” Rosie said, eyes narrowing.
She flipped to the next page of the sample book, which was printed with abstract white birds, like gulls or albatrosses, on a bright yellow field.
“I like this,” she said to Tom, looking up through her eyelashes at him. “We could replace the shiplap in the suite, maybe paint the floor and trim white? And do white linens on the bed?”
“That would be pretty,” Tom said, not just because he could tell she liked it, but because he had not lasted as long as he had in theater without learning how to execute the creative visions of better-informed people than himself.
The clerk made a small noise of disagreement in the back of his throat. He put his hand on the sample book as though ready to take it out of Rosie’s hand.
“You don’t want that,” he told her. “Bird prints are very dated.”
“Do you have it in stock though?” Rosie asked.
“No, maybe you’re too young to remember, butput a bird on itwas a thing a few years ago. Nobody wants bird prints anymore. It’s not on trend. We’re doing a lot of geometric prints right now.”
“I like birds,” Rosie said with a stubborn tilt to her chin. Shepulled the book away, but the clerk didn’t let go. “What, will you not sell it to us?”
Tom had done enough improv exercises to recognize ayes, andmoment when he saw one. “Yeah, if she wants birds, show us some more birds,” Tom said, subtly aligning his body with Rosie’s.
“I like this one,” Rosie said.
The clerk put his hand on Rosie’s shoulder, which made her back go absolutely rigid. Rosie was only five feet tall, which many people took as license to treat her like a child, and patting her around her head or shoulders was a good way to lose a hand.
“You can buy something fun without going twee or saccharine,” the clerk confided. “Wallpaper is too important a decision in a decorating scheme to pick on impulse.”
Rosie jerked the book to her chest and glared.
“Maybe Ilovetwee and saccharine. Maybe that’s my decorating scheme. Maybe I want to fill the entire suite with my collection of Precious Moments dolls.”
The clerk looked over Rosie’s head to meet Tom’s eyes in a silent plea for help.Make your woman be reasonable, his face said.
Tom audibly scoffed at the idea that he’d weigh in on the clerk’s side. Were there men who publicly disputed their wives’ takes…on wallpaper? If so, how was it that these men were still married and Tom was divorced? He was a dumb motherfucker, but he wasn’tthatdumb.
“I think Max would be happy if we doubled down on birds,” he suggested. “Owl clocks over reception.”
“Birdcage planters by the front door,” Rosie replied.
