At last, he lets out a long breath. “I never knew any of this.”
I wait for it.
“Thank you,” he says after a while. “This is…useful information.” At my look, he adds, “And I would never have heard any of it without you.”
“Therewe go,” I say. “You’re starting to get it. Now, why don’t you clear the table and I’ll serve up dessert?”
He does as he’s asked, taking the dishes to the sink while I rummage in the fridge. I turn back to him with a can of whipped cream and watch him try to keep his eyes above waist level.
“You’re going to sleep in our bed from now on,” I say, like I’m a hypnotist giving him orders.
“Am I?” But he smiles as he says it.
“Yes, you are. And you’re going to come home for dinner every night. If you wanna go out committing crimes after dinner, that’s fine. But you’ll be here every evening for a sit-down meal with me.” I walk up to him and press the can into his hand. “Understand?”
He presses his lips together.
“Especially this Friday night,” I go on. “Because we have guests coming over.”
“I didn’t tell you to invite anyone over for dinner,” he says, frowning even harder.
“I thought that’s what you wanted me to do. Look pretty, make friends, entertain, just like all the other wives. Right?”
“I don’t want to waste a night making small talk, Finch. Not to mention the fucking logistical nightmare it’d be to make sure they’re not wearing wires or carrying weapons or anything like that…No. Call it off.”
“Hm. Well, Tino will be disappointed,” I say casually. “I invited him to dinner to say thank you for everything he’s given to us. He’s bringing Connie, too. You know none of the Wives have ever bothered to invite Connie to dinner? Tino always brings her, of course, but she was justecstaticto get her own real invite from me, instead of being an unnamed plus-one. But sure, I guess I can call the whole thing off.”
I have him, and he knows it.
“Finch,” he sighs, and then looks at the ceiling like he’s at the end of his tether.
“It’s a power move, baby. You gotta respect me for making it.”
There’s a long pause before he admits defeat. “What time on Friday?”
“Seven for drinks. Dinner at eight. But you’d better be home by six to shower and dress for dinner. And I promised Tino we’d show him our honeymoon photos. I’ll get them printed tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he says. “Now what the hell is this can of cream for?”
“Oh, that? That’s for dessert.”
And with that, I turn and lean on the island counter, pulling my asscheeks open for him. There’s a deep silence behind me, so I glance over my shoulder and give him a sly smile.
“Come on. Cream me, baby.”
* * *
When I wakeup the next morning, Luca is still there next to me, his arms around me, his nose pressed up against my shoulder.
It’s the first moment I’ve truly felt like a married man since the honeymoon.
As usual, Luca goes out to work, but not before we have breakfast together. And this time I can see his work isn’t just an excuse, like it has been for the past weeks.
I really do think he meant it, that he finds his mind keener if he keeps his distance. But that’s not good enough for me. He’ll have to find a balance. Besides, regular sex can only be a good thing, right? Keep his brain ticking over and his balls lighter?
As for me, I set about making plans for Friday night. When I bounce out the front door to see Luca off, Marco is just pulling up, and actually grins to see me.
“Naked cooking worked out okay, huh?” he asks in a low voice, while Luca is busy getting his coat.
