“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your favorite flavor.”
“That is the,” He laughed mockingly. “That is what you want to know about me?”
“Assuming it is not a secret.”
“English tea,” he said dryly before bending his head back down.
“What is your favorite animal?” she asked next.
He sighed loudly. “Dogs.”
“And your least favorite?”
He clicked his tongue, frustration growing. “Cats.”
“How original,” she laughed. “It is almost as if these answers were planned in advance.”
“Perhaps the questions themselves are the ones lacking in originality?”
“More personal? Well, if you insist.” He could see her grinning out of the corner of his eye. “What is your favorite pastime?”
Christopher looked up and narrowed his eyes. “I would prefer it if we stayed on topic.” He indicated their work. “This needs to be done, and asking what size pants I wear isn’t going to do it.”
“That’s my next question,” she said innocently. “First, I want to know what your favorite pastime is. Surely, even one as dour as you has a way of killing time that he enjoys?” She then tilted her head. “You do not know what it means to enjoy oneself, don’t you?”
Christopher groaned and folded his arms. “If I answer you, do you promise to leave me alone?”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “I promise.”
The first instinct that came to Christopher was to lie. That was what he was used to doing. That was the safe option. He was painfully aware of how dangerous it was to let Rose know too much because the more she learned, the more she would see how often he faked his personality and the things that he said.
It was as he looked at her that Christopher felt something strange occurring inside of him. Something he could not recall having ever felt before.
It was how much fun she looked like she was having with him; the smile on her lips, the glimmer in her eyes, and the sense of joy that wafted from her like perfume. It was intoxicating, it was alluring, and it reminded Christopher of the feelings that were steadily growing between them.
His wife wasn’t ordinary. She was perceptive and intelligent. She was strong-willed and confident. She was, in many ways, like him, only she didn’t try to hide who she was.
And most strangely, despite the danger, Christopher found that he wanted her to know the truth. It was such a small thing, but to lie felt wrong all of a sudden, as if she deserved better.
Perhaps I deserve better, too? For once, I want to stop living a lie. For once, I want someone to see me as I truly am. Even if it is only a fragment of my true self.
“You wish to know what my favorite pastime is?” He folded his hands on the desk and looked right at his wife.
“I would love to,” she said back, imitating his action.
“I enjoy gardening.”
She snorted. “I was trying to be serious, Christopher.”
“I am being serious.”
“No,” she said. “You are not. Now, are you going to answer the question or not?”
He continued to look right at her, resisting the urge to smile. “You asked, and I told you. When I have free time, when I am stressed, when I just want to get away, I garden.” He shrugged. “And that is the truth.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You are being serious.”
“Is that not what you have been saying about me? That I am far too serious?”
