“Yes, she did, and I’m sorry I missed you. I stepped outside to clear my head after an irritating call with that same client. Seeing you would’ve been much better.”
His soothing words mollify me a little. He gets up and rubs my shoulders, and I relax into his touch, enjoying the gentle strokes. “She also acts like she’s so much closer to you than me.”
“We work closely together, but she won’t cross certain boundaries.” His tone is firm.
I should let it go, but what happened yesterday and the tinge of her perfume on Huxley from last night still rub me raw. “Won’t or can’t?”
His hands pause on my shoulders. “Both. Don’t you believe me?”
Pettiness doesn’t suit me. Neither does clinging to unnecessary resentment and jealousy. It’ll only tear me apart. But getting rid of my feelings is easier said than done. I drag air deeply into my lungs, then exhale, imagining all the toxicity from Madison leaving my soul. “I do, but that doesn’t mean my trust extends to her as well.”
“Like I said, I’ll have a talk with her. And I’ll get you an assistant of your own, so you won’t have to deal with her directly. I should’ve thought to get you one earlier, somebody to manage all your doctor’s appointments and so on, so you can rest when you’re here at home.”
“Huxley!” I gasp in shock. “I’m not telling you this to get you to hire me an assistant.”
“But you must be really busy to not shop for new dresses and stuff.”
“I don’t want to buy maternity clothes so early, since I don’t know how big I’m going to get.” I’m not showing as much as Ithought. When I texted Dr. Silverman, she said it was normal for first-time moms. “And just to be clear, I didn’t contact Madison to have her buy me maternity stuff.” As if I’d let someone like her near anything for my baby or pregnancy. After our interaction yesterday, I wouldn’t put it past her to sprinkle chicken blood on the baby’s pacifier or something.
Huxley pauses, then turns me to look at him. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the art auction hosted by the Pryce Family Foundation.”
I stare up at him, nonplussed.
“I’m going,” he clarifies.
“Okay… But what does that have to do with my needing to go shopping?”
“You’re going to be my plus-one.”
“Me?” I squeak.
He laughs. “Yes. You’re my wife. Who else would be on my arm if not you?”
I gasp. “Oh my God. You’re right. I didn’t think about that at all.” I’ve never attended a fancy event like the auction. How much longer is it going to take before I get used to the kind of life my husband leads?
He hugs me. “Look. Why don’t we shop for jewelry during your lunch break today?”
“Are we going to have enough time?”
“We can eat and shop at the same time. You seem partial to sandwiches. Ham and turkey with Swiss and bacon, right?”
I blink. That’s the one I had when Huxley came by the foundation. “You remember everything.”
“When it’s important.”
Hot pleasure sweeps over me. I launch myself at him, hugging him hard, and inhale the amazing scent of forest and spring and him.
He laughs. “I get a hug over remembering what you like on a sandwich?” He squeezes me. “I’ll pick you up at a quarter till noon. We’ll get you something pretty.”
* * *
Huxley shows up exactly at eleven forty-five at the Pryce Family Foundation and hands me a single bright red rose. “For my beautiful wife.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile, feeling the weight of others’ eyes as pleasure slowly swirls through me.
“Have fun!” Brenda, one of the assistants, says with a wave and wink.
“Thanks.” I turn to Huxley. “So. Where are we going?”
