“No.” I laugh. “What would we do with a brass stroller? No, it’s rose gold. Eighteen karat. Good stuff.”
The skin between her eyebrows tightens, and her jaw slackens some more. She starts to say something a few times, then finally manages in a slightly screechy tone: “You bought a gold-plated stroller?”
“Well, yeah, it’s, you know, gold.” I spread my arms. “But it isn’t about themetal. Don’t you think it’s cool?”
“It’s gorgeous, butgold-plated? Didn’t they have a normal-people stroller? You know, made with, like, plastic or something, maybe?”
“But then it wouldn’t have caught my eye. Why would I buy anything that doesn’t scream my name? Or in this case, my wife’s name.”
She looks at me like I’m speaking Greek. “Oh my God!” Her tone says I’m insane. “How much did you pay for it?”
“I don’t know. Madison probably has the receipt somewhere—”
“You—don’t—know?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t believe you.” She pulls out her phone and starts typing. “Holyshit! Oversixty thousand dollars?!”
I shrug. “Yeah, somewhere around there, maybe.” Or maybe not. “If it’s that important, I can ask Madison to check. Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention to the price. I just thought about how cute and stylish you would look pushing this with our baby in it.”
Her cheeks flush with a combination of shock, appreciation, disbelief and joy. She covers her mouth with her hands. “I don’t know what to make of you.”
“I know, I’m complex. But I can explain me to you. Generous husband. Amazing baby daddy. A man you should please. Maybe the man you should put Adam on hold for…”
She laughs, then snorts when I mention Adam. She approaches the stroller slowly, like it’s the Holy Grail, gingerly touches the handle and pushes it a bit.
Grace looks even prettier than I imagined. The gift could’ve cost a million bucks, and it would’ve been more than worth it to see my wife like this.
“Wow,” she breathes softly.
“It evenfeelsgolden, doesn’t it?”
“It’s…incredible. I don’t know what to say.” She laughs.
Her joy is so contagious, and I can’t help but smile. “I told you—just a ‘thank you’ will suffice.”
“Thank you.” She hops over and loops her arms around my neck, surprising me, and plants a kiss on my lips. As she pulls back, I tunnel my fingers into her hair and pull to me again for a proper kiss.
My phone buzzes. I ignore it and deepen the kiss instead. Hormones are surging, and I want to take my wife to bed again.
The phone keeps on vibrating. It’s not work—I told everyone I wasn’t answering anything this weekend. Reluctantly letting her go for a second, I glance at the screen to see if it’s anything urgent.
–Noah: Nobody said Vivienne Webber was on crack.
–Sebastian: Jesus… somebody needs to stop her.
–Griffin: Need help?
–Me: What did she do?
–Noah: She made a post on an anonymous site that’s basically a knockoff of Reddit’s Am I the Asshole yesterday morning. It didn’t get much attention, but now that she updated it with a link to your wedding, it’s gone viral.
What the fuck?
–Grant: Why do people care so much about the wedding? No offense, Hux, but it was just a wedding.
–Griffin: He’s Ted Lasker’s last remaining bachelor son. Or was.
