“Yep. Finn and Fiona want to see their friends perform.”
She nods. “So we’re on this assignment together?”
“Looks that way. Are you going to be late?”
“No, I’ll be home for dinner.”
“Good, I’m making bouillabaisse.”
“Nice. I love you.”
“Love you more.”
She ends the call and laughs at the thought of someone monitoring their conversations. She has no reason to think they’re under surveillance, and no reason to think they aren’t. But if there is an agent trying to parse out operational details from the mundane business of married life, they’ll need all the luck in the world.
Chapter Three
The key jiggles in the lock, and Leo abandons his stew to greet his wife at the front door.
“Something smells amazing,” she says as she shrugs out of her white trench coat and slips off her shoes.
He wraps his arms around her waist as she leans up to kiss him, a hint of her afternoon coffee in her lips. Then, as he always does, he inhales her hair.
And then, as she always does, she laughs while he sniffs.
“I can’t help you. You smell amazing.”
It’s true. He’s never quite decided if it’s her shampoo, her body wash, her Sasha-ness. Whatever it is, he loves the smell of his wife.
“Speaking of amazing smells, did you bake bread?”
He grins. “Guilty as charged.”
“Homemade bread and bouillabaisse? You spoil us.” Then she arches an eyebrow. “Finn’s down with this?”
Of their two children, Finn is the less adventurous eater, but they’ve luckily never had the only-brown-foods or only-fried-foods or only-macaroni-and-cheese-and-apple-slices phase with either of them.
“He has a small crush on Mademoiselle Parker, and Fiona informed him that this is a French dish. So, Finn is in.”
Sasha laughs. “Where are they?”
“Finn took Mocha for a walk. Fiona’s upstairs, purportedly doing homework, but based on the noises coming from her room, she’s also singing her heart out to some truly terrible music. Do you want to change? You have time to change before dinner,” he says, handing her a glass of a crisp white wine.
“Hmm, let me kiss the chef one more time first.”
“Gladly.”
He leans down for a kiss. Then another.
She smiles over her shoulder, dangling her shoes from the fingers of her right hand, the wineglass in her left, as she goes upstairs to trade her sheath dress and jacket for yoga pants and a soft long-sleeved t-shirt.
They assemble around the dining room table.
Fiona keeps up a steady stream of chatter, while Finn focuses on his meal. He even sops up the flavorful fennel- and saffron-infused broth with his bread.
When his sister pauses to take a breath, Finn looks up and declares,”C’est magnifique.”
High praise from a fifth grader.
