Page 54 of The Work Wife

He laughed at his phone and nodded, though she couldn’t see him.

See you at ten. Good night, wife.

Night-night, husband.

He tossed his phone on the sofa and picked up a book.

* * * *

After tossing and turning all night, Jamie was running late for breakfast the next morning. She might have sent a text apologizing for not being there yet, but stopping to text would make her that much later.

She hadn’t slept well because her bed had been too . . . empty. It had also been too cold and too lonely. Apparently it had only taken her a week to convert to a person who sleeps next to another person.

Sliding into the bench across from him, she winced. “Sorry. I overslept.”

“You’re getting French toast,” he announced.

“With strawberries?”

“Of course.”

“And—”

“Whipped cream and sprinkles. I was going to ask if they could just throw a cup or two of sugar on top to make sure it was sweet enough.”

“I’ll make do with syrup. Thanks though.”

She took a sip of her coffee, which was waiting for her, thanks to her husband.

“I thought you would have been sick of me by now,” she said.

“Yeah, me too. But I guess I’ve become immune.” He laughed as his veggie omelet was set down in front of him. She felt the guilt as her mound of sweetness was lowered to the table. But fortunately the guilt was gone by the first forkful of whipped cream and sprinkles.

She was full halfway through the second piece of toast. There were two left.

Weston had finished his omelet and set his empty plate aside, ready for the pass off.

“Thanks for leaving me some strawberries,” he said as she pushed the plate across the table with a groan.

When the waitress dropped off the check, Jamie reached for it at the same time as Weston.

“Nooo way.” She shook her head. “You spent the week being treated badly by my father. I am buying your stupid veggie omelet, and probably every breakfast going forward until we either stop paying for things with money or we end up at a retirement home and can only have that gelatin with the pineapple tidbits for breakfast.”

“Fine. What are you doing now?”

Jamie gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn’t want to have to tell him she had no plans whatsoever for the last day of her vacation. Surely she had a book she hadn’t read yet. Maybe she would go to a bookstore.

“Do you want to go see a movie?”

“I’m in.” She was happy to have something to do with another human. “But only if there’s action.”

“Yes. I know you don’t like movies unless something blows up.”

They hit the matinee and then went for an early dinner. Jamie wondered if this was the way normal couples spent their Sundays. It was a selling point for sure.

After dinner, she scrambled to think of something else they could do together, rather than go home to her lonely apartment. Unfortunately there was nothing she could think of that wouldn’t sound desperate.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” he said.