The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) - R.J. Blain Page 0,109
not just presents for you, but I figured maybe bribery was a viable tactic.”
“I see I will have to continue corrective therapy sessions in the evening to convince you that you do not need to convince me.”
So tragic, being invited to yet another corrective therapy session. “I really am the reason I don’t get enough sleep. Goodbye, sleep. Did I really need sleep anyway?”
“I will take more care to monitor how much sleep you’re actually getting, but I will do so in such a way you do not feel you’re being punished while getting something you need, unless you want to go witness Tiffany brassault a bunch of cops in Atlantic City again?”
“After helping to raise quadruplets, will she even have enough energy to run away to Atlantic City?”
“Well, with that in mind, I’m thinking I’ll make sure Arthur has four daily spots at the daycare. Fortunately for us, they’re expanding, so we should be able to get spots. And if there aren’t spots, I’ll negotiate with the building owners to help them expand even more. It’s job growth.”
“Can I afford to take over the day care and expand it every time we have children so we don’t displace anyone else’s children?”
My husband frowned, put the SUV into gear, and began the drive to Kennebago. “Talk to me again after we’re home.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“It’s more I would need to check your stock performance and think about it. Could you afford the yearly pay of staff, insurance, building maintenance, and supplies? I think so. But could we afford to pay out the owner and hire them to manage it? That I’m not sure of. I will say that the owner would love not having to worry about the operational costs.”
“Holding that thought until we get home.” I dug out my second lobster roll and went to work putting it into my stomach where it belonged.
“I see my cindercorn is really hungry.”
As talking would slow my digestion rate, I freed a hand and pointed at my flat stomach, blaming the twins for Quinn’s careful cultivation of my appetite and providing delicious sea bugs for my consumption.
“I’m not sure you’re far enough along in your pregnancy to increase your general ability to eat, but you know what? I’ll let you get away with it. I accept the blame for your current ravenous state.”
I bobbed my head and focused on my extended lunch, while debating the best ways to incinerate Morrison with my husband’s version of the flame game.
In order to convince my husband I could be a reasonable person when the situation demanded it, I made two documents. One, with a little effort and feedback from him, might provide information to the appropriate legal entities how best to charbroil Morrison in the eyes of the judge, the jury, and the people. The other boiled down to my wishlist of various crimes I could nail the bastard on.
Fact would drown my fantasies, but every single crime I could think of went on my second list, and some of them he might’ve even committed.
“Should I be concerned?” my husband asked.
“I love that you now ask me if you should be concerned rather than automatically worrying?”
“Forty minutes ago, after you inhaled your second lobster roll with alarming enthusiasm, it became suspiciously quiet in this vehicle. The pets are sleeping, and beyond the frantic typing of a woman on a mission to murder, it’s been silent. I can hear myself breathe. You’re not even giggling, and that level of intensity usually means you’re preparing to either light something on fire or tell me something that will, inevitably, alarm me.”
“Am I a giggler?”
“When you don’t think anyone is watching or you forget you’re with others, you absolutely are a giggler. I like it best when you giggle while you’re reading a book. I’d get a lot more reading done if I kept reading instead of admiring you while you’re lost in your book and giggling.”
I paused working to regard him with a thoughtful frown. “I giggle?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well, yes. I have been rightfully accused of being a dour and depressive excuse of a human being.”
“That was before you had a good reason to be happy, Bailey. You’re happy now, and there’s no reason for you to hide when you’re happy. If other people want to be miserable, that’s on them. You hurt nobody by being happy, so be happy. When you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Well, you are a gorgon-incubus doohickey, and may the heavens forbid