Page 12 of Long Live the King
Emma smacked him in the arm. “Are you itchy?”
He laughed, “No, of course not, it’s just what it’s called!”
Fraoch said, “What does itchy mean?”
Zach said, “They call it the seven-year-itch, when you want to fool around — ugh, it was my poor attempt at a joke.”
Fraoch’s eyes went wide. “I am surprised ye survived it.”
Magnus said, “I think we hae come close tae a murder, I am grateful Madame Emma inna the type tae carry a dirk.”
Zach said, “I thought it would be funny, but in hindsight...”
She said, “What my husband is forgetting is that itchiness can go both ways.” She scratched behind her ear and then her side.
He said, “Oh no, no, no don’t tease me!”
She said, “He’s also forgetting the true meaning of a Fakiversary, where husbands must lavish gifts upon their wives, especially long-sufferingwives.”
He joked, “So the thing I was already getting you...?”
She grinned. “Sounds like the only solution is you’ll need to double it.”
He said, “Yes, of course, anything you say, love of my life. Just, promise if you get itchy you come to me for the cream.”
We all groaned, exaggeratedly. Zach said, “I know I know, humor is risky, again, poor joke. I will triple the size of the diamond.”
Emma laughed. He kissed her on the cheek.
We had offered to watch the kids while Zach and Emma went out to dinner, but they had gone out the weekend before to a hotel for two nights, calling it the prelude to the Fakiversary, and so for the actual Fakiversary they preferred to have a dinner with all of us.
The kids were wiped out by the day, a bouncy house with a water slide, and cake and ice cream. The littles had been melting down, and had all gone to bed. Archie and Ben, already in their pajamas, were watching a movie and eating popcorn in the living room with popcorn.
And we adults were out on the back deck, a long table decorated with a floral centerpiece, and takeaway from Zach’s favorite restaurant. He had to sit there while we served it too, not helping, since he was part of the couple we were celebrating.
He gripped the edge of the table comically, pretending like it was hard to watch Fraoch pull boxes from the bags, popping theclamshell lids open, and peeking inside. Fraoch poked a finger in and licked it. “Och aye, tis garlic potatoes.”
Zach groaned. “It says it on the box! You don’t have to put your finger in!”
“Aye, but ye canna trust everything, Zach, this is yer problem, ye are too trustful!” Fraoch grinned at Hayley. “Inna it true?”
“I disagree, his problem is he’smistrustful, look at him, he can’t even trust us to open the boxes and put them in front of everyone.” She pulled a box out of the bag, checked the tag taped to the side. “Short ribs, who ordered short ribs?’
Zach said, “Me!”
Hayley grinned. “Let me check first.” She opened the clamshell and poked her finger in. “Yep, seems like short ribs!”
Zach groaned, put his arms around Emma’s shoulders, and buried his face in her hair. “Don’t make me watch! We should have gone out.”
We got the boxes of food in front of all the places. I said, “I’m sorry we didn’t open it in the kitchen and put it prettily on the plates.”
Zach said, “I couldn’t bear letting you do it out of my sight, or in my sight, I might have a problem — but kidding aside, this is perfect.”
Magnus pushed his chair out and raised a glass of whisky. We all raised our glasses.
He opened a piece of paper and I could see his handwriting on it. He squinted at his notes in the darkness, “Och nae, tis difficult tae read, I have a good toast I wanted tae make...”
I turned on my phone’s flashlight and held it over the page.
