Page 133 of My Wife
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“I’ve tried all the things. From traditional Western medicine solutions to woo-woo witch doctor quackery. I’ve come to accept that I’m a person who doesn’t sleep. It’s a hopeless situation.”
“That’s the least Jessica-esque thing you’ve ever said.”
Lifting her mug to me, she says, “I’m drinking an herbal chamomile blend, but you’ve been warned that our coffee bill will always be high. Short of moving to Brookking Sound or that hotel in Colorado—I slept well while we were in both places—I’m sorry to say that you married a night owl.”
“Me,” I say, more of a statement than a question because I realize the common denominator.
She flashes her hand and the ring shines. “Yes, you, Liam. We got hitched. Remember? Thanks for not standing me up.”
“I’d never.”
“You’re a man of your word. That’s admirable.”
“Me,” I repeat.
More to herself, Jessica says, “One of my foster siblings once sleepwalked and would carry on half a conversation before we realized what was happening. Liam, go back to bed.”
“Only if you come withme,” I say, emphasizing the word.
She splutters her tea. “What? We got married and kissed, but we never discussed?—”
Shifting from foot to foot because we’re both losing precious winks, I say, “No, to sleep. The three nights you got a full rest were with me—in Colorado, at my parents’ house, and on our wedding night.”
We were both exhausted and I slept in my tux.
She leans back as if assessing the veracity of my statement. “You’re right.”
“Come on.” I wave my hand.
She follows me down the hallway.
Fluffing the pillow, I pat the bed.
Jessica mutters. “Don’t be romantic or anything.”
Looking cute wearing a pajama set with little penguins holding hockey sticks, I say, “Nice jammies.”
“They were a wedding gift from Colette and Hendrix. You have a matching pair but look dressed for a workout.” She slides onto the bed next to me.
I don’t mention I normally sleep in just my underwear, but because I was going to check on her in the living room, I threw on some clothes.
“They’re clean.”
“I know. I washed them.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
I feel her shoulder lift with a shrug. “I don’t mind. I’ll earn my keep around here.”
“No, seriously. We’ll hire a housekeeper.”
Jessica is quiet for a long moment. “Maybe at some point, but for now, I’d like to do the laundry.”
“The deal was a ring for a ring. I’m going to get KJ a new nanny and find another assistant too.”
“No, Liam. You’re not.” She speaks with such firmness in her voice that I almost don’t dare argue.
