Page 170 of The Problem With Pretending
WILLIAM: What if I don’t tell you?
ME: Then I’ll just ask your mum.
WILLIAM: Fine. Wednesday. I land in the afternoon, but since I don’t have your address, I can’t show up at your door.
ME: Thank goodness for small mercies.
WILLIAM: You’re not getting away with it, Grace. You had your chance at the airport, and you declared that I won bingo. You know what that means.
ME: That was a momentary lapse in judgement.
WILLIAM: If you say so.
ME: It was!!!
WILLIAM: You’re so stubborn.
ME: I think it’s one of my better qualities.
WILLIAM: Certainly beats your snoring.
ME: I don’t snore!
WILLIAM: Darling, I’ve slept next to you for the last week. You absolutely do snore, even though I said you don’t.
Darling.
Why did that send a shiver down my spine? A good one, too.
It was the first time he’d called me anything other than Grace or Cinderella, and I could just hear his voice inside my head saying it.
Darling.
I leant my head against the sofa cushions and closed my eyes. A part of me wanted to lie here and replay that little thing in my mind over and over, but a knock at my door jolted me out of my reverie.
My dinner was here.
I quickly got up and retrieved it from the delivery driver and carried it through into the living room.
ME: My dinner is here.
WILLIAM: Anything to avoid talking about your snoring.
I snapped a picture of the delivery bag and wine bottle and sent it to him while I fetched a glass for my wine.
Not that I needed the glass.
Honestly, I was in a straight-from-the-bottle mood.
WILLIAM: I’m jealous.
ME: Of my dinner? Don’t be. It’s just pure carbs.
WILLIAM: Do you not have food at your house?
ME: No. Amber doesn’t grocery shop.
WILLIAM: How can an adult not grocery shop?
