Page 70 of In Every Chapter

I pleaded silently with Greyson, but he was no help. Standing there with the Corning dish in one hand and the other hand in his bathrobe pocket, he studied the wallpaper like he was cramming for a test. I tried glaring at him instead, but it only made his mouth twitch with a hidden smile. Incorrigible man.

“Well . . .” I said slowly. “I’m afraid it wasn’t memorable enough for me to remember. But I can assure you, we’ll be the perfect models of decorum from now on.”

She patted my arm. “Quite right, dear. I knew you were the reasonable sort. I’ll be praying for you.”

Once she was gone, Greyson took the casserole to the kitchen and added it to the ensemble of casseroles already Tetrised into our fridge. Then he spun to face me, a dangerous gleam in his bright eyes. “Unmemorable, huh? Not the tune you were singing a few weeks ago.”

I snorted. “Better luck next time.”

“Is that a dare?” His blue eyes glinted in amusement.

I froze. What was I doing? Bantering and teasing him like this? It was natural, comfortable even—like a well-worn pair of my favourite oxford heels. But it wasn’t right. Or was it? He was my husband after all.

I shook my head and inched away from him. “Sorry, I just . . . I’m going to take a shower.” And I rushed away before he could say something that might have me reconsidering his words.

Chapter twenty-nine

Paisley

“You sure you’re up for this?” Greyson asked for the third time as he killed the truck’s engine. He shifted in his seat to eye me.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the headrest, studying the church’s red brick and white siding. “It’s Wednesday night, which is usually quieter. At least it was. I’m good to try.”

The line on Greyson’s forehead told me he wasn’t convinced, but he hopped out and jogged around to my side to open my door. The simple act shouldn’t have made me giddy, but Jared had stopped doing that not long after we married. Like once he won the prize, he didn’t have to put the effort in. But here Greyson was, several years into marriage and still insisted on opening my doors.

I slipped out, careful to not let the refreshing north wind play fast and loose with my breezy dress. My phone. I patted my pockets and scanned the inside of the cab. Seriously? How many times can you lose that thing? It was even yellow for goodness’ sake.

“Pais, what is it?” Greyson asked.

“My phone. I can’t remember . . . I don’t . . . I just . . .” Did I even remember my purse? It sucked enough to lose my memories, but my short-term recall on object placement was equally shot.

“Hey.” Greyson’s warm hand cupped my shoulder and tugged me backwards. “I’ve got it. You left your purse at home and gave me the phone.”

My shoulders sagged in relief. “I feel so stupid,” I muttered.

Greyson’s hand trailed down my arm to squeeze my bicep lightly. “Don’t beat yourself up. The doctor said this was normal.”

I glared at him. “Doctor Toupee needed a new bedside manner. Nothing he said was remotely comforting.”

Greyson started coughing violently, but he was laughing. “Doctor Toupee?” he asked, in a strangled voice.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice his headwear.”

“I did, but only you would have come up with a name for him. C’mon.” Greyson tugged me out of the way to close the truck door, locking it, then reached for my hand absently.

I stared at him, confused.

After a moment, understanding lit his face, and he dropped his hand. “Sorry,” he said simply.

“Do we do that often?” I asked, following him across the parking lot to the front doors.

“What? Hold hands? Sure.” Greyson paused and glanced at me. “Pais, don’t worry about it, okay? Things are gonna take time between us. I know that, and I’m in no hurry.”

“How do you do that?” I demanded.

He blinked in surprise. “Do what, exactly?”

“Be so in tune with my feelings?”