the softening whipped cream and ate it, then settled back against his warm chest and accepted another mouthful of ice cream. “I’m sorry I ignored you. Why were you calling anyway?”
“The partner list came out today,” he said.
“I thought it wasn’t coming until next week,” she said, then tensed up as the implications ran through her head. “Didn’t Curt make it? You said he was in for sure!”
“He made it,” Shane said as he scraped melting ice cream from the side of the bowl and ate it. “So did I.”
She swiveled around to look at him, her hand to her mouth. “You made partner?”
“I did.” His eyes were calm when they should have been glinting with victory, but he’d known for hours.
“I thought...you said...it wasn’t supposed to happen until next year!”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t.”
Shame washed through her, made her stammer. “Shane. Oh my God. And I wasn’t there.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I am so—”
A well-timed spoonful of chocolate sauce and whipped cream cut off her apology. “And I didn’t know you had layoffs coming up. Besides, it’s almost better that you didn’t answer my calls,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t there. And I realized that as hard as I’d worked, if the price was losing you, I didn’t want it.”
“You’re not losing me,” she said.
“Three hours ago I was. Even now...” Worry darkened his eyes. “You’re right about the hours. Twenty years ago making partner meant bankers hours and a seven-figure bonus every year. Today they still get the bonuses, but they work their asses off for them.”
“Let’s celebrate the accomplishment for a second,” she said quietly. “You worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you. I’m proud to be your wife.”
“Thanks,” he said simply. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You were always there when I needed to vent, or strategize. I took that for granted. Whatever’s coming, I don’t want to do it without you. Without us.” He licked whipped cream from his thumb. “I lost track of my priorities for a while. I’ve got some leverage now. I’ll do a better job of balancing work and home.”
“We have a pretty busy social calendar on Fridays and Saturdays, but maybe we could make Sunday nights our night,” she said.
“There’s no reason why an old married couple can’t go on dates,” he said. “Reese offered his house in the Hamptons this weekend, if we want it. How ‘bout it, married lady? Want to get away for a few days? We can drive out tomorrow, come home Wednesday. We can walk on the beach, make a fire at night, watch movies...”
“...and play games.” Tears rose to her eyes at the thought of four whole days in the Hamptons with her husband. “Sounds perfect,” she said.
They finished the rest of the bowl in silence. Finally she said, “I feel awful that I ignored your calls and missed the celebration.”
He flicked a glance towards the ceiling, where the fireplace in the kitchen extended up into the master bedroom. “That was pretty good fight but I’ll go another round.”
It was her turn to smile. “It’s not coffee or drinks, but I think Dr. Lindstrom would be happy with our date. Learning to fight fair is an important part of marital harmony.”
A huff of laughter, then, “I’ll be on time next week.”
The promise meant everything to her. “You think we should keep seeing her?” she asked. She thought they should, but she’d been prepared to argue for it.
“Yeah,” he said. “Great sex goes a long way, but it doesn’t fix everything.”
“At least we’re communicating again.” His erection, thick and hard through his boxer briefs and her flannel sleep pants, prodded the base of her spine. “In fact, I’m getting a clear message right now. You’re definitely ready for round two.” She turned in his arms and kissed him, the lingering taste of ice cream and hot fudge sauce sweet and tantalizing.