“The driver could have been Hyde.”
“Yes. In light of what you’ve uncovered, could be.”
“Given that he still poses a threat, I think we should provide security for all my family.”
“That’s a good idea. There were extensive details about all of them on Hyde’s computer. You should consider letting your parents know.”
I sigh. I don’t want to alarm my family.
“We’ll concentrate our efforts on locating Hyde.”
“Find him.”
“We’ll redouble our efforts.”
“You’d better,” I warn. “Barney will be in touch and you can submit the server room footage as evidence to the police. I’ll talk to my dad and get back to you.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll get on it.” He hangs up.
I call my parents’ landline, but it diverts to the answering machine. I try my dad’s cell, but that goes straight to voice mail, too. They must be at evening Mass. I leave a message asking Dad to call me in the morning.
I gather Gia Matteo’s plans and go in search of my wife and food.
Placing the plans on the kitchen island, I stroll over to Ana, who I have to say looks fetching even in sweatpants and her camisole. She’s preparing some food; the mashed avocado looks good. I fold my arms around her and kiss her neck. “Barefoot and in the kitchen,” I whisper into her fragrant skin.
“Shouldn’t that be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?”
Pregnant! I tense. Shit. No. Kids. Hell no. “Not yet,” I state, as I try to calm my suddenly spiked heart rate.
“No. Not yet!” Ana sounds as panicked as me.
I take a deep breath. “On that we can agree, Mrs. Grey.”
She stops mashing the avocado. “You do want kids, though, don’t you?”
“Sure, yes. Eventually. But I’m not ready to share you yet.” I kiss her neck.
One day. Sure.
“What are you making? Looks good.” I nuzzle her ear. She quivers and gives me a wicked grin.
“Subs.” She smirks.
God, I love this woman’s sense of humor.
I nip her earlobe. “My favorite,” I whisper in her ear, and am rewarded with a poke in my side from her elbow. “Mrs. Grey, you wound me.” I clutch my damaged side in a performance worthy of an Oscar winner.
“Wimp,” Ana teases.
“Wimp?” Playfully, I slap her behind. “Hurry up with my food, wench. And later I’ll show you how wimpy I can be.” I spank her again and head to the fridge. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask.
Ana flashes me a quick smile. “Please.”
Ana does good sub. What can I say?
Taking both our plates, I leave them in the sink for Gail. I top off both our wineglasses, then spread out Gia’s plans over the breakfast bar. We pore over her drawings; she’s worked hard and produced thorough and detailed elevations. Her designs are impressive. But what does my wife think?
Ana looks up at me. “I love her proposal to make the entire downstairs back wall glass, but…”
“But?” I prompt.
She sighs. “I don’t want to take all the character out of the house.”
“Character?”
“Yes. What Gia is proposing is quite radical, but, well, I fell in love with the house as it is, warts and all.”
Oh. I think this house is in need of a serious update.
“I kind of like it the way it is,” she says quietly, her expression serious.
In that moment, everything becomes clear to me. “I want this house to be the way you want. Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
She frowns. “I want you to like it, too. To be happy in it, too.”
“I’ll be happy wherever you are. It’s that simple, Ana.” I mean it. You are what will make the house a home, and I want you happy. Always.
“Well—” Her breath catches in her throat. “I like the glass wall. Maybe we could ask her to incorporate it into the house a little more sympathetically.”
“Sure. Whatever you want. What about the plans for upstairs and the basement?”
“I’m cool with those.”
“Good.”
She bites her lip. “Do you want to put in a playroom?” she blurts, and her question completely takes me by surprise. She flushes.
Ana, Ana, Ana, even after today, you’re still shy about what we do?
I hide my smile. “Do you?” I ask.
She raises one narrow shoulder, trying to look nonchalant. “Um, if you want.”
I think she does.
“Let’s leave our options open for the moment. After all, this will be a family home. Besides, we can improvise.”
“I like improvising,” she whispers.
Me, too, baby.
“There’s something I want to discuss.” I don’t want separate bathrooms. I like showering with Ana too much.
Fortunately, she agrees.
“Are you going back to work?” Ana asks as I roll up the plans.
“Not if you don’t want me to. What would you like to do?”
“We could watch TV.”
“Okay.” I deposit the plans on the dining table and we both head into the TV room.
On the couch, I pick up the remote and switch on the TV and start flicking through the channels, while Ana curls up beside me and rests her head on my shoulder.