“Like what?”
“Annoying your mother.”
Caleb took that assignment seriously.
After Darius left the kitchen, Caleb stared at me.
Then I stared at him.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Finally, I whispered, “Don’t.”
His eyes widened.
“You’re thinking it too!”
“No.”
“You are!”
“I absolutely am not.”
“You want to book tickets.”
I covered his mouth with my hand.
“Your father has ears like a bat.”
That night, after Darius fell asleep, I checked the flight.
There were still seats available.
I booked two near the back.
Row 31.
Then I spent the next three weeks feeling like I was committing an international crime.
I had never been good at keeping secrets from Darius.
On our fifth anniversary, I tried organizing a surprise dinner and accidentally forwarded him the restaurant confirmation.
For his thirty-fifth birthday, I bought concert tickets and left them sitting on the printer.
Darius had kissed my forehead and said, “You’re adorable when you commit espionage.”
