My heart stuttered first, followed a split second later by the rest of me. “W-what?”
“You disappeared in the middle of the night, Mick.”
Uh-oh. Commence damage control, “It isn’t that late and I didn’t disappear.”
“You didn’t take your phone either.”
Oops. That was on the nightstand. “I’m sorry.”
The apology went unnoticed. “So, yeah, you fucking vanished.”
I couldn’t deny it.
My exhausted workaholic had passed out cold the instant his gorgeous head hit the pillow. I’d brushed my teeth, waited five full minutes in hopes of a resurrection, and pulled a Houdini.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have forgotten my phone. And I should’ve left him a note. But I was barely gone an hour. How was I to know my dead-to-the-world husband would rise from the ashes before dawn?
Or noon, for that matter.
Bottom line: He wasn’t wrong.
Circumventing the landmine, I kneeled to graze an affectionate kiss along the edge of his brow. “Just wanted to let you sleep.”
He nudged into my lips and confessed, “Been awake since you snuck out.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
“That’s true. Your cloak-and-dagger skills are complete shit.”
I rolled my eyes, giving his tie a sharp tug. “And where were you going in this snooty getup?”
“To retrieve my runaway wife, of course.”
Sweetest dumb idiot ever.