Philippe's gaze slid back to his wife. "How did you find out?"
"You said I gave you Charlotte's number, but earlier, when your phone lost its signal, and I had to call her back...that's when I realized you had Charlotte's work number."
Putain.
While he and Charlotte had done their best to eliminate every little thing that could trigger Charlee-Mae's memories, they had obviously ended up overlooking clues that could make Charlee-Mae realize the truth...even without gaining her memories back.
"If I had really given you her number like you said I did, I would've given you her other number. The one reserved for family and friends."
Her tone was more wry than furious, but this only made Philippe wonder if this was simply the calm before the storm. And when he saw Charlee-Mae take a deep breath, all he could do was prepare for the worst.
"I'd just like to know..."
No matter what Charlee-Mae would throw at him, he would simply take it and figure things out from there.
"Was it you or me?"
He would do whatever it took to keep her, and...what was that she had just asked?
Philippe blinked. "Pardon?"
His wife crossed her arms over her chest. "I want to know if it was you who wanted a mail-order bride or me who wanted a mail-order groom."
"Ah, bien..." Philippe struggled to overcome his bemusement. "Since I was not asked to pay any fees, I suppose it was you?"
Charlee-Mae's face broke into a wide smile. "I knew it!"
That was the last reaction he had expected, and Philippe gave up trying to understand things on his own. "You are not...furious?"
Charlee-Mae laughed, and Philippe started to wonder if he had stumbled into another alternate universe.
"I might have lost my memories of the past two weeks," his wife told him with a wrinkle of her nose, "but it doesn't mean I no longer know myself." She shot him a chiding look. "Duh."
Philippe didn't know whether to feel amused or disgruntled. No one had ever said 'duh' to him, but considering that his wife had every right to say a lot worse—-
Duh was good, Philippe decided privately, and a lot better than words like 'damn' and 'douchebag'.
"Ever since Charlotte got the S.A.F.E. men down the aisle," Charlee-Mae was now telling him, "I've been so, so tempted to sign up with her agency."
This was news to Philippe, but it was not enough reason to lower his guard. Hell hath no fury like a woman lied to, or so the saying more or less went.
"I've honestly lost count of the times I decided to go for it, only to back out at the very last minute because of pride. Or more like vanity. I was worried that if people were to find out I chose to become a mail-order bride, they'd think of me as this old and desperate thirty-something chick and lose all respect—-"
"Charlee-Mae?"
She immediately stopped talking. Philippe had probably called her that before, but this was the first time she remembered him doing it, and she loved how he made her name sound so...French.
"Vous pouvez répéter?"
Charlee-Mae's accent was still terrible, but for once Philippe had too many things in his mind to let it affect his libido. "Charlee-Mae," he began.
Butterflies started to flutter around the edges of her stomach. "One more time, please?"
Philippe felt as if he had suddenly lost track of their conversation. "One more time what?"
"My name."
"Ah...Charlee-Mae?"
His wife's entire face lit up, and Philippe, who had been meaning to ask if she truly was not angry, realized at that moment he already had his answer right there. And although he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth—-
"Why aren't you furious?"
Charlee-Mae looked at him oddly. "Uh...duh."
Philippe's lips pressed together to keep himself from smiling. 'Duh' was very, very good.
"Why would you think I was furious?"
"Because I lied to you."
"Oh, that."
Philippe had never heard a woman dismiss a lie so easily.
"I'm sure Dr. Manolis told you to avoid doing anything that could upset me," Charlee-Mae said wryly, "and that's why you didn't tell me the truth."
"He did indeed," Philippe said slowly, "but..."
"It's not like it was that hard to figure out, you know. You've been so careful with your replies every time we talk. You were super protective of me, and I found it very sweet."
"Je vois..."
"Oh no."
He stiffened.
"I can already tell..."
Philippe's unease returned.
"You're another overthinker like Charlotte," Charlee-Mae teased.
Philippe's head was starting to ache. Just when he started to think he was out of the woods, Charlee-Mae would say something that made him feel like he was walking on the edge of a cliff, but just as he started thinking worst-case scenarios, she would say something to ease his worries.
LOOKING AT HER, AND seeing her amber eyes once again filled with mischief, Philippe heard himself ask, "Are we truly good, ma femme? You truly do not care—-"