I look at my wife, and she smiles at me. My wife. I've done the thing I swore that I would never do again. I've shackled my life to a woman's.
Bloody hell.
*****
Once we've checked in at the resort and the bellboy who brought our luggage has left, I clap the door shut behind us. "I need to ring my family in private."
"Ring them?" Emery asks.
I articulate each syllable with painstaking care as I explain, "Call them on the telephone. To explain what—what I've done."
"You make it sound so romantic."
"This is not romance, it's a business arrangement."
"Yeah-yeah, I know." She flings a hand in the direction of the balcony and its sliding glass door. "Go, make your call in private. I won't listen at the keyhole like a certain someone did when I was having a good time in the jacuzzi."
My entire body stiffens, and my features warp into an expression that likely conveys my exasperation. Why must she keep mentioning that incident? I did not listen at the keyhole.
She skims her hands up my lapels. "You are so easy to tease. And so much fun to tease too."
I lift my gaze to the ceiling, then march out onto the balcony and jerk the glass door open and shut. Dropping into one of the chairs positioned around a circular table, I turn my back on my wife. A glass door isn't enough of a barrier. A concrete retaining wall wouldn't be enough to keep my wife from harassing me with her inappropriate humor and outlandish behavior.
Now that I'm settled in on the balcony, I dial Lachlan's number.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he grumbles. "It's the middle of the bloody night, Rory."
"This is my revenge for when you called me at an ungodly hour because you'd cocked it up with Erica."
"All right, I suppose I deserve that. What do you need?"
Suddenly, I feel itchy all over, but scratching doesn't alleviate the problem. "I have some, ah, news that might be of interest to the family."
"What is it?"
"I got married."
Silence follows. The only sound is my pulse thumping in my ears and a faint hissing on the line.
"Are you there, Lachlan?"
He clears his throat, and I hear a shuffling sound as if he's moving around. "Aye, Rory, I'm here. But I cannae believe what I thought you just said. You're…married?"
"Yes."
"But how—I mean, when did you meet the lass? Aren't you the man who swore he'd never, never, never take a wife again?"
I scratch my arm, but that bloody itch still won't go away. "Aye, I said that. But I changed my mind. Her name is Emery, and I'm bringing her home tomorrow. Please alert the family."
"Aye, I'll do that. But…" His tone is rife with confusion when speaks again. "When did you meet this woman?"
"Friday night."
"Friday night?" Lachlan shouts. "Erica, wake up. Rory's having a stroke or a psychotic break. We need to ring Jack."
"I do not need a therapist, Lachlan, so donnae be ringing our cousin."
"But you married a woman you met Friday night." He still sounds more shocked and confused than I've ever heard him sound before. "You must be off your head."