My Husband Can Hear Every Unspoken Thought Of Mine novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Terms

Leona tests whether he really hears her, sets her terms for the marriage, and Barrett's ringtone sends her after Ansel.

I did what any reasonable person would do at ten past four in the morning.

I decided he was lying and tested him.

I thought of a number.

Seventeen.

"Seventeen," Ansel said.

I thought of my phone password, which is my grandmother's house number backward plus the year I left her dinner table.

He recited it.

He did not look happy about it.

"I'd like it noted that I didn't ask for that one," he said. "It just arrived."

"Get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head. You're being loud in the room I'm sitting in."

I got out of bed in the wedding dress I had slept in.

Then I went to find coffee and a second opinion.

The first test was the elevator.

A bellhop stood in it with a luggage cart and a hat that looked two sizes too small.

I looked at the hat and thought, that hat is a cry for help.

"It's a nice hat," Ansel said, beside me.

"Thank you, sir," the bellhop said.

I had not opened my mouth.

I thought of the worst thing I could think about the bellhop's mother, just to see.

Ansel took my elbow, said "Don't," very quietly, and the bellhop asked if everything was all right.

"Everything is wonderful," Ansel told him. "My wife is just thinking."

The second test was the breakfast room.

Our hotel serves four hundred covers on a wedding Sunday.

Every one of those guests was eating within sight of our table.

I picked up my fork and silently recited the occupancy figures for the Harbor Street property.

Nobody reads those for fun, so I figured nobody could guess them.

"Four point one," Ansel said, buttering toast. "You said four point three. It was four point one."

A woman at the next table looked over.

"Mind reading is a hobby of mine," Ansel told her.

She laughed and went back to her eggs.

The third test was worse, because I didn't mean to run it.

Ansel put down the knife and said, in an ordinary voice, "You can stop thinking about the other night."

"What other night?"

"The dinner with the three of us. You keep going back to it."

I hadn't thought of it once that morning.

Then I had, all of it at once, with the lemon tart in it.

He looked at the table.

I could not decide whether it was kindness or an ambush.

I put my napkin down and ordered myself to think about absolutely nothing.

Nothing turned out to be very crowded.

"That was loud," he said.

I pointed at the terrace doors.

"Outside. Now."

The terrace had one iron table and a view of the parking structure.

I stood across the table from him with my arms crossed.

"How long?" I said.

"Since the cake. I was in the ladies' lounge with Melody and a thumb, and then your voice came on."

He rubbed his face.

"I thought I was tired. I wasn't tired."

I should say that I believed him.

It didn't occur to me to wonder why he knew the dinner in such detail.

I laid out the terms, because I need things on paper even when the paper is just me.

"One. Separate rooms."

"Fine."

"Two. No touching in public."

"Fine."

"Three. You don't answer my thoughts out loud in front of anyone."

"Fine."

"I'll think what I like, and you'll keep your face still."

"My face is always still."

I hadn't planned the fourth term until I was saying it.

"Four. I never expect you to stay anywhere," I said. "If you leave, I don't count the minutes."

Ansel said nothing for a long time.

The parking structure had a flag on it that said P3.

"Those are four terms," he said finally. "I'll sign the first three."

"Sign the fourth."

"I heard what you thought when you said it."

"Then you know I mean it."

"I know you think you do."

"That was not a thought," I said. "That was a statement."

"No," he said. "That one was both."

His phone rang.

"Eye of the Tiger" came out of his pocket in the middle of the terrace.

We both looked at it.

"Don't," I said.

"I haven't said anything."

"I know. I'm talking to your hand."

He picked it up.

I stood there with my arms folded and thought, as clearly and calmly as I could: go.

Then, because the second part wouldn't stay quiet: and don't bother coming back for lunch.

Ansel winced, once, at the second part.

"Barrett," he said into the phone. "What now."

I heard a voice on the line, high and very loud, saying something about Melody and a car and a bridge.

Ansel looked at me over the phone.

"She left again," he said. "He wants me to help find her."

"Then go."

"Leona."

"I said go." I did not say it again, because I don't.

He took the bag off the chair, went to the terrace door, and stopped there, waiting for a second ask.

I did not give it to him.

When the door shut behind him, I waited a moment.

Then I picked up my purse and followed my husband down the stairs.

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