Page 162 of Consummation

I tilt my rearview mirror toward my face and survey my reflection. Handsome motherfucker. Lucky bastard.Winner. I run my hand through my hair, carefully smoothing a stray, and straighten the knot on my Roberto Cavalli necktie.

I pick up the bouquet of gardenias and the velvet jewelry box sitting on the passenger seat of my fucking awesome car—what better way to celebrate my birthday than giving my wife more ice for her ever-growing collection?—and then I bound happily toward the front door of my fucking awesome house, clicking the heels of my Stefano Bemer shoes, singing the DJ Khaled song under my breath as I go.

But when I get inside my house, it’s perfectly quiet. No hustle-bustle; no signs of preparations for a birthday dinner; no wife dropping to her knees as she greets me in the doorway.

I peek into the kitchen. No chef. I check the dining area. No violinist, cellist or viola-ist. (What the fuck do you call someone who plays a viola?)

“Kat?” I call.

But my smokin’ hot wife is nowhere to be found.

I head into the nursery and, lo and behold, there’s my mother-in-law, sitting in a glider with Gracie, quietly reading her a book about farm animals.

Louise looks up from the book in her hands and her face lights up. “Happy birthday!” she says. “Look, Gracie. Daddy-the-birthday-boy is here!” Louise gets up from the glider, toting Gracie in her arms.

“Hi, Gramma Lou,” I say, kissing Louise on her cheek. “Where’s my wife?”

“Oh, she went out,” Louise says.

“What? We were supposed to have a romantic dinner-for-two-and-a-half here at the house. I had everything all set up.”

“Yes. And, I must say, everything you arranged lookedveryromantic, indeed—absolutely stunning. The chef was a real sweetheart, too. He took itverywell when Kat sent him and the musicians to Colby’s house, instead.” Louise leans in like she’s telling me a secret. “Colby’s got a hot date with his physical therapist tonight, so I’m sure he’ll greatly appreciate everything you had planned.”

I stare at Louise dumbly. “Kat sent everyoneaway?”

“Mmm hmm. She left a note explaining the new plan. It’s in the kitchen. I’ve got a few birthday presents waiting for you in there, too. Come on.” She hands Gracie to me and the three of us make our way into the kitchen. When we arrive, Louise hands me a rectangular box off the counter, wrapped in bright yellow paper and a bow.

“Thank you,” I say. I hand her Gracie and unwrap the box to find a genuine treasure awaiting me. “Wow. ‘Barrique de Ponciano de Parfidio,’” I say, reading the label on the elegant—and rare—bottle of tequila. “Lou, this stuff isreallyhard to come by—a total collector’s item. How on earth did you get it?”

She shrugs. “Oh, just a little something called the Interwebs.”

“Thank you so much. I’ve tasted this stuff once before a long time ago and it was fantastic. Thank you.” I kiss her on the cheek, and as I do, Gracie reaches for the scruff on my chin so I take her back from Louise.

“It’s from the whole family—the boys, too—we all chipped in. Even Keane.”

“Even Keane?” I ask, laughing.

“Even Keane. So that tells you where you rank in this family’s pecking order. Pretty darned high.”

“Wow, I’m totally honored. I’ll call everyone and thank them tomorrow—but will you tell them I got it and loved it?”

“I sure will. Ryan said you better save him a couple shots of that stuff, by the way, or he’ll never forgive you.”

“That goes without saying—not just for Ry, for everyone. Maybe we can do a foosball-tournament-tequila-tasting-dinner later this week?”

“Great. It’ll be your belated birthday party. What would you like me to make?”

“Oh, everything you make is great.”

“It’s your birthday, honey. Pick what you want.”

“Spaghetti, then,” I say definitively. “My favorite.”

Louise smiles. “You got it. Plus extras for the birthday boy.”

“Hot damn. You know I love my extras.”

Louise giggles and hands me another box. “This one is from Ryan, specifically.”

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