“It’s kind of hard for me to explain right now. I just have a few things I have to attend to, but, listen, it’s not like I’m having an affair or anything.”

In some households, mentioning the word “affair” might be enough to raise suspicions, start an argument, make someone burst into tears. Sarah reacted differently to the suggestion that I might be seeing someone else.

She began to laugh.

“Why is that so funny?” I asked.

She smiled. “You having an affair. Of all the people I’d suspect of having an affair, you’d be the last. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’d have too guilty a conscience. When you’ve done something wrong, you can’t hide it. It shows in your face. You get kind of flushed, you perspire. I can spot these things.”

I shot a sideways glance into our dresser mirror. I looked warm. Sweaty, even.

“No,” Sarah said, regaining her composure. “I think I’ve got it figured out. I know what’s going on.”

“You do.”

“Yep.”

“What is it you think is going on?”

She approached me and smiled. “I think maybe, just this once, for the first time since we’ve been married, you’ve actually remembered my birthday and decided to do something special about it.”

I tried to smile as Sarah slipped her arms around my waist. “That is what’s going on, isn’t it?”

I locked my arms around her and she pressed herself into me. “It’s never very easy to pull one over on you,” I said.

“You’ve been running all over the place. When I was at the market, after we got home. What are you up to?” She turned her head up toward mine and breathed on my neck. Her hands were moving from behind my waist and settling on my butt.

“I really can’t tell you now,” I said, my mouth on her ear. “I want it to be a surprise.”

She grinned, and moved her mouth onto mine. She darted her tongue in a couple of times, then pulled away. “Go close the door,” she said.

“Aren’t there kids in the house?” I said. I needed an excuse not to go through with this. I was a bit concerned, what with all the things currently occupying my thoughts, that I might not quite be up to what Sarah had in mind.

“They still haven’t come back from McDonald’s,” she said. “We’ll hear them come in.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we should wait till later.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, unbuttoning the top of her jeans and slipping onto the bed next to a pile of rolled socks and clean towels. “Close the door.”

I went around the bed and pushed the door closed. Then Sarah reached up for me, pulled me down onto the bed, undid my belt buckle and the top of my jeans.