She took a deep breath, looking past me up at the ceiling. “The head of the department at Caltech sounds amazing. She seems really happy. I sort of imagined this department full of old, awkward nerd dudes, but apparently it isn’t like that at all.”

“No?”

“Well, at least not primarily. I’m sure there are still plenty of awkward nerd dudes.” Shaking her head, she continued, “Her name is Linda Albert. She made me feel like I would have time for things outside of the lab, which I never hear on these calls. She asked about you, about your job and how you’re taking this whole interview process.”

“She did?”

Hanna nodded, sipping from her mug of tea before stretching to return it to the coffee table. She snuggled back into my arms. “I told her you were amazing. I told her you’re the most competent man I know.”

I pulled away, gazing down at her. A smile tugged at my mouth. “Did you say it like that?”

Hanna shook her head, confused. “Like what?”

“Like there are categories of competence, and a competent man is a lesser category.”

She laughed, holding up her hands. “No, no, I—”

I bent, tickling her waist, and she fell back on the couch. “As in, I’m not a bad driver... for a dog.”

Laughing harder, she wrestled against my invading, tickling fingers.

“Basically, you told the head of biotech at Caltech that your husband is a water-skiing squirrel.”

She grinned up at me, and I slowed my assault, bending instead to kiss her, to slide my lips on top of hers, feel her closed mouth opening against mine.

I moved my hand up from her waist, resting my first two fingers just above her collarbone, feeling her pulse there.

“Love you,” she murmured lazily, eyes closed.

“I love you, too.”

I watched her relax on our couch, listened to the sounds of cars and people outside. The early autumn breeze slid in through the window, cooling as night approached.

“It’s so good in the quiet,” Hanna said.

“It’s always good.” I smiled, absently humming a song I knew she liked lately, listening to the rhythm of her breath.

The pad of her finger traced the plum tattoo on my arm, and slid lower, to the black H on my hip, her favorite.

“What do you want to do tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged, running my fingers up through the soft tangle of her hair. “This. Be married. Maybe put on a movie. Order some dinner. Go to bed and fuck for a while.”

“Can I switch up the order of that a little?” she asked, fingers sliding just under the waistband of my boxers.

But as if the universe heard our plans and laughed out loud at this bullshit, the pounding of footsteps sounded outside in the hallway before a symphony of fists met our door.