“What color are your eyes?”
She couldn’t remember when he’d quit noticing her eyes. Or when she’d become invisible.
“Blue,” she said. But they weren’t even close. He should know that. Him, her 99 percent Match. Her husband of eight months.
“How tall are you?”
“What’s with all the questions?”
He let his pen drop and shrugged. “It’s for insurance.”
Deep in her heart she felt a sting: the sort of sting that lit a spark. On the surface she smiled. “That’s my guy. For both of us?”
“Of course, dear.”
“Good.” Inside she vowed: I’ll get the job done first.