"Are you sure, you talked to Sophie about this… this plan of yours?" Marissa tilted her head to look at him, sitting next to her on the recliner, rubbing the back of his neck.
Emily had arranged two recliners on the back patio where they could see the sea. It was an odd combination where he had removed his t-shirt and only wore his cotton trousers that were rolled up from his ankles.
She was still dressed in her formal office attire, had kicked off her sandals, and was leaning back on the recliner. Even her chignon was fixed in its place.
"I did talk to Sophie," he reached out for her hand and squeezed it gently, "And I'm sure I definitely talked to her unless," he shrugged, "unless I'm suffering from memory loss."
She slapped the hand, holding hers, and freed it from his grip.
"And why are we here? Of course, if our kids are not around then we both can drop the act," This time when she spoke, thankfully there were no tears and no weak shaky voice involved.
