that I did marry you,’ he said. ‘How would it work?’
‘It would be a meeting of our two fantasies,’ said Lou, warming to the idea. ‘We wouldn’t have to pretend to be in love or any of that nonsense. I’d do the dutiful-wife act. I’d run your house, turn up for business dos and remind you to ring your mother, but other than that you’d hardly know I was there. You could chase girls all you liked and I wouldn’t be the slightest bit jealous. I’d just wave you off, tell you to have a nice time and remind you to leave me your credit card!’
She laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Honestly, she must have had far too much to drink, but she was at the merry stage where she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Patrick was having a bit of trouble disentangling the fantasies they had discussed from the one they definitely hadn’t. Clearly, Lou wasn’t talking about the one with the stockings, anyway. He’d certainly know she was there in that one.
With an effort he remembered what she had told him about her fantasy. Something about having someone to talk to, wasn’t it? Nothing about stockings, that was for sure.
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