"That shouldn't be any problem," he said after a long moment. "I'll move everything for you after dinner."
"Good." Hannah couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.
Riley mumbled something under his breath, but Hannah didn't hear what it was. She would have asked him to repeat but she didn't think what he said was meant for her ears.
Riley walked over to the stove and picked up the lid of the small pot of stroganoff that was simmering on the back burner. He stared into the pot an extra-long time before replacing the top, then turned and walked toward the living room.
"Oh, before I forget, Cheryl phoned," Hannah added. "She invited us over to play cards next Saturday night. Do you have anything planned?"
"No." The word came out sounding far huskier than normal.
"I'll call her tomorrow then and tell her we'll be there. I told her I didn't know how to play pinochle, but she said it was easy to learn and that I'd pick it up in no time."
He nodded, but Hannah had the impression his mind wasn't on Cheryl's invitation or playing pinochle. "Isn't this Friday your poker night?"
He didn't answer her and seemed to be lost in a fog.
"Riley?"
His gaze turned upward, meeting hers. The air in the room seemed to go still. Even the radio, which was playing in the corner, seemed to fade. Their gazes locked. Riley's expression was so tender, as though he derived a good deal of joy just looking at her. This night – either by hook or by crook, Hannah decided-she was going to make love with her husband.
From out of nowhere came the memory of the first night they'd slept together. She remembered the way he'd shaped his body around hers, holding her against him cocoon style, his long legs entwined with hers. She recalled, too, how she'd been forced to carefully lift his arm from her waist in order to escape his hold and steal away the following morning. A king-size lump formed in her throat, and it was all she could do not to promise him she'd never, run away again.
"Poker?" he repeated after what seemed like a millennium. "I… don't remember. Why?"
"No reason. I was just wondering."
He walked out of the kitchen as though he weren't sure where he was headed. He stood in front of the picture window in the living room for several moments, although there was nothing going on outside that she could tell. Hannah had the oddest feeling that if she were to speak to him, he wouldn't hear her. It was at times like these that she felt at such a loss.
True to his word, Riley helped transfer her personal items from one bedroom into the next while she washed the dinner dishes. He cleared a space for her in his closet and then carted her clothes across the hallway several hangers at a time. The chest of drawers took far more time and effort.