Informed Consent Page 8

  Denise had generations of stubborn people in her veins.

  “It’s still not correct. You aren’t listed as a contact! They have no right to call you.”

  “Great. So tomorrow, when we meet with them, what do you say we let them tell us what they think is wrong with Zander? We’ll all talk about it and try real hard to come up with a good plan for him besides the ‘get your kid another private school option,’ not that it would be a bad idea by the way. Then you can tell them about the lawsuit you intend to pursue because when you didn’t answer the phone -- because you never do, and they’d left four messages already, they called your husband and asked for a meeting instead of you.”

  This time it sank in. Denise felt knots -not the hot I want to have sex kind - form in her belly. “What happened?”

  Andrew bent down and leaned in until his face was only inches from hers. “I.don’t. know. He wouldn’t say because I haven’t been added to the contact list yet.”

  He stood up and shot her a look with more than a hint of coolness layered on. “Which doesn’t make me very happy and you can fix that detail while we’re there tomorrow.”

  Denise opened her mouth.

  Andrew clamped his hand over it. “Don’t.” He scowled down at her. “If you bite me I swear to god I’ll whip your ass right here in this kitchen regardless of who sees.” He paused for a second, waiting to see if she’d be stupid enough to do it.

  She decided to demonstrate that she too could focus on the important things.

  “Zander?”

  “After diner we’ll do something wholesome. We’ll wash the dishes. Maybe play some scrabble. I’ll read the newspaper. Maybe you’ll watch something on TV. Later on babe, we’re going to our room. And there are quite a few things you and I will discuss.”

  He grinned. It didn’t make her feel any better at all.

  “Mostly I’ll discuss. You’ll listen.”

  He patted her cheek. “And apologize. I suspect you’ll cry, too.”