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The ringing escalates and Mireille clambers sleepily over top of me, accidentally squashing my breast with her elbow.
“Ow….”
“Sorry. What time is it?" she mutters, grabbing her cell phone.
“Hello? Oh, Anton! What? That’s impossible! It’s only-" she holds the phone away from her to read its clock. Her mouth drops open in surprise.
“Um, we … lost track of time. We were so busy!" she nods her head vigorously and I break out in a smile.
“Doing? Well…..we were…washing the dishes.”
I snort and roll over as she swats me.
“Well…we had let them pile up for a long time…you know how that is. You just have a whole lot to do at once.” Her body is shaking as she tries not to laugh.
“What? Ok, wait.” She hands the phone to me. “He wants to talk to you.”
I take a deep breath to compose myself, and take the phone from her.
“Hello Anton.” I try to sound calm, or however one sounds when doing dishes.
“Little bit, you’re not in the kitchen, are you?” his voice is teasing. How does he know?
“Not really.” I bite my lip, not sure what to say. I can feel Mireille watching me.
“So just tell me one thing- how is she?”
“Mireille is an excellent dishwasher.” I reply, and hand the phone back to her. I can hear him laughing, and the pillow slamming into my face tells me I’ve probably said the wrong thing, but I don’t care. I’ve never been happier, in my life, than I am with Mireille, washing the dishes.