He was glad that mention of her birthday was cheering her up just a little. It was something to look forward to after going and writing to her father, and then seeing him.
Brushing a curl behind her ear, he took one of her hands in his. "And does my wife have any special requests?" he smirked. "French? Italian? Spanish? Or perhaps something a little more further afield - Indian?"
She was his wife, and as much as they'd both protested it since the wedding, he let his thumb brush over the backs of her fingers. She had no ring. He said nothing, but had a much better idea of what he'd do when he went to the jeweller.
"And then perhaps whatever Mrs Bletchley desires, for the rest of the evening." He gave her a knowing smirk, wondering why it was just so easy to slip into this banter with her. It just had to be the bond - he would never have dreamt of acting like this in the past with any woman. But now he was finding that he was thinking about her as much as himself, and the boys. That in itself was a frightening thought, but he pushed it aside.