Leo watched, utterly entertained, as his wife transformed into a blur of motion. She grabbed the dress, clutched it to her chest, and hopped, actually hopped, toward the bathroom, nearly tripping over the towel still wrapped around her. She caught herself, steadied, and disappeared inside with a muffled, cute curse.
The door slammed.
Then opened again.
Her head popped out, hair already a mess from the frantic movement. "Where's my makeup bag?"
"On the vanity, where I put it."
"Right. Okay. Thanks." She disappeared.
The door slammed again.
Leo's lips twitched.
Through the door, he could hear her moving, drawers opening and closing, the click of makeup products being set out, the soft thump of something dropping and her quiet "oops" that followed.
Then the door opened again.
Her head reappeared. "My shoes?"
"By the dress."
"Right. Obviously. I knew that." She disappeared.
The door slammed.
