"Oh, honey, we really made it! Italy! I can't believe how smoothly everything went at the wedding....my mom and dad were civil to each other, your sister didn't get drunk off her ass...I mean, a little, but not like usual...and now it's just us and...and...Italy! Oooh, you know what I want to do now?" Claire paused and glanced over at David, who was gazing longingly into the middle distance. "David? Are you listening?"
"I swear, David, you're such a mystery sometimes. What are you thinking about?"
He exhaled slowly. "Um, the wedding. How beautiful you looked," he said. It was a lie. It pained him, but she wouldn't understand the mental calculus. Well, more like mental pre-algebra: he guesstimated there were 120 stairs in the flight, so 120 times 20 sets, plus six miles from the hotel and another six miles back...perfect!
He pulled Claire to him. "Darling," he said. "Let's go to bed early tonight!"