“Yep.” He grins.
I deliver a swat to his bare ass and grab a pair of sweatpants to pull on. We keep the house at a comfortably cool temp, but even with the January chill, I can still walk downstairs barefoot.
We haven’t done much to the house in the ten years we’ve owned it. We’ve discussed remodeling the kitchen, but other than painting a few rooms and new flooring in others, we’ve been too busy with work to focus on it. We were only married two years when I was elected to my first term in the Senate, and Daniel was already working full-time for Effings’ campaign as a strategist.
Then, four years into my first term, Effings’ previous chief of staff was diagnosed with cancer and had to resign. By then, Daniel had worked his way into a full-time congressional staff position based in DC as a deputy chief of staff. Effings tapped Daniel to take over with his predecessor’s recommendation and blessings, and…
Well, let’s just say my boy’s made a name for himself in a short time. He’s known to be ruthless and cunning and a force to be reckoned with in negotiations. He did that all on his own, not because of who I am to him.
I’m immensely proud of him for that.
He walked away from a lucrative salary when Effings hired him full-time for the campaign, but one of Daniel’s personal motivators is that he loves a challenge, and US politics at a national level are definitely that. Several times, fellow senators have approached him about hiring him away to their offices, and he always declines. He claims he’d prefer not to risk an ethics conflict, but the truth is, my boy is very dominant in his own way and prefers the pond he currently rules.
Nothing wrong with that, either. He’s happy and safe, and that’s all I care about.
I find the steaks we took out of the freezer last night and put in the fridge have defrosted. I set them out on the counter to warm up a little before salting them ahead of grilling them. I’m in the middle of scrubbing and prepping the potatoes we’re going to bake when Daniel passes through the kitchen with an armful of clothes to take into the laundry room.
“Let’s try the new truffle salt,” he suggests. “I’ve been wanting to use it.”
“Oooh, good idea.” I reach for the cabinet to retrieve it and set it on the counter so I don’t forget as he continues on to the laundry room.
Thirteen years and counting, and we’ve made many memories cooking together. These memories are rarely tainted by my stubborn soul recalling the painful past, because I rarely cooked like this with my ghost. We mostly ate at dining halls, or restaurants, or got takeout and brought it home.
There were a lot of things I couldn’t do with him that I wished, then, that I could.
In retrospect, that, too, is a blessing.
It means fewer memories being triggered whenever Daniel and I do something. No comparisons to make.
Sometimes, unanswered prayers are the greatest secret blessings, even if we can’t see them as such at the time and it takes years to truly recognize them for what they are.
