“Did I wake you?”
“I’m not sure. But last night was the best night of sleep I think I have ever had.”
I cover his hands with mine. His fingers are nicked and strong. I like their record. He stands so close his breath moves my hair.We watch the pond go from pewter to silver where the light finds it. A pair of ducks drop and change course at the last second.
“What are you thinking?” he asks me.
The old me would have smiled before speaking because I know how it changes the tone of my voice into something more attractive or suitable to a man’s ears. The smile is how I faked being the perfect girlfriend to rough men. It was a mild manipulation that kept them happy and kept me safe from their tempers.
The new me smiles because my husband asks only the questions he wants honest answers to. “I’m thinking how strange it is to accept that something is over. All that fear ended in one night. The next morning the house felt different. I’m still adjusting.”
“You’re allowed to feel strange.”
“I know.” I’m still unsure how Roman has processed shooting his own son dead. It’s hard on him, I know that much. I understand he felt justified, and he was, but Vitaly was still his son. So I add, “And so are you, by the way. Allow to feel strange, I mean.”
His tone dips. “Working on accepting that.”
“I’m also thinking about the man in my kitchen who likes coffee he pretends not to like.”
“Lies. I love coffee. I don’t love that you win arguments by handing me a mug.”
“If you could hold on to an argument longer than it takes to drink a cup of coffee, you might win one someday.”
He laughs into my neck. It’s warm. It travels down my back like an answer. “You’re very convincing when I’m caffeinated.”
“Logic is funny that way.”
We stand there while the mist thins. His warmth seeps into me, and it’s times like this that I wish we could stay this way forever.
But he clears his throat the way he does when he wants to ask something, but he’s not sure if he wants the answer. But he’s always brave enough to ask. “Do you want to go back to the firm?”
“I’m not sure. I liked the rhythm of the place. I liked feeling useful. But I like being home with our boys and making a life here too. That feels more useful right now, especially after everything.”
“Whatever you want is good by me, Mina. You make the choice. I will support whatever verdict you render.”
“Thanks for that.” Choices are something I’ve rarely had, and now, I have a life ahead of me that feels full of them. It’s a little overwhelming, but the good kind of overwhelming.
“More coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I pass him my mug, and he leaves for the kitchen.
I never knew there could be a good kind of overwhelming before Roman came along and told me we were getting married. Life was always overwhelming me before him. Either with bills, or a bad man making worse decisions, or working too much.
When I was living through all of that, I could have never imagined my life would go this way.
Soon the twins will wake. One will frown. One will smile. Both will demand the day start when they say so. Being their helpless servant, I’ll kiss two bellies and a forehead that smells like sleep. Roman will pretend to argue with a baby with smiles and a mocking pointed finger, and he will lose that argument as he changes their diapers.
The door opens again. I still don’t jump. Large hands slide around my waist. His mouth finds the spot behind my ear that always makes me lean. I fit my shoulder against his chest.
“Coffee number two,” he says, pressing a fresh mug into my hands.
“Thank you.”
“You ready?”
I’m not sure what he means, but I’m ready for anything.
Because I’m finally home.
