I sit down next to him, take a deep breath, and justlaunch.
I tell him about everything, the creaky old headset that made my ears ache, the little cubicle I’ve already started personalizing in my head, the older woman who called to book a vacation for her whole family and told me I “sounded trustworthy.” How Teddy cracked jokes to make me relax.
I also tell him how much I missed Penny. And how I totally get now why he used to ask for so many pictures when he went back to work.
Matthew chuckles, chiming in with soft“wows”and“really?”like he wants every detail.
I twirl my noodles on the fork, still buzzing from the day. “I know it’s just my first day,” I say with a grin, “but it felt good.Ifelt good.”
“I’m glad,” he says softly. “You earned it.”
I reach over and squeeze his forearm, my smile warm. “What about you? How was your day?”
He nods toward my food as if to sayeat first, I take a big exaggerated bite.
He lets out a quiet laugh and starts, “I dropped off Penny at nine. Then I got some groceries, came home and watched a little TV. Cleaned. Watched some more TV. Went to therapy and nearly cried. Oh, and someone from Marx Corp called. I apparently have a meeting tomorrow about my performance at Marx Airline.”
I blink at him, my fork suspended mid-air. There’s alotto unpack there.
I go with the easier one. “Did they hint if it’s good or bad?”
He shakes his head, lips pressed together.
“Well,” I say, swallowing my bite, “we’re prepared if they fire you. The severance will hold us over, and like you said, you practically held that place up. You’ll get another job in no time. In the meantime, you can freelance… or just take a few days and breathe.”
Matthew’s shoulders relax a little. He smiles, small but real. “Thanks for that.”
I nod, then carefully ask, “What happened at therapy?”
He shrugs, rubbing a hand over his head. “I realized I may have some unresolved feelings about my ma.” His mouth twitches. “And… you were right. I need to confront her.”
I hold my breath, watching his face, waiting.
“But,” he adds quietly, “I’m just… not ready yet.”
He looks at me like he’s bracing for a storm.
I soften my voice. “It’s your choice, Matthew. I wasn’t… ordering you to talk to her.” I shrug gently. “I just wanted you to consider it.”
His shoulders ease a little, the tension bleeding out slow.
We fall into a quiet rhythm after that, picking up our utensils and finishing dinner without needing to fill the silence. It’s not awkward, not anymore. It’s something else.Charged.
I wash the dishes while Matthew moves around the kitchen, pulling containers out of cupboards and lining them on the counter. It’s for my lunch tomorrow, another one of those things he’s just… taken on.
He told me once that his office always offered free lunch and he felt like he missed out on something, like the quiet intimacy of someone making a meal for you. So now, this is his thing.He packs my lunch with way too much attention, narrates sometimes like he’s hosting a cooking show, and honestly… I love it. Food tastes better when someone else makes it. Especially when that someone looks at you the way he looks at me when I catch him doing it.
The air hums between us. Not loud or demanding. Just… there.
Matthew brushes by me, close enough that I feel the warmth of him against my back, and I can’t stop the small smile that creeps onto my lips. We haven’t had sex since before Penny was born.
At first, it was medical. Then emotional. But now, for the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re both on the same page.
When everything’s done, I check on Penny while he switches off the kitchen lights. She’s still fast asleep, tiny hands curled near her face, breaths soft and steady. I double-check the monitor. Always.
Matthew comes up behind me, silent, the warmth of his chest just barely brushing my back. We stand there together, staring at our daughter, the quiet kind of moment that used to feel rare but doesn’t anymore.
Then I turn, sliding my fingers into his.
