Five forty-five.
I have fifteen minutes before Juliette gets here. This place needs to look perfect. I swung by the country store to get the lavender and sage goat’s milk soap she likes for the bathroom, her favorite apple scented candle, and their homemade apple cinnamon cheesecake made by Ms. Patti. That woman can make anything and she’s good at it all. The perfect person to own a country store. I know my limits. And this chili is about the only thing I’m good at in the kitchen.
And I made sure the boots are out on the porch with a freshly swept and mopped floor.
Pulling out the lighter, I light the candle on the table, when there’s a knock on the door.
I don’t know what I expected her to do, but knocking on her own front door wasn’t in my realm of possibilities.
Very awkwardly, I open the door to invite my wife into our house like I haven’t been buried deep inside her in every room of this house.
“Hey.”
Fuck, she looks gorgeous. She’s dressed in her favorite bootcut jeans with her cowboy boots and a soft pink sweater.
I don’t think, I just kiss. I at least think enough that I only drop a kiss to the top of her head instead of pulling her close like I want to. Walking on eggshells leaves me feeling like a fish out of water with her. And I hate it.
“You look beautiful.” I whisper into her hair.
“Thank you.” She looks down next to the door and taps my boots with her foot. “I see the shoes are outside.”
A smile graces her lips as she toes off her own boots.
“Even mopped the floor.” I step aside showing off the lower level of the house and how clean it is. Hopefully she won’t look in the coat closet though. I didn’t get off work early enough to actually put things away. But I will.
“Wow. Color me impressed.” Stepping further into the kitchen she sniffs the air. “Is that the apple candle from Ms.Patti?”
“Sure is. Got your favorite soap too. But you’re stuck with chili for dinner because I’m still me, and I shouldn’t be trusted in the kitchen with anything else.” I stir said dish on the stove, letting the aroma fill the air around us.
“I love your chili.”
“Oh! And…” pulling open the refrigerator I hold out the cheesecake.
“Yum. That looks so good.” She steps closer into my space, wrapping her arms tentatively around me. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I told you it’s going to be different this time.”
She only nods with a tight smile.
Lady Mayby Tyler Childers begins playing. Our wedding song.
“Dance with me?” I ask.
She wraps her arms around my neck and we begin swaying across the kitchen floor. Her head rests on my chest and I feel like I can breathe again with her in my arms.
“I stopped dancin’ with you.” The admission of guilt feels like it frees something in my chest. Recognizing all my parts in this mess is hard, but necessary.
“You did, but I stopped asking too.”
“I never want to stop dancin’ with you, babe.”
“So don’t.”
The song drones on in the background. But she just asked me to not stop fighting for her. Not in so many words. But I can read between the lines. At least now.
“Are you hungry?” I ask when the song ends.
“Starved.” The way she takes in my body has me questioning what exactly she’s hungry for.
