Guilt creeps in, tapping my shoulder. There area lot of things you could find to do around this big house. Your family probably needs something. He’s asking you to be lazy.
The last part is what helps me mentally step back. Aiden is the only one who doesn’t expect more than I can give.
I swallow, my fingers tightening reflexively in his shirt.
This time, his fingers stay uncurled, his thumb stroking right at the hinge of my jaw. There’s no rush to fill the silence stretching between us. He just waits to see what I need.
Like always.
“Okay,” I say softly.
His mouth curves, not triumphant. Just sure.
“One last check-in, because it matters.”
“I’m not hiding,” I tell him. “I’m struggling a little. But I think it would be good for us to spend time together. Outside of work, away from other people.”
“I was half-joking the other day, but my wife reallyistrouble,” he rasps with a chuckle.
He backs me against the hallway wall instead of pulling me forward, then leans in, slow and almost torturous, before he kisses me—soft at first, like he’s checking in.
Is this okay?
When I don’t pull back, his hand slides to my waist, grounding and familiar in a way that makes my knees go weak.He changes the angle of the kiss, easing us deeper, gentle but deliberate.
It’s not like the steam shower, with frantic hands and boiling over emotions at an hour of the morning that usually result in terrible mistakes.
This is careful: his hand hooked under my jaw, his thumb smoothing my cheek. Every touch feels like he’s taking the time to reacquaint my face after our time apart.
Reminding us that we’re still here, and we’re relearning the ropes.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes shifting to such a dark blue they almost match his pupils.
“We’ve been stuck in survival mode for weeks,” he says softly. “We don’t really get to steal moments like this.”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
And despite my earlier spiral, I could create space for this. Stolen moments with my husband in a remarkable space where he meets me where I am, in every aspect.
“I promise another amendment to your list,” he says. “No matter how busy we get, we always carve out time for each other. Just us.”
The words land low and warm in my chest.
“What does that look like?” I whisper.
“Dates, dinners, movies—whatever you want.”
Whatever I want.
“What if I just want you?”
“You’ve already got me.” His grin widens, then shifts to something quieter. “I don’t understand how you can miss someone you see every day.”
My heart trips and stutters.
“I’m right here,” I whisper.
He kisses me again, slower this time, then takes my hand, lacing our fingers together.
