Switching off the ignition, I step out of the car and give my back a long, relieving stretch, groaning at the stiffness of my muscles after an exhausting nine-hour shift as a community health nurse. I love my job—truly, but some days I wish I didn’t have to work such long, strenuous hours.
If it weren’t for bills, and the two other mouths to feed, I’d happily trade it all in for a tiny plant nursery of my own and spend the rest of my life tending to those instead.
As I step through the front door, I’m instantly greeted by the warm, comforting aroma of garlic and herbs. My stomach growls in protest, probably because the last time I ate was six hours ago.
One thing I’ve always loved about Adrian getting home before me is that he usually has dinner ready before I walk through the front door. After a long, punishing day, there’s nothing better than coming home to my family… and a warm, home-cooked meal waiting on the table.
Locking the door behind me, I wander into the kitchen, following the trail of rich, savoury smells until I find Adrian standing at the stove. He’s focused on the pan in front of him, slowly turning a thick, juicy steak with a pair of tongs.
He hasn’t noticed me yet. For a moment, I simply watch him—the easy way he moves, and the intense concentration on his face, as if he’s concocting something miraculous.
After I’ve had my fill, I close the distance between us, sliding my arms around his waist and leaning in, breathing in the familiar, warm, musky scent of him.
“Mmm… smells so good,” I murmur against his back, the words meant less for the food and more for him.
He chuckles softly, setting the tongs down on the counter before slowly turning to face me. He kisses me gently on the forehead, and I instantly melt into his arms.
“Hey, you. You hungry?”
“Starving,” I reply, leaning slightly to the side to peek into the pan. “What are you cooking? It smells and looks amazing.”
“Steak with garlic and herb butter, roasted carrots and potatoes.”
“Sounds fancy. You spoil us too much, Mr T,” I tease as I press a soft kiss on the tip of his chin.
He lets out a quiet chuckle. “It’s my job to take good care of my family,” he says, looking at me with a warmth and tenderness that settles deep in my chest.
I loop my arms around his shoulders and press my lips to his, feeling his breath hot against my skin. Adrian has always been a steady provider for our family, something he’s taken seriously from the moment we married nine years ago.
I’ve spent years reminding myself just how lucky I am to have someone like him beside me every day, especially when men like him are so rare to find these days.
We were the classic high school sweethearts, together since Year 10 after being paired for a group assignment inEnglish. Over time, we became each other’s firsts in everything—first kiss, first relationship, first sexual encounter.
He was the shy, soft-spoken guy who preferred spending his time in the library rather than out in the school yard with the rest of his peers, while I was the more popular one—always socialising with just about everyone.
We were two very different people, yet there was something about him that held my attention. He wasn’t the most confident or self-assured, but he was sweet and gentle—so unlike the other boys in our grade.
Unfortunately, after graduation, Adrian ended things without warning, and I was completely crushed. We had just received our admission letters to different universities, and he admitted that he wanted to experience uni life without the constraints of a relationship.
I later discovered the real reason behind the break up was because he firmly believed I would eventually leave him, once I realised there were better men out there than him.
He had always been an insecure person. I just hadn’t realised how deeply it ran.
Two years after the break up, we bumped into each other at a mutual friend’s party, and after talking for hours, he asked me out again that very night. We’ve been together ever since.
Life hasn’t always been perfect for us, but we’ve stood by each other year after year. I can’t imagine living any other life than this one, with him.
I glance around the room, noting how unusually quiet it is.
“Where’s Zac?” I ask my husband as he switches off the stove and begins plating our dinner.
“He’s in his room doing his homework... or at least, that’s what I’m hoping he’s doing.”
“I’m going to go in and say a quick hello.”
Adrian nods, carrying the plates to the dining table. “While you’re at it, tell him dinner’s ready.”
“Sure,” I reply, shrugging off my coat and draping it over the island chair.
