“Yeah, it could happen at any time.” I kiss her cheek, then her nose, then her mouth. “That’s so sexy.” I kiss her again. “I feel like a prize bull.”
“Which makes me a heifer.” She gives me a wry look.
I grin and take her hand. “Come on. Dinner’s ready, and I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“I worked up an appetite,” I reply, and she blushes.
I gesture at a bottle of red wine. “Want a glass?”
“I probably shouldn’t from now on,” she says.
“Oh… of course…” Our eyes meet, and we both smile.
We serve up the stew, take it outside, and eat it on the deck with chunks of bread.
We talk about the house in Stanley Point, and Wren tells me about her visit there, and how much she loved the place. We discuss what decor we like, and what kind of furniture we’d have. I purposefully don’t talk much about my visions of having three or four kids running around the place. My relationship with Wren feels fragile, like a seedling that’s going to take time to nurture and grow.
After dinner, we decide to watch a movie. We find some ice cream in the freezer—mint choc chip for her and boysenberry for me—serve ourselves up some with a sliced banana, and Wren chooses a romcom. We settle down on the sofa, side by side, and eat our ice cream while we watch.
After we finish our desserts, I hold up my arm, and Wren looks at it, then gives a small smile and moves up close to me.
We watch the movie, and occasionally I give her long kisses, enjoying the lingering taste of the mint ice cream in her mouth. She returns them, but I can feel her slight hesitancy, and she grows quieter as the movie goes on.
I guess she’s thinking about the fact that soon we’ll be going to bed. When we talked about marriage, I accepted her request to have her own bedroom because I knew she wouldn’t agree to marry me unless I did. I haven’t mentioned it, though, and neither has she. But the other bedrooms in the house are all made up, so if she wants to, she can use one of those.
The movie finishes, and while the sun sets and the house grows dark, we watch a few episodes of a new thriller series. I’m tired, though, despite the snooze, and as it nears ten-thirty, I say, “I think I’m done.”
“Yeah,” she says, “I’m tired, too.”
We stack the dishwasher and pack everything else away. Only then do I realize I’ve left a few items out on the deck.
“I’ll finish up,” I tell her. “I need to check my emails, too.”
She nods and heads off along the corridor toward the bedroom.
I retrieve the plates, stack the dishwasher, and set it going. I open my laptop and spend ten minutes reading my emails, forwarding some to Caesar, and answering one from him.
When I’m done, I close the laptop, check the locks, and turn off the lights. Then, with butterflies in my stomach, I walk along the corridor.
I can’t see light coming from any of the other bedrooms. I stop at the doorway to my room and lean on the doorpost, hands in my pockets.
Wren is sitting in my bed, on the left side as I look at it, leaning back on the pillows, reading a book. She’s wearing a gorgeous scarlet satin nightie. Her hair is up in a loose bun. She’s removed her makeup, and her face looks flushed and young.
After about ten seconds, she looks up and sees me, and I watch a jolt pass through her. She blinks and gives a hesitant smile.
I smile back, but I don’t say anything. I grab a handful of my tee at the back of my neck and pull it over my head. Then I go through to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I come out, conscious of her watching me as I take off my trackpants and toss them over the chair.
She closes her book and puts it on the bedside table. “Which side do you prefer?” she asks quietly.
“This is fine,” I reply, just as softly. I slide beneath the duvet and lean back on the pillows.
Wren turns off the bedside light. I lift an arm, and she moves up close to me, then slides her arm around my middle. I wrap my arms around her, and we cuddle up.
“Everything okay?” she asks. “With your emails, I mean?”
“Yeah. I forwarded a bunch to Caesar, and he’ll deal with them.” I kiss her hair. “How’s your prep going for the start of term?” I know she starts back next week with a few teacher-only days until school opens on February 2nd.
