Page 79 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

When I stepped into the kitchen, I was struck by the oddest sensation. This was my home, and every inch of it was permanently imprinted in my brain, and in my heart. Somehow, though, I almost felt out of place as I glanced around the familiar space. Nothing had changed, yet everything felt different.

Shaking off my strange mood, I crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the container of sauce. I made a large batch every few months, enough to make several quarts, which I then froze in mason jars to use later. I stuck it in the microwave to heat it up a little, then got the box of lasagna noodles out of the pantry. When I had the time, I liked to make my own pasta, but that didn’t happen very often, so store-bought would be fine for tonight.

After filling a large pot with water and adding a generous dash of salt, I covered it and put it on to boil, then pulled out the milk, butter, and flour that I would need for the béchamel sauce.

I was slowly whisking the flour into the melted butter to make the roux when Ryan got home. My shoulders tensed at the sound of the overhead garage door opening and then closing a minute or so later. There’s no need to be nervous, I reminded myself.

“This isn’t actually your third date, Melanie Jane. You’ve made thousands of meals for the man over the years, so quit acting like a fool,” I muttered under my breath, giving the roux an extra vigorous stir.

Ryan stepped into the kitchen moments later without even taking the time to remove his coat. He stood in the doorway staring at me, and just as the butterflies in my stomach began flapping around again, his lips stretched into a wide, welcoming smile.

“It is so good to have you here when I get home. Just the sight of your SUV in the garage made me happy.”

He set two grocery bags on the center island, then crossed over to the stove and pressed a kiss to my temple as he looked over my shoulder to see what I was doing.

“I’ve been thinking about this dinner all day. I got the Italian sausage and the ground beef, along with the mozzarella and parmesan. I got stuff to make a salad, too, and some cannoli for dessert.”

He reached into the lower cabinet and grabbed the large skillet, then opened the packages of meat and started browning it while I warmed the milk to add to the roux.

The pasta water finally came to a boil, so he added the noodles while I was whisking away at the creamy sauce as it simmered and thickened. I turned off the burner, then added the seasonings and parmesan and gave it a final stir.

Between the two of us, it didn’t take long to get everything ready so that I could start layering it in the large baking dish.

We chatted about our respective days at work as Ryan prepared the salad, while I washed the pots and skillet we’d used, and wiped down the cooktop.

I glanced at the timer on the oven as I dried my hands on a paper towel. “The lasagna needs to bake for about twenty more minutes, so by the time it rests for a bit, it’s going to be a while before we eat. Do you want to find something to watch on TV, or would you rather talk?”

“Let’s talk,” he said with a slight smile. I nodded, then he reached for my hand and led me into the living room.

I sat down on the couch, and he sat next to me. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Ryan had always been like a furnace, which worked out well for me since I was usually cold, and I had to resist the urge to lean into him and relish in his warmth.

“I talked to Garrett and Tanner this afternoon,” he told me. “They asked how we were doing, and I hope it’s all right that I told them that we were going to counselling to work things out. I didn’t go into any details, of course, but I did tell them that I’m committed to making up for all the bullshit I’ve put you through, and that I wanted to make it up to them as well.”

“What did they say?”

He offered me a glimpse of a smile, then shrugged. “Garrett didn’t pull any punches and told me the best way to make it up to them was to get my head out of my ass. Tanner agreed with him and added that they would be happy as long as I made you happy again.”

I ducked my head to hide my smile. Our boys really were something else.

“They mentioned that their fraternity is going to partner with one of the organizations that helps makes houses accessible for wounded veterans and those with disabilities who have low or fixed incomes. They didn’t ask, but I would really like to help, not only because it’s a worthy cause, but it will also give me a chance to spend quality time with them. It’s been way too long since I’ve done that. I wanted to run it by you first though, before I offered.”

“It’s a wonderful idea, and I think the boys will be thrilled. I’m sure the organization could use someone with your expertise to make sure the work is done properly, too.

“From what Garrett said, they will be spending one or two Saturdays a month working with the other volunteers. I don’t want to commit to that unless you’re sure that me being gone that often won’t be a problem.”

I shook my head sadly. “A couple of Saturdays a month working for such a great cause is worlds apart from being gone almost every evening and every weekend with Mitch. I don’t want you to think you have to stay by my side every minute. I would never expect that, or even want that, honestly.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m falling back into my old habits,” he admitted.

“I appreciate that, but I also don’t want you to feel as if you have to walk on eggshells around me. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to ask my permission to do things. Communication and balance, remember?”

He reached over and gently squeezed my knee. “I remember. Promise me that if at any time you feel neglected, or taken for granted, that you’ll tell me. Use those ‘I feel’ statements that Kim told us about.”

He gave me a sly smile and raised the pitch of his voice to a falsetto as he said, “Ryan, I feel like kicking you in the balls because you’re ignoring me, or Ryan, I feel like you’re being an asshole again.”

I laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully. “That’s definitely not how those statements are supposed to work.”

“Eh, probably not, but I can guarantee you’d get my attention.”