Again that grunt, followed by a sweet kiss to her temple.
She was likely the only person who had ever called her husband sweet.
“I’m going to miss this,” he said. “Once the power is on again, we won’t be isolated. We’ll have to let the world back in.”
“Air-conditioning, functioning hospitals, running water, refrigeration, television, football . . .” she argued.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
“Oreos,” she continued, “potato chips, ice cream, beef that doesn’t come from a cow whose name we know.”
He laughed. She loved that she could make this hard man laugh.
She stroked his face, so full of love she could barely contain it. He remained cautious where other people were concerned, and he probably always would. He’d never be gregarious, and neither would she, but both of them had been changed for the better by loving one another.
“We’ll be fine, no matter what,” she said.
He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. The power of that kiss never ceased to amaze her. It was electric. Now that she was over her morning sickness—which had been bad—she responded eagerly to him and they made love as they did most nights. He was more inclined to have her on top, but she could still tolerate his weight and loved it.
Afterward, she rested with her head on his shoulder and began drifting to sleep, so content she felt as if she were glowing.
The lamp came on.
It was what Ben called their canary-in-the-mine lamp, the one he’d plugged in when Howler began talking about some of the grids coming back online.
The light went off, flashed on again . . . and stayed on.
“We’ll deal with this tomorrow,” Ben said, then reached out and turned off the lamp.