Cozying up to my wife, I kissed the back of her head before I nuzzled her neck, letting my free hand roam over her hip and then the flat of her stomach. “What’s cooking?” I asked, doing my best to mask my trepidation of eating. Ethan gurgled in my ear, reminding me I was squishing him between us.
“Don’t sound so worried. I got the recipe from Taylor, and she FaceTimed me during the important stuff.”
The important stuff being not burning the house down.
“Uh huh. So most of it, then.” I smiled from behind.
“Evan Rooney!” she chided.
Backing away, I put Ethan on the floor to play and said diplomatically, “I’m kidding.” I moved in close to embrace her.
“You are not.” She gently elbowed me in the stomach, and I grunted, stepping back before parrying forward to rub myself against her in a familiar dance between us.
“Mostly.” I snickered.
She pushed me away, waving her large kitchen spoon while her lips twitched in a half smile.
I teased her in the kitchen, which isn’t fair, but I worked a twelve-hour shift and I missed her. I contemplated setting my alarm earlier so I could wake her up and follow up this teasing with some morning shenanigans.
“I’m making beef and broccoli with some rice.”
I reached around Remi, gently snagging the slotted spoon from her fingers to mix up the beef and broccoli. Admittedly, it smelled good, but my dinner anxiety was high from past experience.
“How long until dinner?” I put the spoon down and twirled her away from the stove. We swayed in the kitchen in a slow dance as she rested her head against my chest.
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Ugh, not enough time.”
“Time for? Oh, you naughty man.” She playfully slapped my chest, and I laughed loudly.
“Dadda. Dadda.” My boy was back, trying to mimic our moves unsuccessfully, but it was adorable.
“Yup, definitely not enough time.” I leaned down and picked up Ethan so he could dance with us. “Hey, buddy.” I kissed his head and Remi squeezed us both in a hug.
“My boys.” Remi sighed, an unusual frown on her face.
“What’s up, sweet girl?”
“After dinner, love.” She placed her finger over my lips, and I play bit it. Even after all this time, my girl was shy in the bedroom and with PDA even in the privacy of our home. I’d push her for an explanation, but since she made dinner and looked eager to serve it, I didn’t want to mess with her plans.
I helped Remi set the table and placed Ethan in his seat, then snapped in his tray. I sat down and waited for Remi to join us, giving Ethan small pieces of beef and broccoli cut up. She was the best mother in the world to me, and I loved watching her with our son. For someone who was young and claimed she didn’t know much, she picked up everything on instinct.
“We’re missing something.” Remi glanced around and returned to the stove. One of the pots was spitting and she huffed unhappily. “Shit,” she grumbled and I stood up quickly to help her. My nose wrinkled over the smell of burnt rice.
“Let me.” I turned the stove down and checked the rice. I’d never seen rice smoke like that before. I’m talking charred goo, which might require I throw the pot out. I didn’t put anything past Remi in the kitchen. She tried so hard, and I appreciated her efforts, but cooking was not her thing.
Her frustration was adorable, and I clamped my mouth shut, knowing better than to say anything.
“Oh hell.” Her face crumbled and I hugged her tightly.
“Hey, look at me.” I tilted her chin up to my face. “One out of two isn’t bad. The beef and broccoli are tasty.” I was surprised to be saying that, but I wasn’t going to downplay her efforts.
“But there’s no starch with dinner.” She sniffled.
“Hey, hey, none of that. No tears at dinner.” I wiped the tears away, but it was no use.
“Evan.” She cried harder.
Fuck. I hated when she was this upset. Usually, I could blame her fuckwit ex, but not this time.
“Come on, let’s eat and I’ll, uh, take care of the pot.” As in putting it deep into the trash can.
“You’re going to throw it out.”
I shook my head, giving her a bullshit excuse. “I’ll scrub it later.”
Oh, I was definitely throwing it out.
“Promise?”
I crossed my fingers behind my back. May God and my pastor father strike me dead.
“Uh huh.” I most certainly would not scrub the shit out of it, but I didn’t tell her that. I had six more of these pots stored in the garage brand new for when this happened. Macy’s even gave me a special coupon because I ordered them in mass quantities. I kept two boxes at my buddy Chase’s house because his girlfriend was equally a disaster in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have my wife crying, but I also wouldn’t get sick from bad rice I couldn’t get out of the metal because it had some thermonuclear reaction.
“Okay.” My girl settled down, and we ate peacefully, feeding Ethan, who liked to take his bites of beef from our hands.
Once we finished, I got up and prepared to clean up and discretely get rid of the pot. “If you put Ethan down, I got this.” I kissed her lips and then Ethan, who looked like he was drooping off to sleep in her arms. She took him to his room, and I knew little man wouldn’t take much to fall asleep once she’d changed him and tucked him in.
I found her in our bedroom, the lights off and the TV playing low. Sometimes we snuggled up and watched a movie together; right now we were streaming a show on Netflix her girlfriends got her into. We agreed to one episode a night, but I had a feeling she snuck the next one. I didn’t check the episode tracker, because I trusted she’d have other plans for me if the episode sucked like tonight.
I changed out of my clothes and pulled back the sheets, wearing my boxer briefs. Remi was in a slinky purple nightgown, the strap slipping off her shoulder taunting me.
“Come here, sweet girl.” I beckoned her closer and she joined me, soft skin against my hard muscles. Her lavender scent calming me. Once I had her in my arms, I clicked off the TV and settled in to figure out what upset her from before.
2
Remi
Evan wrapped his arms around me tightly. He was protective. Sweet. My rock through everything. But he was too perceptive by half to know when something bothered me. I knew the moment the TV was turned off, he’d start the inquisition. His tell was the gentle squeeze and heavy sigh like he was preparing to slay all my dragons. I rubbed my nose against his bare chest, inhaling his woodsy scent and the bite of sweat that lingered on his skin from the work day.
“Sweet girl.” He used my nickname in a half growl, half tease that could go either way if I wanted to distract him.
“Evan.” I didn’t know how to broach this topic with my husband. He’d given me everything, including an unlimited supply of pots and pans as if he didn’t realize I knew him equally as well. I might be kitchen-challenged, but I was not an idiot when I heard the clang of a pot being shoved inside our metal garbage can.
There was no way that stupid rice was coming off the pot, and we both knew it. Asking him to scrub it was a ploy to buy me more time and a few extra snuggles with my baby boy. Too bad Macy’s had a kitchen sale and he restocked. I might not be able to reach the top shelf in the garage without a small ladder, but I knew what those hastily covered boxes were with the scribbles of X-mas decorations that hadn’t moved in all the time I’d lived here. I loved him even more for it.