Happily Ever Ninja(102)
I gave him a disbelieving glare.
His mouth tugged to one side. “Well, not just because you’re pregnant. But rather, I shall take the best care of you because it’s no less than you deserve—pregnant or not.”
My eyes were still leaking water, but I let the tears come, I allowed them to fall freely without wiping them away. “I’ll remind you.”
“Good.”
“And you have to remind me not to bottle things up, you have to remind me to ask for what I need.”
“I will. And thank you.”
I sniffled. “For what?”
He kissed the wet streaks on both of my cheeks and smoothed his hand from my shoulder to my bottom. A huge smile split his face as his gaze moved over me with what I knew to be worshipful adoration.
Thank God! Because, at that moment, what I needed and wanted most was worshipful adoration, even if it was only a band-aid until backed up by consistency and actions.
“Thank you for always taking the best care of me, even when I’m undeserving.”
I tsked, and when I spoke my voice was nasally and thick. “Haven’t you realized yet? You do deserve me. We deserve each other.”
CHAPTER 23
Dearest Husband,
I love you for who you are and who you have become. I am thankful that you accept me for what I am and who I have become. I am grateful you joined me in this ride, that you wanted me too.
-M.
Indiana, USA
Married 15 years
~Present Day~
*Fiona*
“I just want him to put the colander back where it belongs. Is that too much to ask?” Janie was crocheting with the fervor of a woman who had just received fifty colanders from her husband. “I don’t want one colander for every closet and cabinet in our apartment, I want one colander. Period. One! And I want him to put it where it belongs.”
“Why can’t men put the dishes away correctly?” Sandra addressed this question to Nico and Greg. “Because Quinn isn’t special in this. As far as I know, inability to correctly unload the dishwasher is something from which all men suffer.”
“Maybe we just like watching our wives bend over while they search cabinets.” Nico grinned.
I lifted my gaze from my knitting and it immediately tangled with Greg’s. We shared a secretive smile. He wagged his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes.
Two weeks had passed since we’d returned home from Nigeria. Two weeks of Greg being home. Two weeks of us clumsily trying on these new roles, new costumes in our relationship. Every so often I’d trip on my proverbial hem, or he’d rip a hypothetical seam, and we’d have to patch things up.
Ten days ago he’d washed the laundry, not separating the whites from the colors, and turned all of our socks pale pink. We’d argued. He’d researched and discovered a solution online. The socks were saved.
Eight days ago he’d caught me, awake in the middle of the night, re-washing the pots and pans he’d done after dinner. We’d argued. He’d worn a pot on his head and pretended to be a robot. I’d laughed. He’d kissed me. I’d instructed him regarding the appropriate method for cleaning the Dutch oven and seasoning cast iron skillets. He was very patient and receptive to my instruction, so we had sex afterward.
Four days ago I stuffed his pillowcase full of the dirty socks he’d left around the house. We’d argued. We’d argued some more. We’d whisper-yelled at each other until 11:30 p.m. The next morning I apologized for my passive-aggressive actions. He apologized for leaving his socks around the house. We made out in our bedroom closet while the kids watched Big Hero 6 in the other room.
Earlier in the day he’d received a call from his contract supervisor at Nautical Oil. He let the call go to voicemail, then returned it later in the day out of my earshot. We hadn’t had a moment to discuss it.
As well, I’d received a call from Quinn. He’d offered me a job. He wanted me to consult on his corporate contracts, to work full-time. Greg wasn’t aware of the job offer yet because we hadn’t had a moment to discuss that either.
I didn’t know what Greg wanted to do about Nautical Oil—whether he was planning on eventually leaving for another assignment or turning them down and looking elsewhere—but one thing was for certain: no matter what he wanted or had planned, I would be vocal about it. I would be vocal about my feelings regardless of whether the feelings were convenient or timely.
Or at least I would try my best.
“Finding things.” Elizabeth poked her husband with her elbow. “Nico does a pretty good job with the dishes, but he can’t find things even when they’re right in front of him. I once sent him to the Asian market to pick up soba noodles. He called me three times from the store, asking if ramen would suffice. Finally, I had to send him a picture and it turns out there were seven different kinds, and he was standing right in front of them.”