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“What is this delicious scent I’m smelling, wife?”
“Mongolian beef,” I reply.
He kisses me and looks into the pan. “What’s the occasion?” he asks with a big smile.
“Uh… dinner?”
“Dinner is the occasion?” he asks.
“We need to eat.”
He wraps both arms around me and backs me up against the counter and tugs on my ponytail.
“Thank you for making dinner for us, Chloe. I can’t wait to eat it.”
I feel like I’m beaming. And I feel a little silly for it, but the praise feels nice.
“How about if you set the table?” I suggest.
“You’ve got it, baby. My sister gave me a hard time for not hiring staff. I wanted to leave it up to you. If you want to hire someone to cook and clean, if you want to use my sister’s chef friend for our meals, whatever you want, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love this, you cooking for me, but don’t want you to feel like you have to do it just because you’re a female.”
“I don’t know when I might go back to work, I might like to take another few weeks off,” I say.
“Whatever you want,” he says, and it seems like he means it.
“I can handle some domestic things for now. When I decide, maybe we can have someone come in once a week for the deeper cleaning. But day to day, we’re both pretty tidy and I like to clean. I find it relaxing.”
He smiles. “Your decision. I don’t want live-in staff. Unless you decide differently when the baby comes, and you need help for that… you know. I mean, I’ll help as much as I can of course.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re really fixated on this today, aren’t you?”
He moistens his lips and looks like he’s weighing what he wants to say.
“I do eventually want kids, Derek, but let’s not jump the gun. I’m on the pill and-”
He squints a little.
“I don’t want to burst your bubble here,” I continue, “but let’s table it for at least a year.”
“Why?” he asks.
“We’re very… new.”
“You don’t know if you’re fully in this?” he asks.
I feel uncomfortable. “Derek, a whole lot has happened. How about if we just take one day at a time? If this were a traditional relationship, a year would probably pass before the conversation came up. You know?”
I can’t decipher his expression. He sets the dinner table.
“This is delicious,” he says for the third time.
“Thank you.” I reach to grab the wine bottle and top my glass off. “There’s more. You look like you’re ready for a second helping. Want me to grab it?”
“No, I’ll do it,” Derek says, giving me a strange look. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and does something on it, looking concerned as his eyes scan the screen.
