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He grabbed the kettle and a jug of water, filling it while stealing glances at her. God,damnshe was fucking beautiful. “You’re full of flattery,” she said, nervous.
“Oh no ma’am,” he assured, turning on the back burner and putting the kettle on it then getting the coffee pot. “I swear on Betty Bull Dozer.”
She shot out a giggle. “She is this important?”
“Oh she is.”
“Not sure how I feel about you having another woman,” she teased.
He flipped the pieces of sizzling ham with a laugh. “I know how I feel about you being jealous.”
He found a worried look on her face. “How?”
“Iloveit.”
He kept an eye on all the clues she gave off as he got eggs from the fridge. “Why?” she wondered hesitantly.
“Because it means you don’t want to share me. Just like I don’t want to share you,” he said, feeling like he was answering questions that would anger him to hear. He glanced back. “You okay with that?”
She gave a lot of small nods while staring at her fretting fingers on the table, reminding him he needed to carefully dig into her past to see what needed healing.
He grabbed a plate and loaded the cooked ham onto it and lowered his flame for the eggs. “You missed me?” he dared, cracking the first egg into the skillet.
“I did,” she confessed.
He found her nonchalant tone cute. Didn’t want to seem too needy? Didn’t want to be vulnerable? Because the last man used that against her? Or maybe she’d never missed a man before. Given her late husband, that seemed more likely. He’d asked 8-Bit to dig around and find out everything he could on his wife and child and all who were attached. Hopefully he’d learn enough that she didn’t have to voice any of it.
“You hear about those marriage classes?” he remembered, directing to something involving their future.
“I did. The Belle Eveque called meherself,” she praised, like that was unheard of.
God bless Eveque’s angel. “Did she?” he said, excited.
“She sure did. There’s gonna be wife classes but I told her I couldn’t make it,” she said quietly.
“Why not?” he carefully asked, flipping their eggs gently over.
“Well, I…I don’t have a babysitter for Troy Abner. She said he was welcome to come along but I didn’t think that was right. Then she said to speak to you about it and I agreed I would. And…I guess I am now.”
“Do you want to go?” He slid the eggs onto the plate.
“I…I mean yes. I would. If you want me to.”
“No, ifyouwant to.”
“Well, it’s wife classes. Seems like that’s something you would decide I need to take.”
He set the plate of ham on the table then the eggs, tossing slices of bread into the skillet to toast them. “I want you to go only if you want to go.”
“If you think I need—”
“No, I don’t think you need classes to be my wife,” he hurried. “I already think you’re the perfect wife.”
“H-how would you…think that? I mean…you barely seen anything I’ve done. As a wife.”
“I’ve seen all I need to see. Doesn’t matter if you do things perfectly, Claire. Onlyyoumatter. And I thinkyou’reperfect.”
He turned to their toast when questions began burning his tongue. He’d wait. She deserved a happy breakfast cooked by a man that cared about her and her boy. Their boy.
