Page 76 of Nave
“Was it awful?”
“Nah. It’s a rite of passage. Makes you very aware of how we are each cogs in the wheel here.”
“And I guess it makes you very aware of the kinds of messes you’re making.”
“Exactly,” he agreed as we made our way into his room, kicking off our shoes as Edith—exhausted from socializing—made a beeline for her bed.
I pulled off my pants and bra before getting into the bed. Nave slipped out of everything but his underwear and joined me under the covers.
He slid an arm under me and curled me up and onto his chest, where I rested, listening to the sound of his heartbeat for a long moment as his fingers drifted through my hair.
“This is nice.”
“We should nap every day,” he agreed.
“We’re not really napping.”
“I’m not really tired. I just want to be here with you.” Despite myself, a yawn escaped me. “You should sleep, though. You’re growing a whole human in there.”
“Well, that’s a really weird visual.”
“Yeah, I take that back,” he agreed. “Take your nap. Then I’m gonna whip you up something nice for dinner.”
With the promise of a home-cooked meal, and the comforting sensation of his arms around me, I drifted off quickly and slept deeply.
When I woke up, I was still in Nave’s arms, but Edith had somehow joined us and was curled up just a few inches from my face.
“She didn’t want to miss out on a snuggle session,” Nave said. “How was your nap?”
“What day is it?” I asked, dragging a chuckle out of him.
“That good, huh? You knocked out for two hours.”
“And you just stayed here?”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I shifted off of him, rolling onto my back, and doing a long stretch. Nave didn’t miss the opportunity to let his gaze move down over my bare legs.
But as soon as Edith leapt off of him, he folded up.
“So. Dinner. What are you in the mood for?”
“Pasta,” I said immediately. “I think it’s safe to assume that from now until I state otherwise, I always want pasta.”
“What kind of pasta?”
“You mean shape?”
“Well, yes, that is an important question.”
“I don’t like rotini or farfalle. But I like everything else from thick linguine to whisper-thin angel hair.”
“I have to add pinwheels to the list of no-go pastas. And I could do without a shell.”
“Unless they’re stuffed,” I clarified.
“Which brings me to the rest of my question. Do you just want pasta? Or do you want something layered like baked ziti or lasagna? Or stuffed like tortellini or ravioli?”
