Page 67 of My Wife
I wince, slouching against the couch cushion. “Maybe I was born this way.”
“Send my regrets to your mother.”
I fight against a smile, for all her sunshine and sparkle, Jessica sure can be feisty.
As if picking up on my amusement, she says, “Do you like when I insult you? And I thought the lizard cult was messed up.”
“What?”
Shaking her head, she says, “Never mind.”
“I like it when you—” But my thoughts bottleneck. Perhaps I do need to work on my communication skills. My role as team captain comes to mind. I need to show up better for them … and my family.
In a somewhat playful tone, Jessica says, “Use your words, Liam.”
“I like it when you challenge me.”
“Ah, so there is something youlikeabout me.”
I recall telling her the opposite. At the time, I wished it were true. I bite the inside of my lip and abruptly get to my feet, my cheeks heating as I plod through alphabet soup. “Yes, yes there are. Is.”
“You mean to say there are things you like about me?”
Jessica brings our dishes to the sink. “The Bundt is outstanding if I do say so myself.”
She doesn’t see me from behind, but I nod in agreement. It turns out, Jessicaeverythingis my favorite.
She dips her finger into the extra frosting left in the bowl and takes a lick.
Once more, I grab her wrist. My grip is gentle, a caress like before, but the repeat contact takes us both by surprise.
“Oh, now you’re Mr. Manners and don’t want me eating with my fingers?”
I let out a shaky breath.
Out of the corner of my eye, she dips her other finger into the bowl, swipes a glob of the frosting, and boops it onto my nose then streaks away.
I could’ve stopped it, but did I want to? Making chase, my face dabbed with frosting, I threaten to nuzzle her again. She dashes past the bowl, grabs it, and wearing a mischievous grin, lifts her finger and then takes another lick.
“Hmm. It’s delicious and would be a shame if I … dumped it on your head.”
“You wouldn’t.” She couldn’t reach, but I play along.
“Hmm. If I got it all over your shirt, you’d have to take it off.”
I recall her and Grandma Dolly’s comments about my abs.
“I’m still wearing the apron.” I run my thumbs along the neck strap.
“Baking is a messy job.”
“And if you dump that out, there will be more to clean up.” Which means she’ll have to stay longer. Something spools inside. There’s no denying it. I like it when Jessica is here and it’s not only because she’s great with the kid and a good cook.
It’s her laugh. Her smile. Her smooth curves. The cinnamon, spice, and everything nice scent. The way she clings to positive thinking but calls it straight.
Most of all, the way she makes me feel. But how do I make her feel? She called me a jerk earlier if that says anything. I’m not worthy of a woman like her.
Wiping my face, I grab the baby monitor and say, “I should walk you to your car.”
