Page 46 of Two Friends in Marriage
“I just think it’s a nice thing to do,” he says at last.
Hm.Clearly my parents don’t want to say exactly what they’re thinking, and I’m too scared to demand they tell me.
I’m still not in a great mood when I head to the car, leftovers and half a dozen egg tarts in a bag.I’m looking forward to seeing Jane and dreading it at the same time.
When I get home, I put everything in the fridge.Since she’s not downstairs, I text her to say that I’m going for a walk and there are egg tarts if she wants one.
I don’t get a response.
I return from my walk to find my wife standing at the counter, eating a tart.A crumb clings to her bottom lip, and I itch to brush it off with my finger—or lick it with my tongue—but I stuff my hands in my pockets instead.
“How are your parents?”she asks.
“The usual,” I say.“They bugged me more about the honeymoon, but…” I shrug.“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Are they suspicious that we…you know…”
“I’m not sure what they think now.”I sigh.“I’m going to have a shower.”
“Want to watch a show afterward?”
I study her.Is she trying to act like everything is normal between us?Since we usually watch a show after dinner, it would make sense that we do it now.Or is she thinking of our kiss?
I can’t read her.
I said I was going to have a shower—and I will—but I could use an egg tart first.After all, I didn’t have dessert at my parents’ house.I take one out of the fridge, then push it out of the metal tin and set it on a small plate.
Jane promptly picks it up and pretends to take a big bite.
She doesn’t normally do things like this.I step toward her, wanting my egg tart back, but she moves backward until she hits the counter.The tart—my tart—is still held aloft in her left hand.I reach for it, but she moves it over her head.
Ha!She’s shorter than me, but I have to be careful so it doesn’t fall on the floor.
“Why did you do it?’I ask.
She tenses.“Do what?”
“Pretend to eat my egg tart.”
She visibly relaxes at those words but keeps the tart above her head.
I take another step closer.My body is flush with hers now, and she doesn’t look quite so relaxed.She’s breathing heavily, and the look in her eyes—I think it’s excitement?I swear something is buzzing in the air between us.
I reach up and gently pry the tart from her fingers.As I take a big bite with lots of custard, some flakes of pastry fall to the tile floor.I’ll clean those up later, once I’ve finished the tart and Jane is no longer avidly watching my lips.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay, what?”
“We can watch a show.After I shower.”
When I enter the living room, the show is loaded on the screen, and Jane is seated in the middle of the couch.I take my usual seat on the left-hand side, and she presses play.This is the episode that started while we were making out yesterday, but she’s gone back to the beginning of it, since neither of us was paying attention.
I feel the absence of her at my side, but I don’t mention it.If she—
She shifts so she’s next to me and rests her head on my shoulder, and yes, this feels right.I try to focus on the subtitles, though it’s difficult.We haven’t talked about our kiss, but something has changed between us.I feel like we can’t go back, even if we never speak of it—and Jane doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it.
But things have also changed between the characters onscreen, and when, halfway through the episode, they kiss once more, I can’t help looking at Jane.She lifts her head from my shoulder, and her lips are temptingly parted.I try to raise an eyebrow in question, though I think I end up raising both instead.
