Page 72 of The Caress

There’s music playing softly from the speakers in the living room, just loud enough to hear it in the background without being too intrusive.

Check and check.

The kids are off at one of their friends’ houses for the weekend, so there is no need for us to worry about keeping our voices down or taming whatever wild, crazy urges we might have after dinner.

Big check.

I’m not sure if it’s comical or sad that this is the first time in my adult life I’ve prepared a gourmet meal for two, with candles and music and all the little details that I wouldn’t normally even notice or think of.

Is this really a thing that people do for their anniversaries?

I hope so, because it’s too late to change anything now. If I can pull this off, though, it’s going to be really special.

I check my watch and silently curse myself for not paying more attention when Kaia sent that text. How long has it been? Do I have five minutes left before she gets here? Four?

Dammit.

Just breathe.

Relax.

She’s going to love everything.

Even if she doesn’t, it’ll still be perfect because we’ll be together.

My pep talk could use some work, but there’s no time to psych myself up any more than I already am.

Jesus, I need to get myself together. I don’t think I was this nervous on our wedding day. But it feels like the stakes are so much higher now. She’s six months pregnant and has had to start cutting back on some of the things she enjoys most in life, like dancing and teaching, and bending at the waist.

I just want her to be able to sit back, smile, and have a nice time without being uncomfortable or worrying about anything else for a few short hours.

Another text makes me jump, and I’m glad nobody else is around to hear the embarrassingly high-pitched noise that just escaped from the back of my throat.

I just dropped her off at the door. She’s on her way up.

Oh shit. She’s at least three minutes early.

That’s fine, though. Totally fine. Everything is ready. Nothing is going to go wrong. I’m definitely not going to fuck anything up.

Please, God, don’t let me fuck anything up.

The closest thing to a prayer I have time for right now, because I can hear the elevator door opening in the foyer and the click, clack, click of her shoes on the marble floor.

"Keir?" she calls out. "I’m home, baby."

I step into the living room to meet her with a hug and a kiss, loving the way her round belly presses against me when I hold her close.

That’s our child growing inside her. The baby we made together. It might not be the first time I’ve experienced this particular miracle of life, but it’s the first time I’m getting to experience it with Ella, and that makes all the difference in the world.

"You look beautiful," I say, meaning it as I pull away just far enough to look into her eyes. Her hair is pulled up, leaving her graceful neck exposed. The short, beaded black dress she’s wearing is shimmering in the soft candlelight and hugging every curve of her lush, gorgeous body. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

A slow, sexy smile spreads across her pretty face. "Happy anniversary to you, too. What are we going to do tonight? It’s so rare that we have the apartment all to ourselves."

"Oh, I can think of a few things we could do," I say, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, as if I haven’t spent the last few hours having a full-blown meltdown. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving. I kept trying to get Kaia to stop for something to eat, but she was like a drill sergeant, running me from place to place." She stops following me through the apartment and looks around, her eyes growing wide. "Did you do all of this yourself? The candles? The music? And whatever that delicious smell is?"

"That’ll either be the garlic bread or the chicken piccata." I wince. "Unless it’s a burnt smell, and that would be the first batch of chicken picatta. I might need to buy a new pan, but we don’t have to talk about that right now. But yes, everything was prepared by me. With love, of course."

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