on Ruth’s hand. She paused, looking up at him, her brows raised in question.
“What’s up?” she said.
“I love you,” he replied, his voice soft.
Her face split into a smile, and she said without an ounce of self-consciousness, “I love you, too. A lot. I mean, a worrying amount. I’m not quite sure how it happened, actually—”
With a laugh, Evan grabbed her by the waist and dragged her to him. She came with a sigh, batting at his shoulder. But when he bent down to kiss her, right in front of the church, she didn’t complain.
Not at all. Not even a little bit.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
“What are you doing?”
Ruth jumped, dropping a packet of rice on the floor.
It split.
“Oh, fuck,” she sighed.
Evan laughed, padding into the kitchen on bare feet. He held out a hand as she started to bend. “Don’t you dare.”
Ruth didn’t argue. He was probably right. She’d fallen over enough before, without the added burden of an enormously round belly. Now, she was a disaster waiting to happen.
Evan put the rice on the counter, cupping his hand over the place where the bag had split. Then he caught her hand in his and tugged her from the kitchen—but not before casting a speaking glance at the food she’d lined up on the side.
“So,” he said, leading her back into their bedroom. “You decided to get up in the middle of the night and cook dinner?”
“We should sweep up the rice,” she mumbled.
He pushed her gently back into bed, on top of the rumpled blankets. “That can wait ‘til morning. It’s 1 a.m.”
She huffed, because his calm reason was vaguely annoying. Then he lay down and wrapped an arm around her, and Ruth, weak as she was, forgot all irritation and purred like a kitten.
Evan kissed her cheek and murmured, “Are you nervous?”
She snorted. “Why would I possibly be nervous about our first time hosting Sunday dinner? About taking responsibility for the tradition and trying to live up to my mother’s half-a-century of experience when I can’t even cook—”
“You’re not doing the cooking,” he reminded her gently. “I am. Which makes me wonder what, exactly, you were doing in the kitchen.”
“Well,” Ruth said, feeling her cheeks heat. “I thought it might make things easier for you if I laid out all the ingredients and so on.”
Evan laughed. “I see. Thanks for the support, love.” He rubbed slow, soothing circles over her belly, but she knew that wasn’t just for her. He put his hands over her bump whenever he could.
Ruth looked down and watched him stroke the swell of her stomach and felt herself relax. Somehow, he smoothed away her hours of lying awake, feeling ridiculously nervous, worrying that she’d ruin everything by… well, by setting the kitchen on fire despite still being banned from using ovens. Or something along those lines.
The tension drained from her with every circle of Evan’s hand. The glow of their bedside lamp shadowed his features, but she could still see the glint of his golden beard, his sky-bright eyes.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” The Kabbahs and Davises all crammed into she and Evan’s three-bedroom house expecting a perfect meal seemed like an enormous deal to her.
But then Evan said, “We’re family. So even if we fuck it up, everything will be fine.”
She relaxed again, just a bit. “Hm. I suppose that is technically true.”
“Plus, we’re not gonna fuck it up. I’ve been watching your mother cook for years.” He smiled down at her. “And I know you’re not questioning my skills.”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “Would I ever, Great Husband, O Master of the Kitchen?”
“You shouldn’t,” he said haughtily, mimicking her tone. “But you’ve always been impudent.”
“Impudent?” She snorted. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Guess.” He lowered his head and kissed her, his lips gentle and familiar and electric all at once. His hand stopped circling and started rising, sliding up over the curve of her belly until it reached her full breasts.
Ruth moaned as he pushed up her T-shirt to pinch one thick nipple. She reached down to the waistband of the boxers he’d been sleeping in, shoving them down without much grace. When she felt the growing hardness of his cock against her palm, she shuddered.
Evan pulled her underwear aside and slid a finger through her wetness. She was almost always wet, now. Always desperate for him. And she’d thought she had it bad before she got pregnant…