cabinets, but maybe it was harmless. Maybe Becky and Dr. Bishop are just friends. Maybe I’m overreacting because I’m feeling insecure, and because I love Becky the way I do, I can't help but go with the conclusion that avoids an argument and allows me to tighten my arms around Becky and breathe her in.
“Well, it’s good to see you,” I hear myself say, letting go of the image I saw when I walked in. “I know I just saw you a few hours ago, but it’s good to come home to you.”
“Aww, well aren't you sweet,” Becky says, just before lifting to her tippy toes to kiss me. “I missed you, too.”
The two of us smile at each other before Becky goes back over to the stove and looks into a large black pot of boiling water releasing steam into the air. I take a second to gather my thoughts and rearrange them back to where they were when I left the hospital and got on the highway. I’m on a mission to please my woman, and I can't let distractions have their way with me. In fact, any uncertainty I feel about Becky texting Dr. Bishop should only make me focus on Becky. If Becky is feeling vulnerable to someone flirting with her because of our sex life, then that’s about to change. It’s on me to turn it around, and that’s what tonight is about. I refuse to lose sight of that.
“So, what’s for dinner, sweetie,” I ask, as I step into the living room and place my bag on the counter.
“Oh, it’s spaghetti. Your favorite.” Becky smiles at me before picking up a box of spaghetti noodles and pouring them into the pot of water.
“Nice,” I say as I plant myself behind my girl and wrap my arms around her while she cooks. “It is my favorite. You're my favorite.”
Becky leans her head over so that her face rubs against mine, and it reminds me of how important tonight is.
We’ll have dinner first, and I’ll shock her with the best dessert I can muster. When it’s over, I’ll know I don't have anything to worry about.
10
~ Sean ~
Two white plates rest on top of the oval glass table in the center of our dining room. Red sauce is smeared across the plates, with leftover strands of noodles that have been left behind to fend for themselves after Becky and I devoured our meals. Two glasses of red wine sit on top of the table as well, one empty, the other half full for another minute or two, before I knock the rest of it back.
The meal was fantastic, as is every meal Becky cooks for us, and looking at her sitting across from me, I feel like the stage is set for the show I've been planning to put on. Our bellies are full, it’s been a few days since we last had sex, and there's nothing in our way now.
“Well, I’m stuffed,” Becky says as she sits back in her chair and lets her hair down. Her brown locks fall behind her back and she uses her fingers as a comb to straighten them out. She looks amazing, reminding me of how lucky I am to have her.
Some would say Becky is out of my league. I know her level of sex appeal is far beyond mine, and there's tons of guys who walk past us and stare at her as if I’m not even standing there. But, no matter what anybody may think about her being on my arm, Becky chose me. She could've chosen Dr. Bishop a long time ago, or any other guy walking the halls of Bayhealth. She didn't choose them, though. She chose me, and it'd be a crime if I took that for granted just because we’ve been together a while now. I know that’s common in relationships, but I can't let us fall victim to complacency.
“That was amazing, babe,” I compliment, making sure to look Becky in her beautiful brown eyes.
She smiles, still playing with her hair. “Thank you. I needed that after today. My feet still hurt from those heels. I shouldn't have worn them. They're too high.”
I scoot my chair closer to Becky’s and lift one of her feet into my lap. She’s barefoot now, and I take the opportunity to massage her feet. As my fingers rub the outside of her foot and then between her toes, Becky’s head falls to the side as her