Page 31 of Dirty Husband
I wasn't planning on it, but she's right—"It's the fastest way."
"Will the hospital really…" She looks at me, trying to figure out if I'm serious or not. "You're kidding?"
I'm not sure. It's been a long time since I've joked with anyone. I try out a shrug.
She raises a brow, not really buying it. "The subway will be crowded in an hour."
This time, I arch a brow.
"What? Too rich for the subway?"
"If I am?"
"It takes longer to sit in traffic."
"Yes, but in the back of a limo, there's plenty to do." I let my voice drop.
She pretends she doesn't understand my implication, but she still blushes. "I'll consider that."
"Or the helicopter."
"Or the helicopter." Her eyes go to the pot.
"I'll make more."
"No… I will."
That's a good idea. She'll be more comfortable fixing tea. And she—
Fuck, I don't know how I convinced her to love me the first time. That was a million years ago, before all this baggage between us.
How am I supposed to do it now that she hates me?
I stand. Offer my hand. When she takes it, I lead her into the kitchen.
Her eyes go wide as she takes in the expansive room.
It's enormous by New York standards, with a style rare in this part of town. Most new buildings have modern, utilitarian kitchens, all stainless steel and high-pressure appliances.
This kitchen is something Mom would have loved. Black and white tile, wide windows, pots and pans hanging over the ceramic sink.
Jasmine moves straight to the electric kettle. She fills it with water and sets the temperature to one hundred ninety degrees. Then she looks around the counter. Looks for something. "Don't tell me you threw out the leaves."
"They're finished."
She shakes her head. "They're better on the second steeping." Her gaze shifts to the cabinets. "Sometimes a third or fourth. With some green teas, a fifth or even a sixth. If you're using a pot this small. That's the Chinese way of brewing tea. Less water, more steepings."
I nod as if I appreciate the nuance.
"The leaves unfurl as they steep. They have different flavors every time."
I point to the one on the right.
She rises to her tiptoes to open it. Reaches for a tin of tea. Doesn't quite find it.
"Here." I place my body behind hers. For a moment, I feel her against me, feel all her warmth and softness. Then she shifts out of the way so I can grab the tin.
My hand brushes hers as I offer it to her.
