Page 57 of Two Friends in Marriage
She chuckles.“I was trying to…the way you said…”
My brain isn’t working well right now, but I kiss her cheek reassuringly.I’m not unaccustomed to a partner wanting to make me feel good, yet something about her earnestness and shyness and vulnerability makes my chest squeeze.Makes this feel a little different.We lie there in post-orgasmic bliss for a while.
“Just so know,” I say, “I have no intention of sleeping with anyone else, now that we’ve…” I gesture between us.“And yes, I’m sure.”I’m unable to explain exactly what I feel, but I know that much is true.I only want her.
She responds with a kiss and jumps in the shower.I strip the bed before making coffee.
When she comes downstairs and sees Watson wearing my apron, she laughs, but when she looks at me over her mug and smiles, I know she’s thinking of what we did earlier.
Jane’s laundry is redone and folded by early afternoon, and I hope I’ve made it clear that it’s a mistake I’ll never make again.Though I do errantly think that if she couldn’t wear clothes, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
I do more chores after lunch, then we watch TV before getting ready for our night out.
“Do you want me to do your makeup again?”she asks as we reach the top of the stairs, about to head to our separate bedrooms.
“If you’d like to,” I say.
She nods.“It’s kinda fun to do stuff I’m not interested in wearing myself.”
I put on a silk shirt and knock on her door.It feels like the right thing to do even if I saw her naked this morning.
“Come in,” she says.
Jane is wearing dark jeans, paired with a cream-colored sleeveless shirt, a contrast to the black clothes she usually favors for going out.When she beckons me in and turns around, I see that the shirt is mostly backless, aside from a big bow just above her ass.
God, she’s gorgeous.
“Is it too much?”she asks, worrying her red lip.
“Definitely not.It looks great.”I mime undoing the bow, which earns me a fond eye roll.
She follows me to the en suite.“Tell me what you want.”
I gesture to the makeup and show her a few pictures on my phone.She immediately gets to work.She starts with the pink and blue eyeshadow before moving to the eyeliner.I focus on her slightly parted lips and intent gaze as she glams me up.
“Do you like it?”she asks.“I think it’s pretty.”
I’m not sure how she knewthatwas the word I wanted to hear today, but it is.
“I love it,” I tell her, just like I did last time.
But this time, I press a kiss to her cheek afterward.
It takes a long time to get to downtown Toronto, and when we finally arrive at the queer-owned Italian restaurant on Queen West, we’re almost ten minutes late.We’re immediately shown to our table on the small back patio, which I requested when I made the reservation.
“Evan!”says Lyla, our server, as she pours our water.“You haven’t been here in ages.”
“I got married and moved to Richmond Hill.”
It’s nice to be back downtown—I’ve missed it.But I don’t feel the need to come here all the time.I like our house with its backyard.
“Congratulations,” she says.“You look great.”
“Thanks.This is my wife, Jane.”
Lyla tells us about the daily specials, but since I don’t eat here often anymore, I decide to go with my usual: linguine with clams.Jane selects the calamari, at my recommendation, as well as a glass of wine, and we choose the carpaccio to start.There have been some small changes to the menu in the past year, but all the things I like best are still available.
Yet as we wait for our food, I think of the fact that I’ve been on dates here before.It feels wrong that this isn’t a special place just for me and Jane.
